Hook Page 4

  “You’re insane.”

  “No. No.” Daphne shakes her head. “It’s your thing.”

  “I think it’s a lot of guys’ thing.” Leo earns himself a slap to the chest with that statement.

  “Shut it,” she tells him, giving him the side-eye. “You married me.”

  “I didn’t say it was my type, bella.” He grabs her hand and lifts it to his mouth, turning on the Casanova charm that won her over in the first place.

  “Even though you like the pure-as-the-driven-snow look, you also like a woman with a dirty mouth.”

  “It’s hot.” Lucio nods his head slowly and wraps one arm around Delilah. “This one can swear like a sailor.”

  Delilah blushes and rests her head on his shoulder. They’re so stinking cute, they make me a little sick with all their adorableness.

  “Anyway,” Daphne continues, ignoring Lucio and Delilah as they fawn over each other. “You also go for the chicks who are a little broken.”

  “Seriously, Dee, you’re describing every man on the planet here.” I wave off her insanity.

  “I’m not.” She looks at Leo. “He doesn’t want innocent, and I was never broken or in need of help.”

  “If I remember correctly, you were about to face-plant in front of three hundred wedding guests when I saved you.” The look Leo gets from my sister is one I can only describe as lethal.

  “And you want the woman to be just as sweet on the inside as she looks on the out. If we weren’t brother and sister, we’d never work. I’m too bitchy and bossy for you.”

  “Your lips to God’s ears,” Leo whispers and glances up at the ceiling.

  “Every man wants a good woman at their side.” Pop places his hand over my mother’s. “Without her, we’d be lost.”

  And that’s exactly where I am.

  Lost.

  Without Marissa, I feel like I’m just wandering through life. Even when Michelle and I would hang out, the sadness wouldn’t leave my soul. She didn’t fill up my heart the way a woman should, or at least, the way Marissa did. I’m not sure there’s anyone in the world who could fill the void her death has left.

  “Hello. You’re forgetting about Roger,” I remind my sister and the entire family.

  “She’s not in love with him.” She shakes her head because, clearly, she knows way more than I do about a total stranger.

  “You don’t know that.”

  “If I’m in love with the man I’m having a drink with, I most certainly do not ask for another man.”

  “Maybe she just wanted to say thank you,” I tell her.

  “Nope. She had herself all dolled up. She was there with a purpose.”

  “Daphne, I love you, but you’re off your rocker.”

  “Daddy,” Tate says from the archway to the kitchen. “Can you help me?”

  “I’m coming, baby.” I push back from the table, thankful Tate’s saving me. “This conversation’s over.”

  “Mark my words…” Daphne says as I walk out of the room, but I don’t stop to hear the end of the statement.

  “Watch, Daddy.” Tate pushes off the cinder blocks in the alley, showing me how well she can ride her bike without training wheels. She has the biggest smile on her face as the bike wobbles back and forth, but she doesn’t stop peddling. Even though it snowed last night, most has melted due to the unusually sunny winter day.

  “Good job, baby!” I’m a little choked up, but my voice doesn’t waver. Something this small and trivial shouldn’t evoke this much emotion, but it’s another step in her growing up and another thing Marissa has missed.

  “She’s growing up fast.” Ma walks outside and joins me behind the bar. “Soon, she’ll be dating and going away to college.”

  “Ma, come on. She’s in elementary school.” I wave to Tate as she glides by, a little steadier this time.

  “Look, Grandma.” Tate smiles, but her eyes are quickly forced back on the path when the handlebars start to turn.

  “You’re doing good, sweetheart.” Ma claps as Tate speeds by.

  “Angelo, I remember being out here with you when you were her age. It feels like yesterday. It all went by in the blink of an eye.”

  “Time doesn’t pass so fast for me, Ma,” I confess. Every day since Marissa died has felt like a year, passing ever so torturously slow.

  Ma wraps her arm around my middle and places her head on my arm. “Now that Michelle’s gone, it’s time for you to move forward. That was fun while it lasted, but you need to get serious about your future.”

  Jesus. “I liked Michelle, Ma, but…”

  “She wasn’t the right one, baby. It’s okay to scratch an itch with someone you trust. That’s just being a man and alive.”

  “I shouldn’t have.”

  “Oh, stop. You’re still breathing, Angelo. A man has needs.”

  I glance down at her. “Ma, can we change the subject?”

  “Fine. I won’t talk about sex.” She grips my waist tighter.

  “Thank fuck,” I whisper.

  “Let’s talk about the cupcake.”

  And just like clockwork, Tilly walks out of the back of her store and steps into the alley. She’s bathed in sunlight, looking so damn angelic and more beautiful than I ever could’ve imagined underneath the sea of white she was wearing when we met.

  “Wow,” Ma says exactly what I’m thinking. “I take it that’s her?”

  “Angelo!” Tilly waves with one hand and shields her eyes with the other.

