Page 22 of Leaving Lando

“In high school, I was in a band. So, you know, fame, fortune, platinum-selling records, all of that. But I always figured I’d travel. Get one of those vans and bum around the country, and see as much of the rest of the world as I could.”

Her tone is light, but she’s playing with her food, not meeting my eyes. Just as well, because for an instant I’m blindsided.

It makes sense, as independent as she is, that she’d want to travel. I’ve done a bit of that myself, and it’s a good experience. But Bree didn’t say anything about coming back.

I have no claim on her, and it wouldn’t be right to try to stop her — not that anyone could — if her heart’s set on going. All the same, it leaves me with a hollow feeling in my chest.

I’ve done my roaming, gotten it out of my system, and now I’m home. Not that I never want to travel again, but I know this is where I belong.

The thought of Bree leaving, being gone for months, years, maybe forever, is like a kick in the gut. In the few short months since Romero and Jade met, she’s become part of the fabric of my life. And after tonight, I want to see more of her, not less.

Trying to mask my feelings, I match her carefree tone. “So you’ll be one of those van life people, posting your journeys on Instagram?”

She shrugs, still not looking at me. “It was just a dream. We’ve got the bakery now.”

“Bree.” I wait until she meets my gaze. “If it’s important to you, you should do it.”

Her chin trembles; her eyes grow suspiciously bright. “Hey.” I tug her from her seat, stand to meet her, and fold her in my arms. “It’s okay.”

“I’m being stupid,” she says in a choked voice.

“No, you’re not.”

“I always thought I’d ask Quinn to come with me. These last few months, staying with different nonnas, it’s the first time we haven’t lived under the same roof. But we can’t both go and leave Jade with the bakery. She’s got Romero; she’s planning their wedding.”

I cup her face in my hands. “First of all, there’s no law that says just because the three of you have the bakery, you’re tied to it forever. You started it, you can stop it.”

“But—”

“No buts. It exists for you, not the other way around.”

“Easier said than done,” she mutters.

“Yeah, but the point is, you can cross that bridge when you come to it. You’re not locked in with no options.”

“We have a lease. I think we’re pretty locked in.”

“I’m pretty sure your landlord would understand if something needed to change.” Since their landlord happens to be my cousin Antonio, I feel comfortable saying this. Tonio’s a self-made billionaire, and also a good guy. He’d work with them.

Bree gives me a wry smile. “I keep forgetting the rules are different in Adamoland.”

I snort. “Adamoland?”

“Your family runs this town. Hell, you run most of the damn state. What would you call it?”

There’s no resentment in her voice, but it gives me pause. “I never really think about it, to be honest. When I look at my family, I see them as individuals, people I know and love and fight with. But you’re right. Collectively, we do have a lot of influence in some arenas.”

“I’m not complaining. Just saying, most landlords wouldn’t be so understanding.”

I give her my best Marlon Brando imitation. “One day, he’s going to ask you for a favor …”

“Shut up.” Laughing, she shoves at my chest, the sadness banished for now. I count it a win.

“Let’s get the kitchen cleaned up, and we can move on to the next phase of this evening’s entertainment.”

“Do I get to make dessert?”

“No, you get to be dessert.”

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