by Stacey Lynn
“Give me a minute to figure that out.” I close my eyes and squeeze her hand. The road rumbles beneath us and we swerve as Paulie attempts to avoid slamming into potholes the size of Boston. “It was indescribable, honestly, and that’s not a copout. I mean, that dream. Growing up watching films of my dad. Wanting that. Seeing it with my brothers. I mean, I grew up watching re-runs of dad’s games and then seeing my brothers hit the ice to the roar of thousands. And then it was my turn, and… damn. Skating out onto the ice that first time…” I turn my head against the headrest and crack open one eye. “I cried.”
“What?” She laughs at me, but it’s true.
“Swear to God.” I’m laughing now too and it feels so good to remember that night. It gets lost in the work and the focus and the tomorrows, but damn…. I won’t forget it. “I was so nervous before and my hands were so sweaty I wasn’t sure I’d be able to hold my stick. I thought for sure my gloves would fly right off my hands. Then I was terrified I’d fall, make an ass out of myself. I only had a few days to practice, you know, and I didn’t really know anyone. Jason was in the locker room with me, giving me shit, telling me how much I sucked and what a fool I was to think I was good enough.”
She pulls a face. “Nice brother.”
“Nah. I needed that. We always gave each other shit and that familiarity, that at least to him I wasn’t any different, I needed the smack in the ass it gave me. But as soon as I hit the ice, heard my name called, introduced, and knew my parents where there… yeah, I cried. Stood in line for the anthem, hand over my heart and let the tears fall. Thankfully it wasn’t noticed on camera. Everyone probably thought it was sweat, but Hendrix was next to me. Heard me sniffling like a baby. He still gives me shit for it.”
Her eyes shimmer and I can’t tell if she’s crying over my sappy story, but she swallows and presses her lips together to fight it back. “That’s really sweet. I watched you that night.”
“You did? I tried calling you after that game.”
Her smile falls and her gaze flicks to the window. “I’d already blocked you.”
“Why?” I already knew she had, but we haven’t talked about this yet. Not why she essentially ghosted me. “Why’d you do it?”
“Fear.” She shrugs. “Everything was so uncertain. I liked you so much then that I don’t know… I guess I was afraid we’d try something and it wouldn’t work out and then you’d end up breaking my heart.”
“That doesn’t sound all that different from now.” It’s a punch to the gut to realize it, too.
“I’d like to hope I’m smarter now, to not throw a good thing away because I’m afraid.”
She’s buckled in too far for me to grab her and kiss her like I want to, to reassure her in ways I can’t find the words for. “Are you? Afraid?”
“Not of you,” she says, and I know she’s not when her voice thickens and turns sad. “Maybe just everything else.”
Paulie drops us off on a street with a crumbling brick front and both Katie and I flash wide eyes at each other.
“Best pizza in the city. Family owned. Only known local. They don’t have no website or Facebook page or nuthin’. Tell ‘em Paulie sent ya and they’ll getcha right in. Yeah?”
“Uh. Sure Paulie.”
Katie’s side of the SUV is curbside so she slides out, gripping her purse tight to her stomach and she holds the door open for me.
There’s a stairway with a century-old iron railing that looks like it could crumble beneath my weight.
“Down here?” Katie asks. Her brows are lost beneath her stocking hat. It’s the only place to go, the rest of the block looks like rowhomes but the neighborhood is nice and well-kept.
“I guess.” I maneuver down the stairs to below street level. Which is pretty freaking awesome with my knee and a crutch, along with uneven and crooked cement steps and the threat of ice.
“I think Paulie hates me,” I grunt. Katie is next to me, walking slowly, making sure I’m balanced but we make it to the bottom without issue and Katie opens the door.
I’m pretty sure we’re about to walk into some mafia-owned restaurant and be greeted with a dozen rifles shoved in our faces. I picture men like Guido or Mario, perhaps a Donnie or Vinnie.
“This place is something.”
