Page 46 of Straightened Out

“Rocco?” I call.

“It’s for you,” he says finally, lifting his eyes back to me. Shrugging a shoulder, he continues, “It’s nothing big, just a little something for your birthday.”

“You bought me a birthday present?” I ask, my voice a whisper.

Again, he just looks at me and I feel my throat tighten slightly. I hadn’t so much as received a card. Not from my mother and certainly not from my grieving brother and here he was, albeit two days later, handing me a birthday gift. Something he picked out especially for me. I try not to get too excited…too hopeful. I remind myself, this is Rocco and everything he does, he takes back.

“Since when do we exchange gifts?” I rasp.

“We don’t,” he replies, sliding off the stool. He smooths a hand down over his chest and winks at me. “Consider this the exception. But do me a favor, open it when your mother isn’t around. I don’t trust her not to flush it down the toilet and before she asks, I didn’t rob it.”

Swallowing, I take the box in my hand and raise an eyebrow. Trying to mask my emotions, I tease, “How do you know I won’t flush it?”

He laughs and raises a hand, uncomfortably tugging at the tie around his neck.

“Call it a hunch,” he replies. Before I can say another word, he turns around and begins to saunter toward the door. He pauses, turning around and glances at the kitchen.

“Flora, always a pleasure.”

Then he turns back around and exits the restaurant. My gaze follows him as he crosses the parking lot and it stays with him until he disappears into the back seat of the sedan. I glance down at the box and slip it into the front pocket of my apron. As curious as I am, I know better than to open it with my mother lurking around.

Later, after the lunch rush is over, I excuse myself to the bathroom to open the gift and my eyes nearly fall out of their sockets. There, encased in the velvet box, is a diamond tennis bracelet. A gasp flies out of my mouth and I start to count the diamonds but after twenty, I give up. No one has ever given me diamonds before. Now I understand why they’re a girl’s best friend.

They’re stunning.

As tempted as I am to see what the bracelet looks like on my wrist, I decide to snap the box closed.

How does a man call you a mistake and forty-eight hours later gift you diamonds?

Shoving it back inside my apron, I grab my phone and pull up Rocco’s contact information. It starts to ring, and I draw my lower lip between my teeth, trying to decide how I’m going to play this. If I accept the bracelet, I’m condoning his behavior. I’m giving him a green light to play with my heart.

“Bug,” he answers.

“Hey,” I murmur, swallowing past the lump in my throat. “Is that how I’m stored in your phone?”

He chuckles.

“No.”

“I opened your gift,” I say, leaning my back against the vanity. Drawing out a heavy sigh, I continue, “Rocco, it’s beautiful, but I can’t accept it.”

“The fuck you can’t.”

A sad smile forms on my lips. I should’ve expected that kind of response from him.

“Rocco,” I start, pausing to gather my thoughts. “It’s too much.”

“Do you like it?”

“I love it,” I admit.

“Then, it’s not too much, Violet.”

It feels like it is.

It feels like I’m setting myself up for disaster.

“Answer your phone later tonight,” he says gruffly.

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