Hook

by Chelle Bliss

  “For sure.” Tilly nods. “I’ve never had a girls’ day.”

  “Oh lord,” I mutter and glance toward the ceiling.

  “It’ll be fabulous. I’m so excited.” Delilah claps her hands, always down for whatever shenanigans Daphne can cook up.

  Leo comes up behind Daphne and wraps his arms around her waist. “The entire day is my treat,” he announces. “No expense is too great for my bella.”

  “Well, I don’t know what to say.” Ma’s at a loss for words, which never happens. The woman has shit to say about anything and everything, but Leo’s all-expenses-paid shopping spree has her lips locked. She just stands there, holding the pot roast, and gawks at Leo.

  Tilly’s beaming. Absolutely radiant as she stands next to my sister, staring at the girls.

  “Why don’t we go Sunday since we’re having dinner tonight?” Daphne asks Ma.

  “Sunday, it is.” Ma nods, finally setting the roaster on top of the stove. “This worked out perfectly.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay with this, Tilly?” Daphne asks.

  Tilly nods and looks to me. “Is your brother?”

  I lift my hands, happy to see her happy. “Whatever makes you happy. Go enjoy yourself for the day. You deserve it.”

  I can already tell my family’s taken a liking to Tilly, just as much as I have. It’s time I take my own advice and lock that shit down, making her mine and putting all doubt to rest.

  17

  Tilly

  The sun’s shining, and the sky is a brilliant blue for the first time in what seems like months. Birds are chirping above me, sounding just as happy as I feel to know spring’s right around the corner.

  I spread one blanket on the grass and wrap another around me before sitting. “I needed to talk to you.”

  I grab the broken twigs, gathering them into a neat pile to keep myself from falling apart. I can’t bring myself to look up, keeping my eyes focused on the wilted grass near the edge of the blanket instead.

  “I met someone.” I pull the blanket tighter around me as the wind kicks up. “You’d like him.”

  I hang my head, letting my eyes fill with tears. I’ve never been able to talk to him without crying, and today’s no different. I thought today would be easier. Moving on is supposed to be. Or at least, that’s what I’ve been told.

  “He’s honorable and kind, just like you, Mitchell.” I take a deep breath, finally letting myself look at his headstone.

  “Roger gave me your letter the other day.” I pause, wishing he could talk back or I could get some sign that he’s at least listening.

  I never thought much about life after death until Mitchell died, but since that moment, I’m always searching for him in the faint sounds in the stillness of the night.

  “I haven’t been able to move on. In my heart, I’ll always be your wife even if you’re not here to be by my side.”

  I pull his letter from my pocket and unfold the paper.

  “Some days I can’t breathe when I realize this isn’t all some cruel joke and that you’re really gone.”

  My eyes scan the paper as my fingers trace his handwriting. “I’ve waited five years to wake up from the nightmare, Mitchell. I know you’re never coming back.”

  I don’t think I’ve ever said those words out loud before now. They were too painful. They still are, but somehow, I know they must be said.

  “Angelo makes me feel alive again,” I tell Mitchell, but a part of me feels guilty for even the smallest amount of joy.

  “This isn’t a goodbye, love. I could never say goodbye to you no matter how many years or how infinite the distance that separates us.”

  I touch the headstone, flattening my palm next to his name. “I’m following the wishes of the letters you’ve left behind. I’m moving forward with my life. You should see the cupcake shop. You would’ve gotten a kick out of it, but I’m following my dreams.”

  Jesus. I’m blabbering. I’m jumping around from topic to topic because focusing too much on Angelo doesn’t seem right, even if Mitchell says it’s okay.

  “I’ll make you proud,” I promise him.

  I sit there for an hour, cleaning away the winter debris from his gravesite and polishing his headstone. I used to come here weekly, but with planning the shop and the extremely cold winter, I haven’t been here in a month.

  “I love you.” I climb to my feet. I back away, staring at his gravesite as a reminder of what I lost and my past. I know I need to move on, following the wishes Mitchell left behind for me.

