Page 60 of My Best Friend's Dad

I tiptoed down a few steps, careful not to make any noise. He must be on the phone, and I didn’t want to disturb him.

“Make sure the perimeter is secure,” he continued. “If anything happens, you contact me immediately. Understood?”

There was a pause, presumably while the person on the other end responded. I couldn’t hear what they were saying to each other, but Vincenzo’s next words were clear.

“Good. I appreciate it, Tony. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Just make sure she’s safe.”

I felt a surge of warmth at his concern for me, but also a pang of guilt for eavesdropping. I took a deep breath and continued down the stairs, trying to appear casual.

As I entered the kitchen, Vincenzo looked up from his phone, his expression softening when he saw me.

“Hey there,” he said, ending the call and slipping the phone into his pocket. “You look good in my shirt.”

I blushed, feeling a mix of embarrassment and pleasure. “Thanks. I hope you don’t mind me borrowing it.”

“Not at all,” he replied with a smile. “It looks better on you anyway.”

I walked over to the island where he was preparing breakfast. The smell of caramelized bananas and cinnamon filled the air, making my mouth water.

“Who were you talking to?” I asked, trying to sound nonchalant, but I couldn’t help myself.

Who did he want to watch over me? To be honest, it kind of annoyed me because I didn’t really think I needed anyone to watch me.

I could take care of myself. I’d done it all my life. My mom and dad were never around, too caught up in their careers to give a damn whether I ate or drank or slept. All they cared about was that I didn’t end up dead, or at least I hoped they did.

“Just one of my guys. You’ll meet him soon,” he said, not missing a beat as he flipped a slice of French toast in the pan. “I have to take care of a few things today, and I want to make sure you’re safe while I’m gone.”

I nodded, feeling a mix of gratitude and annoyance at his presumption that I couldn’t take care of myself.

“Is everything okay?” I pressed.

He glanced at me, his eyes serious. “I’m handling it. Don’t worry.”

“Okay.” I shrugged with a smile.

I wished he would tell me more, but when he didn’t say anything else, I decided to drop it. If he didn’t tell me now, he would soon, or else I’d go looking for answers myself, and I was pretty good at that.

He slid the French toast onto a plate and handed it to me. I smiled, inhaling the rich scent.

“Here, try it,” he offered.

I sat down at the kitchen island, slathered it in syrup, cut a piece off and took a bite.

“Wow. Ten out of ten, for sure,” I said through a moan.

“Good,” he said, smiling. “I’m glad you like it.”

As I ate, he leaned back against the counter, watching me with an easy smile. The silence was comfortable, the two of us enjoying each other’s company for a little while before he made himself a plate and joined me.

For a little while, I let myself pretend that we were a normal happy couple.

Except you’re not.

I ignored my inner voice, the part of me that knew we shouldn’t be together and eventually the world might drive us apart.

But that was a problem for another day.

Not today.

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