Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
The sunlight was already sneaking around the edges of the curtains when April blinked awake.
Her body was sore in the best way, stretched and satisfied, every muscle still humming from the night before.
Shane's arm was heavy across her waist, his chest warm against her back.
She smiled and tried to shift without waking him.
No such luck.
He grumbled something low and possessive and tightened his hold. "Nope. Not ready to give you up to the world yet."
She laughed softly so she wouldn't wake Kevin in the next room. "Too bad. I've got to drop a kid off at camp and get to work."
"Mmm. Can't someone else make the coffee today?"
"Nope."
He nuzzled the back of her neck, clearly trying to change her mind with kisses. "Can't Pete take Kevin?"
"You want our dog to drive the truck?"
"Only if he promises to stop for donuts."
She wriggled around to face him, biting her lip to keep from laughing. His hair was a mess, his eyes still half-closed, and he looked so stupidly handsome she wanted to crawl right back under the covers.
Instead, she kissed him. Slow. Sweet. A little filthy. Which became a lot filthier as she made her way down his body to his cock. He was already half-hard and quickly stiffening.
He groaned. "That's not helping me let you go, April."
"Shh. You'll wake the kid." April slipped his cock into her mouth and ran her tongue around and around the tip until he was gripping the sheets. It only took a moment for him to come after she plunged his entire length into her mouth.
"You're...amazing."
"I know." She pushed the blankets off and sat up, reaching for the t-shirt he'd peeled off her the night before. He grabbed her hand and refused to let go. "Uh-uh. If you want more of that tonight, you'd better let me get on with my day."
He smacked her ass as she stood. "Then go, Sweetness. But you'd better keep that promise tonight."
She grinned over her shoulder. "I always do."
April walked into Riversong mid-morning still wearing a smile she couldn't quite wipe off, no matter how hard she tried.
Not that she was trying too hard. Why not let the world know how happy she was?
She'd dropped Kevin at day camp half an hour ago, kissed the top of his head as he scrambled out with his backpack half-zipped. He hadn't even looked back, too busy chasing his new camp friends across the park.
Now, as she stepped into Riversong, the familiar scent of espresso and cinnamon met her like an old friend.
She excused herself as she squeezed past a knot of customers—so many customers this morning!
Riversong had been shared from here to Timbuktu all over social media since the day they announced the party a couple weeks ago—and made her way to the counter.
"Look who's glowing," Hannah said, one eyebrow lifted, her hair piled high on her head like a crown. "Someone had a very good night."
April rolled her eyes but couldn't fight the grin anymore. "Do you always clock the exact moment I've been thoroughly debauched?"
"I don't even need a clock. You're basically levitating."
April laughed and ducked behind the counter. She noticed Rochelle wasn’t in yet today. A different woman sat in her usual window seat.
“Rochelle may have to fight for her spot today,” she told Hannah.
“I was just thinking that. Crazy-busy. We should have had an after-hours party a long time ago.”
“We’ll make it a monthly thing,” Sonny said as he set a custom-made Watermelon Sweet Tea on the pickup counter and shouted to one of their regulars, “Order up for lovely Lana!”
April grinned at Sonny’s good mood.
The line was long—just out the door now—but no one seemed to mind.
Sonny was working the espresso machine, moving like a man half his age as he poured shots and frothed milk with practiced ease.
The espresso machine hissed and steamed, filling the space with that warm, rich scent that made so many people’s mornings bearable.
April stood behind the register, greeting customers both old and new with easy smiles and quick jokes.
The place buzzed with that Riversong kind of magic—Sonny’s favorite old jazz station playing overhead, laughter, clapping from someone who'd just won a game of checkers in the corner, the owner of Do’s and Donuts dropping off a dozen mixed flavors for the pastry cooler.
She barely had time to take it in. The line kept moving.
Regulars, tourists, a few college kids home for the summer.
She passed change, scribbled names on cups, made small talk about the weather, thanked people for tips.
The next customer stepped up.
"Morning!" April said brightly, already reaching for a cup. She didn't recognize him at first—it had been almost ten years, and the time he spent in prison had not been kind. "What can I—"
Her voice cut out. Her fingers froze around the cup.
Because standing in front of her, calm as you please, was Vince Romano.