  “I will love you until my dying breath.”

  “When are you seeing him again?” Roger never beats around the bush. He picks at a cupcake, eating the bottom before the top because he likes to save the best part until the end.

  “Tomorrow. We’re having dinner.” I take the wrapper from his hand, trying to stay busy instead of focusing on our first real date.

  We told each other pizza the other night counted, but we both knew it was a lie. I wasn’t nervous, knowing we were only friends, even if the chemistry was off the charts and the attraction undeniable.

  “Where’s he taking you?”

  “He’s cooking.”

  Roger’s eyes widen. “The man knows you’re a baker, right?”

  I motion toward the kitchen, a place Angelo’s been in at least a half a dozen times. “Uh, yeah. I think he got the message.”

  “I don’t cook for you.”

  I snort. “You’re kind of a shit cook. You’re really great at picking the right restaurant, though.”

  Roger hops up on the table, making himself comfortable. “What’s he making?”

  I shrug and go on mixing the latest batch of blueberry frosting. “He said it’s a surprise.”

  “Are you going to shave everything?”

  I gawk at Roger. “Are we really having this conversation?”

  He nods. “You need to be prepared for all possibilities. Hell, get a Brazilian.”

  I point the spatula at him. The man falls to his knees if he gets a paper cut. “Why don’t you get the hair ripped off your asshole and then we’ll talk, ’kay?”

  Roger shivers. “Men aren’t meant to be hairless.”

  “Neither is my pussy, buddy. I’ll trim.”

  “It’s not the seventies, babe. Bush is not in, and no man wants a mouth full of fur.”

  I shoot him a look over my mixing bowl. “How would you know?”

  He gags. “I know when I get a hair stuck in my throat, it takes everything in me not to hurl right on the man.”

  “Wait.” I stop what I’m doing and give him my full attention. “Do guys have hairy dicks?”

  He laughs. “I’ve seen a few, but when their shit isn’t manscaped and it’s a mess down there, it’s an immediate no for me.”

  “So, you just walk away? Just like that?”

  He licks the top layer of frosting from his cupcake and closes his eyes. “This shit is bananas.”

  “It’s blueberry,” I correct him. “Answer my question.”

  “I meant it’s amazing.”

  “Roger.”

  “Fine. I don’t walk away when they have hair thicker than the densest forest. They can happily suck my dick, but I’m not returning the favor.”

  “You’re a pig.” I fling a glob of frosting in his direction.

  “Babe.” He laughs. “A pig wouldn’t care what a man has going on down there. They’d suck him off like he contains the last drop of water on earth. But me.” He touches his chest. “I’m a cock connoisseur, and I’ll only put the best in my mouth.”

  “Fuck. You’re sick.”

  “What was the last cock you saw besides my brother’s?”

  I busy myself, avoiding answering that one because Roger would flip his lid if I told him the truth. There’s no way I’m divulging my sex life before Mitchell. No way in hell.

  “Tilly,” he says. “The last cock.”

  God, it’s so embarrassing. I can barely bring myself t
o even think about the answer, let alone voice it.

  “Wait.” He hops off the table and stalks toward me, stopping just a few feet away. “Don’t say it.”

  “I’m not.” I stare down at the blue frosting turning in the bowl.

  “Did you see another cock besides Mitchell’s?”

  “I’ve seen plenty.”

  He puts his hands down on the steel island, and I can feel the weight of his stare without even looking up. “How many cocks have you seen?”

  “Tons,” I say, way overstating the true reality.

  “In person?”

  “Well, yeah.” I mean, I saw them with my own eyes, but they may have been on the computer or television. Mitchell’s is the only dick I’ve actually seen live and in living color.

  “Oh fuck. You were a virgin before Mitchell, weren’t you?”

  I glance up, narrowing my gaze. “What’s so wrong with that?”

  “Nothing. Nothing at all. Not even a handy or two to some poor schmuck in high school?”