“I hope we make it out alive.”
Katie gasps and I nudge the back of her leg with the tip of my crutch. “Hate not being able to be a gentleman and shit, but can you please get the door for me?”
The space is narrow and there’s barely room to maneuver on the small landing and pull open the door. No way am I trying it all here. Katie’ll probably end up with the handle of a crutch in her eye.
She opens the door and pulls back, allowing me to scoot in and push open a second storm door. That I can do and I lean my body weight against it until she’s in and closing the heavy wood door behind her.
As soon as we enter, I’m in awe.
This isn’t some crumbling pizza joint with the typical red and white check tablecloths, dark lights and wood floors with a fake rose or flower in a tiny vase.
“Wow.” Katie’s as awe-filled as I am and when she glances at me, her eyes are gleaming.
It looks like we’ve stepped into a speakeasy from the prohibition era. Jazz music plays on speakers, music that makes me want to tap my feet and throw Katie in the air. The bar is at the back of the restaurant, bright lights illuminating miles long and several rows of alcohol and chandeliers drip crystals and hang over rounded, velvet-looking covered booths with tables in the shape of a half moon in front of them. The walls are all the same crumbling brick as outside and the ceiling is unfinished, exposing the plumbing and heat vents. The mix of elegance and rustic gives the restaurant a really freaking cool look. There are two rows of simple circular tables and chairs in the middle and there are only a hand full of customers taking up three of the tables. They’re businessmen and women, dressed in suits and fancy attire, hair gelled and styled and next to a woman at one table is a coat hanging from a hook outside the booth that has to be real fur.
“Who in the hell is Paulie?” I ask more to myself than Katie, but she still fights against a laugh.
A guy, dressed in all black with a white tie and white towel draped over his forearm approaches us from the side and heads straight to a small host stand.
“Hello and welcome to Milanio’s Family Restaurant. Two of you today?”
“Yeah, please.” I’m still stunned Paulie knows about a place like this and brought us here, but it’s perfect. The booths are so high it’s hard to see people sitting in them even while we’re standing. Once we’re sitting, unless someone looks at me straight on, I’m essentially unrecognizable and I love it.
I gesture for Katie to go first and make a mental note to ask Paulie his favorite kind of alcohol. If Katie and I can come here while I’m in town and not be recognized, or if he knows of other similar restaurants, I’ll be in his debt. And something tells me I might need to find more places like this given the way she ran from the hellfire of her office earlier.
We take a seat and are given the menus. Once our drink orders, water for me and club soda with lime for Katie, are given, the host hustles off toward the back.
Katie turns to me, hands clasped together, eye lit with excitement. “This might sound stupid because I normally don’t get club soda, but I feel like I needed something fancier here.” She gives the room another glance as I chuckle and when her face returns to me, she leans in closer. “Did you know about this place? I mean, I’ve lived here for years.”
“No idea, but we’ll be coming back for sure. This is damn cool.”
“Yeah it is.” She picks up the menu and places it back down. “I’ll eat pretty much anything on my pizza besides olives, so whatever you feel like eating is good for me.”
“I hate olives.” They’re one of the few things I refuse to eat. “You okay with meat?”
It’s strange how we know each other so well, and yet know so
little, too. It’s the same thing I thought when she came to my place for dinner. That I had no idea what kind of food she likes bugs me. But at least I have time to figure it out.
She wiggles her fingers in a gimme gimme gesture. “Give me all the meat.”
As soon as she says it her cheeks match her hot pink scarf and matching hat.
I open my mouth, but she waves her hand.
“Don’t… don’t say it. I walked right into that. Made it easy.”
“Sweetie, you can walk right into my meat any day. I’m always that easy.”
She shakes her head, laughing when our drinks are slid onto the table.
It’s the same gentleman who seated us and he now has a pad of paper and pen with him. “Thank you for joining us this afternoon. I’m Ralph and I’ll be taking care of you. Before I give you a few more minutes with the menu, may I ask who recommended our home to you?”