He'd aged. Badly. He was ten years older than April but looked her age when they met.
Now he looked like he had twenty years on her.
The smooth confidence he'd worn like expensive cologne was still there, but his face had gained forehead wrinkles, and crow’s feet behind his dark glasses.
Lines bracketed his mouth that hadn't been there before. His biggest pride—his hair—was still thick and dark, but heavily threaded with gray at the temples. His sense of style hadn’t changed.
He wore a meticulously pressed and fitted jacket over a smooth silk shirt, and of course his Rolex Deepsea watch, which he liked to falsely brag he won off of James Cameron in a private poker game.
Oh yes, April remembered that watch well, but not for the Cameron connection. It had left quite a bruise on her face when Vince backhanded her.
Run. Grab Kevin and run.
"Hey, looks like I found my jackpot," Vince said, and his voice was exactly as she remembered. Smooth as good whiskey going down. "Long time, baby. You’re looking good."
April couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. The cup in her hand felt like it weighed a thousand pounds.
"April?" Hannah's voice came from somewhere far away. "You okay?"
Vince's smile widened. He pulled off his sunglasses with deliberate slowness and tucked them into his jacket pocket. His eyes, now those were the same. Dark and assessing and not quite as warm as his smile. "Surprised to see me?"
April found her voice. It came out cold and flat. "What are you doing here?"
"Getting coffee." He gestured at the menu board behind her. "This is a coffee shop, right?"
"You need to leave."
His expression shifted—just a flicker, like a mask slipping for half a second before sliding back into place. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, baby. I just want to talk, April. That's all."
She was aware of the line behind him. Of customers watching. Of Hannah frozen beside her, eyes wide. Of Sonny looking up from the espresso machine, his expression sharpening.
"There's nothing to talk about except for you leaving," April said quietly.
“April, baby, please.” Vince’s expression went soft and sad. “It took me so long to find you. I’m not mad, okay? I just want to talk. Can’t we talk?” He looked around, caught the eye of the customer standing behind him and shrugged while laughing lightly, as if he’d only asked April the time.
“You heard my sister,” Hannah said, her voice colder than April had ever heard it. “Get the hell out of our shop.”
April felt her father suddenly at her side. His face was set in that expression April knew too well—the one that meant someone was about to get thrown out bodily if they didn’t leave immediately.
"You must be Vince," Sonny said, his voice carrying authority. "You need to leave. Now."
Vince glanced at him, unimpressed. "And you are?"
"The owner. And I'm telling you to get out of my shop."
April put her hand on her father's arm. "Sonny, I'll take care of it."
Vince’s eyes went wide. “Oh, you’re Sonny Taylor. My apologies.” He extended his hand. “I should have realized you’re my fiancée’s father. Good ta meet ya, sir.” Sonny just stared at his hand.
April nearly died right there. Then her fury rose, blotting out everything except Vincent Romano.
“Your fiancée? How dare you call me that? It’s been almost ten years, Vince. Are you delusional?”
Vince covered his heart. “Love has no expiration date, April.”
April actually laughed. “Okay, yeah, okay. You are delulu.” She wiped a tear of mirth from her eye. "Yeah, Vince, we can talk.” She looked at the customer over his shoulder. “Sorry, sir, Hannah will be right with you.” She pulled the tie on her apron and grabbed the neck strap.
“April, no,” Hannah said, still glaring at Vince.
Sonny looked at her, then at Vince, then back at her. "You sure?"
"I'm sure. This won’t take long." She set the apron on a low shelf under the counter and started to go past her father.
He didn't move immediately. Just stood there, a wall of protective father energy, before finally stepping back. But he watched ever move his daughter made.
April walked out from behind the counter. “Come on,” she told Vince.
"Lead the way, baby. I’ll take you out to the finest restaurant they got in this little pisshole town."
God, that was equal parts hilarious and fury-inducing. He’d just put her in the position of defending the hometown that hated her.
“Yeah, well, I grew up in this little pisshole and I love it.” She was struck by the fact that it was true—somewhere along the way, she’d come to love her hometown.
Now’s not the time for shocking revelations, April. One conversation with this clown—who seems more pathetic than scary now that we’re face-to-face—and send him on his way.
“Sorry, baby.”