  I shake my head.

  “Thirty years old and only one cock.” He says it like it’s the most unbelievable thing he’s ever heard.

  “Yep.”

  “Do you remember what to do?”

  I drop the spatula in the mixing bowl and hang my head, trying not to laugh or cry. I’m on the verge of both, but I can’t seem to figure out which one best suits how I feel.

  “I think I remember my way around a dick, Roger. They’re not that complicated.”

  “True.”

  “Plus, your brother never seemed to complain.”

  “Eh,” Roger mutters. “When you love someone, nothing else matters.”

  “Are you saying I was a bad lay?”

  “I’m saying you can do no wrong. Calm your shit, woman. Just promise me you’ll be prepared for your date.”

  I rub my forehead with the back of my hand and sigh. “What if I can’t do it?”

  “It’s like riding a bike. If you have trouble, just let him take the lead.”

  “No, Roger. I’m talking about what if I freeze up and can’t. Mitchell’s the only man I’ve ever been with, and what if my mind isn’t ready to take the next step?”

  “Tilly.” He touches my arms, always comforting me. “If Angelo’s any kind of man, he’ll wait as long as you need. If he doesn’t, I’ll kick his ass so that he’ll never look at you again.”

  “Don’t be an asshole.” I smack his chest. “I really like this guy.”

  “Don’t worry about anything, babe. When the time’s right, it’ll happen. Just follow your heart, and you can never go wrong.”

  18

  Angelo

  Tate’s been putting on a ballerina performance for the last thirty minutes, giving absolutely zero shits that I’m trying to get ready for my date. She’s spinning around the living room, wearing the purple tutu my mother bought her for Christmas, pulling out all the stops to get me to change my mind.

  “Why can’t I stay, Daddy?”

  The minute she heard Tilly was coming over, she started to whine. She loves Uncle Lucio and Aunt Delilah and is usually thrilled to be going to their house, but not tonight. Not when Cupcake Tilly’s going to be in the house.

  “It’s an adult night, baby.”

  “I’ll stay in my room.” She does this thing with her lip like it’s going to make me change my mind.

  “We both know that’s not true.”

  “I promise.”

  “You’ll have fun with Uncle Lucio. Let Daddy have a little time with Tilly.”

  “Are you two going to fall asleep on the couch again?”

  I shake my head. “No, sweetheart.”

  I wouldn’t mind another night of Tilly in my arms. I forgot how peaceful it was to sleep with someone. The kids are hell at night when they crawl in my bed, kicking me like I’m in their way and not the other way around.

  Lucio walks through the door and catches sight of Tate. “I see we’re still on the ballet kick.”

  Tate screams and runs toward Lucio, jumping into his arms. “Uncle.” She giggles as he tickles her ribs. “Stop.”

  He holds her tightly, giving her a moment to catch her breath. “Are you ready for some fun, squirt?”

  “Can we have cookies?”

  “Sure.”

  “Can we have cake?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

  Lucio looks at me, clearly seeking help, but I only shrug and continue to clear the dinner table of their coloring books and crayons.

  “Dude.” He points to Tate as she pouts in his arms. “Where does she put it?”

  “No idea, man, but the kid will eat you out of house and home.”

  “Uncle Lucio.” She grabs his face, and I know what’s coming. She’s going to turn on the cute little girl charm, wrapping him further around her finger.

  “What, doll?” He pushes her brown hair over her shoulder.

  She leans closer, and their noses almost touch. “If you get me cake, I promise to be a good girl.” She mushes his cheeks together. “Please.”

  Man, this kid makes it damn near impossible to say no to her. I struggle with it at times, but her uncles… They have zero ability to deny her anything when she pulls out all the stops.

  “Gimme a kiss,” Lucio tells her with his fish lips. “And we’ll stop and get cake for dessert.”