Home. What a strange way to describe the restaurant, but I guess when you work in this industry, you practically live there.
“Paulie,” I say, not hesitating. I’m way too curious about how he knows about this. “You know him? He… well… he works for a driving service.”
“No shit? Paulie? Yeah, we know that fool.”
The small, thin guy’s face lights up and he turns toward the back. “Hey yo, Vito! This fool here knows Paulie!”
I’m surprised by their shouting in a place that serves to their upscale clientele, but Vito and Ralph don’t seem to care.
“Hey!” a bald guy, I assume Vito, which isn’t helping me think this place isn’t mafia-related, shouts back and points a thick finger in my direction. “You tell that fool him throwing business my way doesn’t negate the fifty bucks he owes me, hear?”
“I hear ya.” I nod toward the guy at the bar but reply more to Ralph. Vito must get my drift when I lift my hand in his direction.
“So, Paulie told you about us, he tell you what to get?”
“No. Not at all, you have a recommendation?”
“Aw man, Ma’s pies are the best. Get the double bacon and extra meat. Swear to you, best thing you’ll have tasted.”
He has to mean food only, because personally, I think the woman across from me tastes pretty damn good. I tilt my head toward Katie who seems as entertained and flustered by this place as I am.
“Sounds great.” She grins at Ralph and hands him the menus. “Thank you.”
“Thanks for joining us today. Paulie’s good people. We’ll treat you right.”
He takes off and when I focus my attention on Katie, she’s still fighting a laugh, but this time with wide eyes. “Where are we?”
“I have no clue.” I take her hand in mine and hold it on the table. “But I’m glad I’m here with you.”
12
Katie
Jude knows the exact right things to say. When we first met, I worried that’s all he was… full of lines and looking to get into my pants, but it only took a couple times being around him to realize that isn’t true. It’s who he is.
Lunch flies by and I’m stuffed with thick cheese, the most delicious sauce I’ve ever had on a pizza and my stomach is so full I’m worried about falling asleep standing up when I head back to work.
We talk about nothing and everything, our conversation seamless and easy as it always was and when the bill comes, I no longer hide my laugh at this crazy place and experience when Jude throws down an extra sixty dollars in addition to the tip.
“That should cover Paulie’s debt,” he says, standing next to the booth and gathering his crutch. He’s already texted Paulie, so I know he’s outside waiting for us.
I don’t waste time bundling back up and we move as fast as Jude can, taking our time on the stairs of death.
“Are you doing anything tonight?” I ask Jude once we’re on the sidewalk. Paulie’s SUV is at the curb and he’s at the back door, holding it open for us.
“No. Just watching TV, why?”
“I was wondering if you’d want to come to my place.”
His brows rise and I like that I can surprise him. “Tell me when you’ll be home and I’ll be there. Better to watch television with company than alone.”
I figured he wouldn’t have plans, but it strikes me how much time he really has been alone. He has to be bored out of his mind since he only sits around and watches hockey. That has to kill him. Perhaps getting him out of his place will be good for him and I make a mental note to get a hold of Garrett. If we can all go somewhere some night and hang out together, I don’t think that’d be wrong at all.
“Thanks for lunch, Paulie,” he says, turning to the guy who’s broad-shouldered and bald.
“Glad you enjoyed. They’re good people.”
“And your debt is now paid.”
Paulie throws his head back and bursts out in a booming laugh. “Vito. My cousin’s a dick. Sorry about that. And thanks, but that was unnecessary. I’d win it back this weekend.”
“No problem,” Jude replied and I cover my mouth to hide my laughter as I follow Jude into the vehicle.
“That was your family?”
Paulie nods and waits for me to be seated. “Yes, ma’am. Good people. Good food. Told you they’d take care of you.”
