Page 22 of Wish You Would

“You serious?” I narrowed my eyes, looking for signs that Dante was fucking with me. Because if he was fucking with me…

“Yes ma’am. Can barely believe it myself.” He shook his head, a laugh barreling out of him. “When they asked me to train them back here, I thought for sure they’d lost their damn mind. A kid who couldn’t even mop without causing a flood of biblical proportions, in my kitchen? Around open flames and shit?” He laughed again, boisterous and warm. “But, damn. Kid’s got it.”

“Oh, good.” My shoulders sagged. “I didn’t want to fire them. But I didn’t want my brother to question my judgment, either.”

“Well, whatever you saw in the kid when you hired them, you were right.” Dante’s eyes warmed on my face. “You should trust your gut more often.”

I huffed out a silent, rueful laugh. “I don’t know about that. My gut has led me on some fucked up journeys.”

Especially lately.

My mind took me back a couple days. Sitting across from Parker while she talked about baseball butts and bologna. Watching her light up, then claiming there was nothing interesting about her. Asking me for Halle-specific pointers. All while wearing my shirt.

My shirt.

Fuck, that had hit hard. So hard that not even a date with Luke’s most recent overnight guest had softened the blow. Everything was a tangled web of gay angst, and I wanted out.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Dante tossed a wink my way. “I’ve seen that god awful sandwich you make when you’re hungover. Can’t say I’d trust my gut either if I ate that thing.”

“Hey, now. Lay off my peanut butter and mayonnaise grilled cheese.” I pushed away from the prep table and brushed my hands over my jeans. “This is why we keep you in the back, away from all the people.”

It was a joke, but Dante’s face fell the barest bit—hardly noticeable on any other human, but for someone who was always jovial…I noticed.

“Wait,” I said, putting a hand on his arm. “I was kidding.”

He nodded, a bright smile morphing his face. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed me. “Oh, I know,” he said, but something still simmered beneath the surface.

I stepped in front of him, moving into his line of vision to meet his eye. “What’s up, man?”

He looked like he was gonna brush me off for a moment, tell me everything was fine. But then his shoulders dropped and he sighed. “All right.” Looking around the kitchen, he stepped closer. “You’re the first person I’m telling, and you gotta keep it to yourself.”

My skin prickled. Leaning closer, I studied his face. Stoic AF. Uncharacteristically so. Panic seized my chest in a tight fist. “Is everything okay?”

For a long, tense moment, thoughts raced through my brain. Dante was dying. Steph was dying. Was…was I dying?

Why did every thought revolve around death?

Maybe I needed therapy.

What if—

“Steph is pregnant.”

The floor literally jolted beneath me. I grabbed Dante’s arm, a squeal leaving me that, if asked later, I would deny. “Dante!” I jostled his arm. “That’s amazing!”

Dante and Steph had been together for longer than I knew the guy, and had just gotten engaged a few months ago. They were the cutest couple this side of Lake Michigan. Probably the other side, too. They made me sick

And I loved them.

He grinned a grin so wide I thought his face was gonna split in two. “I know,” he said, eyes twinkling. “It’s still early, so we’re keeping it quiet. But…” His grin waned just a bit. “I have something to ask you.”

“Okay. Anything. I mean it. Anything. You want me to pick up extra shifts so you can go to all the doctors’ appointments, I gotchu. Rub Steph’s feet when she blows up like a blimp? No problem. Take care of—”

“Whoa, whoa,” Dante cut in, laughing. “Nothing like that.”

“All right. Then, what?”

“So, I was thinking, since Kai is catching on in the kitchen, and Artie is looking to pick up more shifts, now might be a good time for me to, I dunno, take on more around here.”

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