  Tate’s eyes widen like she’s shocked. She’s not. She knew exactly what she was doing with my brother. She keeps her hold on his face as she gives him a sloppy kiss on the lips, but it’s only for a second. She wiggles, trying to break free of his arms. “I have to get my bag,” she tells him as she pushes against his chest.

  “And your brother,” I tell her as her feet touch the floor, and she takes off down the hallway, skipping because she got exactly what she wanted.

  Lucio’s a sucker. We all are. Tate knows it. I know it. But somehow, my family keeps falling for her tricks.

  Lucio rubs the back of his neck, laughing. “She just played me, didn’t she?”

  “Like a pro.”

  “When she hits puberty, you better lock her in her room.”

  I laugh, but the thought’s crossed my mind more than once. I’m already pissed at the first fucker who’s going to lay his hands on my kid, professing to love her forever, when he’s really just a dick with legs.

  Lucio leans against the counter, watching me as I enter panic mode, shoving shit wherever I can find room.

  “Everything ready for Tilly?”

  “Food’s in the oven, and I cleaned, so…yeah.” I glance around the bottom level, amazed at how clean my place looks. With two kids, having a surface free of toys is completely unheard of. But Tilly saw it in all its glory the other night and didn’t seem to flinch.

  “We’ll keep the kids as long as you want. Don’t rush on our account. Delilah already has plans for them tomorrow afternoon.”

  “You don’t have to do that. I can pick them up early.”

  Lucio flattens his lips. “Slow your roll, Jimmy Dean.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “You know. The sausage?” he asks like I’m a complete idiot for not understanding. “Never mind. Just enjoy some you time.”

  I nod. “That’s the plan.”

  “And don’t forget to…”

  “Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.” I wave him off.

  “Lock it up tight, brother.”

  Tate comes barreling into the living room with two backpacks, one on her back and the other in her hand, and she’s pulling Brax by the collar with her free hand. “We’re ready,” she says like she can’t get away from me fast enough.

  Lucio grabs the backpack from her hand and stares at her other hand until she gets the message to let go of her brother. “How does DeLuca’s sound?”

  Tate squeals. “Perfect. Can we get Cassata cake?”

  “I’m sure they sell it by the slice.”

  I la
ugh because I know a slice is never enough for my little monster.

  She puts her hands on her hips and furrows her brows. “I mean, the whole cake.”

  He jerks his head back, and again, he looks at me for help. “Really?”

  “She will stab you with her fork if you try to take a bite of her cake. You’re safer if you buy the whole damn thing,” I tell him, giving him a warning because my girl is off the charts crazy about her sweets.

  He gawks at her. “We gotta talk about your eating habits, kid.”

  She pulls at his hand and moves toward the doorway, barely looking at me. “Bye, Daddy.”

  I grab Brax, giving him a giant hug before he latches on to Lucio’s other hand. “Be a good little man.”

  “I got this,” Lucio tells me, but he looks more like they’ve got him than the other way around.

  I watch through the window as Lucio piles the kids into his new extended cab pickup. That was the closest thing he’d get to a family car, but it’s an improvement over his old motorcycle.

  I have exactly one hour until Tilly arrives. That’s just enough time to finish tidying up, shower, and get my shit under control before she walks through the door.

  I feel like we had a breakthrough the other day after our talk in her kitchen and dinner at my parents’. She fit right in, and in true Gallo fashion, they welcomed her into the fold.

  Now it’s my turn to make sure she knows for sure that I want more than friendship. There’s more between us than attraction. We’re separate halves of the same broken heart, searching for peace in a world that no longer seems to make sense.

  Tilly kicks off her shoes, making herself more comfortable on the couch next to me. She turns, one arm propped up on the cushion and the other hand holding a glass of white wine. “I needed an evening like this.”

  I face her, letting my knee touch hers. It’s so high school, but I’m trying to find my single guy groove again. I knew dating would be hard. Marissa and I had been together for so long, I was really clueless when it came to anything besides what she liked. Even then, my moves weren’t entirely smooth, but none of that mattered.