Page 35 of Ruthless Consequences

His thumb rubs against the side of my index finger. His skin is calloused, like he does outside work, but all I feel is a soft caress. “Get used to it.”

He stops in front of a hot-dog place. Nathan’s. The building says it’s been there since 1916.

“Time to eat.”

He orders everything for us, and we take a seat outside. The beach is our view, but we watch each other. He takes huge bites, like he hasn’t eaten in days, but they’re neat. Controlled. I take small ones, not wanting my stomach to balloon before we really get started. He wipes my mouth with a napkin, because apparently, I’m drooling over him.

I take a small sip of milkshake. It’s so damn good, I’m having a hard time controlling how fast I drink it. “You’ve been here before?” I say, because he left me hanging in the car.

“Yeah,” he says. “Ma—Carine. She used to take me. We didn’t do vacations. So, she and I would take off and rent a hotel for a night or two. She told me we were tourists in our own town.” He balls up a napkin and sets it in his trash pile.

“If you didn’t do vacations, why did you come here?” I take a fry and dip it in ketchup topped with plenty of pepper.

He opens his mouth. It’s the most natural thing. I feed him like we’ve been doing this for years. I dip another while he finishes his.

“I phrased that wrong. Michele doesn’t do vacations.”

I don’t hear anything in his voice when he talks about his dad. No heat. No ice. Nothing. Not like Ava. When she says Sonny’s name, she almost spits it out.

“How come? I mean, I know how busy Valentino’s is. It’s one of the most popular bakeries in all of New York. But wouldn’t that be even more of a reason to close—at least once a year? Even the ovens need a break.”

He feeds me a fry. “Sundays, weddings, and births. That’s it.”

“I hope you have a big family,” I say.

“Just me. The last time he closed the doors for avacationwas when I was born. You want to work there?”

To be closer to you?“I’m thinking about it. Mrs. Carine wants me to—”

“Don’t,” he says.

I feel the fire behind the one word. I say nothing, looking down, running a fry through the ketchup and pepper. Then I think about Lilo’s grandma and eat it.

He tilts my chin up and our eyes meet. I think he’s going to kiss me, but he sighs instead. I’m breathing him in, forgetting about the lingering smell of sweets in the air. He laughs, surprising me.

“Come on,” he says, standing.

We ditch our trash, and I say, “What?” as we walk toward the beach.

“You’re sniffing the air. Scenting something sweet to eat.”

I grin. “I am, but it’ll have to wait. I need to give my stomach a chance to deflate.”

We say nothing as we trudge through the sand. It’s a little walk from the boardwalk to the actual water. We stop at the edge of it. I watch as the waves rush in, but I have no desire to touch it. It seems like it would be cold. But the sun. It’s high and bright, and I close my eyes, turning my face toward it.

“Freckles,” he says, and his hand touches my nose.

“Just there,” I say.

“What do you remember about your mom?”

Even though the water hasn’t touched me, I feel like the cold of it rushes over my hot skin, and I lose my breath. I open my eyes and meet his.

“Cinnamon,” he says, but I don’t think he means to.

And I see what this is. He told me about his dad. He expects me to tell him about my mom. Pain for pain. He might not let it show, but I know there’s something there. Something that drives him to go a different way. Far, far away from the bakery and the man who lives for it.

“Not much,” I say, my chest tight. “I remember her back as it left.”

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