We’re quieter on the way back to my office, Jude holding my hand like we’re teenagers being chauffeured by parents to a high school dance. For as much as I rushed out of the office earlier, scared someone would call me out on going to lunch with a patient, that anxiety doesn’t return until we pull up to the building’s back entrance again and Logan is outside.
“Shit.”
He has his hands shoved into the pockets of his fluffy North Face coat, the typical winter wear gear of any smart Chicagoan, and he looks like he’s been waiting for awhile.
“You want me to talk to him?” Jude asks.
“No.” I shake my head and reach for the door. “Logan will be cool. See you tonight?”
He leans forward like he wants to kiss me, but the windows aren’t blacked out, so Logan would see. Like he realizes it at the last moment, he whispers, “Tonight?”
“Can’t wait. I’ll text my address when I get a minute.”
“All right. See you soon, Katie, thanks for lunch.”
“You too. And thanks, Paulie.”
“No worries, ma’am,” he calls out as I open the door and jump from the backseat. Logan stays near the door, eyes on me as I walk toward him and the SUV pulls out.
“Meghan’s been looking for you. You missed an appointment.”
“What?” I couldn’t have. I wouldn’t have skipped out on one.
“Herman showed, said he was supposed to see you at one.”
“It’s one-oh-five.” Still, I hurry to the door and open it, Logan hot on my heels. “Five minutes isn’t missing an appointment, it’s getting caught in traffic during lunch.”
“With a patient,” he whispers behind me. “What are you doing, Kate?”
He follows me to the break room where I rip off my scarf and shove it in my locker. “Are you going to say anything?”
He absolutely could. Calling me out on this would be smart for him, but I trust Logan not to say anything. He’s always had my back, but this decision might screw me over. Especially if Meghan’s pissed and knows I’m late. She’s never been my biggest fan and I’ve known her since my first internship here. I don’t know if it’s a simple personality clash between the two of us, or something else, but she’s the one person I can’t have digging into why I’m late.
“Shit.” I fling everything else inside and slam the door closed. Logan is next to me, taking off his coat and shaking his head.
“I won’t say anything, but you need to be smart. He’s a good guy, but I care about you and your job.”
“I know. We’re just friends, though.”
“Friends, my ass. I see the way you two watch each other. Man wants you and you feel the same. I might be the only one noticing so far, but that doesn’t mean others won�
�t.”
He’s absolutely right. Which means I’m screwed. Just… not enough to care right now, which is the most abnormal thing to ever happen to me. I always care.
Our mouths are fused together, tongues twisting, and my hands are in Jude’s hair while I rock against his lap. We haven’t said more than hello since he showed up at my apartment. He flung out his crutch, threw an arm around me, and yanked me to him so hard I stumbled and he fell back into the wall. Then there wasn’t any talking as he maneuvered us to my couch where he fell into it and pulled me with him. I’m being careful of the weight I’m putting on him, but other than how freaking good he feels and tastes and how much he turns me on, his knee isn’t the only thing I’m thinking of.
I would rip off my shirt and strip off his, along with the rest of our clothes if I wasn’t mildly aware enough of the chicken and bacon pasta bake I have in the oven, ready to be done in only a few minutes. My body is pulsing for him, for his touch, and beneath me, he’s so damn hard I can rub against him and find that perfect spot where I could have an orgasm like this.
But this, making out on my couch, all frenzied and rushed is not how I want it.
I yank my mouth off his and press my hand to his coat. He didn’t even have time to remove it before taking me with abandon. Goodness gracious. It’s so freaking hot to be so desired by this guy.
“Hi.”
Jude’s eyes are slow to open, like it’s taking him a few moments to catch up to the fact I’ve stopped our make-out session. Temporarily. If he’s feeling good enough for this, I’m hoping we can continue later.
His palm brushes my cheek and settles at the back of my neck. He’s strong but holds me like I’m crystal. He blinks and his expression changes to confused. “I haven’t even taken off my coat.”
I fall into his shoulder and laugh, kissing his exposed throat and the stubble that’s there.