Page 17 of Sugar, Sprinkles, and Secrets
“That we will,” she agrees as she hands someone else their change.
I almost forgot what I came over here to ask, but Cara’s very distracting in her own right. “Betty mentioned Dante had a doctor’s appointment yesterday, is everything alright?”
“Oh, yeah, it was just an annual checkup, nothing to worry about. What can I get you?” Cara asks, clearly not willing to give me more of an explanation. We have a great hospital and doctors here in Forrest Falls, unless it was for some kind of specialty visit, she shouldn’t have needed to go all the way into the city for a routine appointment. It’s not the first time I’ve felt like she’s keeping things from me. I know that she’s incredibly private with anything related to her niece and nephew, but I thought we were past that.
“I’ll take the rest of your madeleine cookies and your chocolate chip cookies. Oh, and if you have any coffee or beverages you’re selling, I’ll take those too.”
Cara stills and tilts her head. “And why would you need all of that?”
“Because once you’re sold out of everything, then you can grab Mila and Dante and come join us in front of Lux to enjoy the parade. Come on, Cara, I’m wiping you out—pack it up, you’re done.”
A bark of laughter escapes her as she looks at me wide-eyed. “You’re crazy.”
“For a few things, yes. To be fair, I do really love your chocolate chip cookies.”
“Okay, uh, if you’re sure. Hey, Betty? Max here is going to take … two dozen madeleine cookies, one dozen chocolate chip cookies, and the remaining two carafes of hot cocoa,” Cara calls out with a wide grin on her face.
“Oh, is he now? Thank you, young man, that means we get to watch the parade up close this year!” Betty laughs as she tells me my total. I tap my phone to pay and add a ridiculous tip, which Cara will yell at me for later. I help her pack up everything, including sliding the stand back into her store and locking up. Managing the boxes of goodies, I escort her, Dante, and Mila over to join the festive fun in front of Lux, passing out the baked goods and refilling people’s mugs with hot cocoa.
As I watch Dante and Mila run after candy being tossed from floats with Jack’s nieces, I take the risk and put my arm around Cara, who in response, leans into me. I kiss the top of her head, and I feel the tension leave her shoulders as I pull her a little tighter into my side. This isn’t hidden in my pantry—this is out in the open on Main Street.
It’s also where she belongs.
“Max, I…” Cara looks up at me, but I don’t want to think too much about things, not tonight. She huffs in frustration.
“Cara, for tonight, just be here with me, okay? We can talk about things later or even tomorrow, but right now, let’s just enjoy tonight together, alright?” She nods and even leans her head onto my chest.
I’ve always thought Merry and Bright Night somehow held a piece of holiday magic, but tonight? I’m convinced it does.
Chapter twelve
Today was such a good day. Honestly, even with the broken oven in my loft on Thursday, it’s been a great week. We had a lovely Thanksgiving with Max and his family, Dante had a great appointment and was given the all clear for the next year, and tonight, I sold out at Merry and Bright Night—thanks to Max. I would have eventually sold out, but Max forcing me to close early allowed me to enjoy the parade with Dante and Mila, and I didn’t hate the snuggles I got to sneak in with Max either.
That man. He just won’t quit, and despite the boundary I placed, there’s a part of me that doesn’t want him to give up in his pursuit of me. Maybe there’s a way for Max and me to move forward without me lying to him. I would have to tell him the truth about Luca, and everything we’re hiding from, but I trust Max.
I think I might be falling in love with the man too, and I’m pretty sure that feeling is mutual.
I snuggle into my pillow and take a deep breath—I love the crisp smell of clean sheets. The faint smile remains on my face as I try and slow my mind from running through all the what-if scenarios. Just as I’m about to fall asleep, I feel movement against the side of my bed and open my eyes, expecting to find Dante or Mila climbing into bed with me.
But that’s not what’s happening right now.
The breath in my body escapes me and I struggle to inhale as my brain wakes up to process what—or who—is standing next to my bed. The shadow is too large to be a young child.
Before I can even react, the looming figure dressed in black swiftly places a cloth over my mouth and presses me back into the mattress. Instead of the clean laundry scent I was just focused on, a too-sweet smell invades my lungs just before I’m plunged into complete darkness.
What in the ever-loving daylights is going on, and why does my head feel like it’s in a vice after I got my ass kicked in the ring by Rocky Balboa himself? I groan at the sensation of even moving my head slightly as I attempt to rub my eyes, but my arms are sluggish. I try to blink my eyes open, but the movement feels slow and delayed. The room is spinning and I’m not even sitting up yet.
What the hell is going on?
A flash of a figure standing over my bed comes rushing back, and before I can think about it, I’m trying to jump out of my bed—a movement I fail miserably at and fall to the floor. Apparently, my arms aren’t the only limbs that are sluggish right now. I nail my hip on the bed frame when I fall, and a string of creative curse words escape me while I try to gather the strength to roll and push myself off the floor.
The room comes into focus a little more, and I’m still in my bedroom. The sky is still dark, but my body clock has no idea what time it is. I reach up and grab my cell phone to check the time, and the screen says three forty-seven in the morning. I take a deep breath and try to stand again. I don’t know what’s going on, but I know I need to check on the kids. Grabbing the bedframe, I pull myself up and slowly make my way across my room—suddenly grateful for a small room and minimally required steps to do so. My door is open … as is the door to Dante and Mila’s room, which could be easily explained if one of them got up to use the bathroom and then didn’t close it when they went back to bed. But that logic is quickly replaced with absolute panic when I see both of their beds are empty, with only rumbled bedding left behind.
I spin on my heel a little too fast and the room sways a bit. I grab the doorframe to the kids’ room as I scan the small living and kitchen area, but Dante and Mila aren’t here—and my gut is screaming at me that they didn’t leave on their own. My breath is choppy and shallow. I absently rub a hand over my chest as my heart tries to beat right out of it. My suspicion is only solidified when I see a note taped to a framed photo in the middle of our dining room table. The photo is usually in our family room; someone put it here intentionally. The photo is of Luca holding Dante and Mila, with Luca’s face hidden as he’s looking down at the two of them, who are beaming up with smiles at their dad. My fingers tremble as I pick the frame up to read the note.
The note is written in a dark black marker and says:No Cops. Call your brother and have him call this number if you want to see them ever again.A number with a Philadelphia area code is scrawled under the threat, and I turn just in time to throw up in the kitchen sink.
Wiping my brow, I squeeze my eyes and try to focus on Dante and Mila instead of acknowledging the massive headache I have right now. Where would they take them? I have to find my nephew and niece, but I don’t even know what to do first. Before everything happened, Luca would always have been my first call, but that’s not an option.