  I wave back, careful not to be overenthusiastic, even though my stomach does this weird thing when I let my eyes travel down her body. She’s wearing a black pencil skirt that goes down past her knees, a white blouse with the first two buttons undone, and red stiletto heels that accentuate the muscles in her legs.

  I suck in a breath as she saunters our way, feeling like I’ve taken a punch to the gut. Her brown hair looks more auburn in the sun, with streaks of red and orange blazing through the brown.

  “Hi.” She looks at my mom as she gets closer, and she pulls her black knee-length coat closed. “I’m Tilly. I’m opening the cupcake shop.”

  My mother holds out her hand to Tilly but keeps the other one securely fastened around my waist. “I’m Betty, Angelo’s mother.”

  Tilly shakes my mother’s hand, but her eyes are locked on me for a few seconds before she speaks. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Betty.”

  The deep sea of green in her eyes is striking, almost changing by the second in the daylight.

  “You as well.” I can hear the happiness in my ma’s voice.

  “Daddy!” Tate draws my attention back to the cupcake standing in front of me. “Look.” Tate lifts one hand off the handlebar, tempting fate.

  “Hold on, baby.” I shake my head, but I stop myself from running down the alley and snatching her off the bike. “Don’t play around.”

  “She’s a brave little thing, isn’t she?” Tilly asks.

  “She’s too much like her mother. She’s going to be the death of me.”

  Tilly laughs, and it’s the most glorious sound in the world. “That’s a little girl’s job.”

  I lift an eyebrow. “Killing their fathers?”

  “No. Keeping life interesting.”

  “I better get inside and check on your father. It was wonderful meeting you, Tilly. Don’t be a stranger.” Ma glances up at me and winks. “Take your time.”

  I’m not sure if she’s talking about Tate riding her bike or letting Tilly into my world. “We’ll be up for dessert.”

  “You’re more than welcome to join us, Tilly,” Ma offers, taking a page out of my sister’s book. Always nosy and looking for an angle.

  “That’s mighty sweet, but I have a batch of cupcakes I just put in the oven. I can’t leave them. I’m testing a new recipe.”

  “I’m a good taste tester but an awful cook, dear. If you ever need help or a willing mouth, I’m always around.” Ma releases me and steps backward. “And so is Angelo.”


  Tilly blushes and can’t hide her smile. “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “Betty, dear. Betty.”

  “Thanks, Betty,” Tilly says before my mother steps back into the bar, leaving us alone.

  “So.” I tuck my hands into my pockets like I’m sixteen again and totally unsure of what the hell to say to a girl.

  “I want to apologize for yesterday.”

  My eyebrows shoot up. “Apologize? For what?”

  “I came on a little strong, and that’s totally not me.”

  “I didn’t think you were coming on strong.” I’m being nice, of course. She was coming on strong, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it.

  “Oh, please.” She touches my arm, sending little shock waves up and down my skin. “I was acting like a…”

  “You were sweet.” I do nothing to pull away from her touch.

  She’s standing so close, and all I can smell is vanilla and everything cake. “I’ve been trying to step outside my comfort zone, and I may have gone a little over the top.” She laughs and does this adorable thing with her head. “Okay, maybe a lot over the top. I don’t want you to think I’m a lunatic or a harlot.”

  “It’s been a long time since I’ve heard someone say harlot.” I give her a dopey smile, and my insides warm despite the cold breeze.

  “It’s a Southern thing. I grew up in a tiny town in Georgia. You can take the girl out of the South, but you can’t take the South out of the girl.”

  “How did you end up here?”

  “My husband was stationed at Great Lakes. He was a Navy SEAL and was an instructor for a bit, training new recruits.”

  “Oh.”

  “When he died, I didn’t know where else to go. My parents passed years ago, and I had no family back in Georgia anymore. I stayed because of my brother-in-law, Roger.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say, familiar with the pain she felt. “I know how hard it is to lose your spouse.”

  She gives me a pained smile and tightens her grip on my arm. “I heard about your wife. I’m so sorry, Angelo. No one should have to endure the kind of heartache we have.”

  I place my hand over hers, allowing myself a moment to grieve and take solace in a stranger. “No, they shouldn’t, Tilly.”

  “Hi, I’m Tate.” Tate practically pushes her way between us.

  I drag my eyes away from Tilly, almost forgetting that Tate was riding her bike back and forth, probably watching me like a hawk. “Hey, baby.”

  “Hi, Tate. I’m Tilly. I own the cupcake shop.”

  Tate’s eyes go wide. “I love cupcakes,” she whispers. “Are you my daddy’s new friend?”

  “I think so.” Tilly peers up at me.

  “Tate, Tilly and I just met.”

  “Daddy,” Tate almost sings my name. “Remember our talk the other night?”

  “Tate.”

  “She’s perfect.” Tate nods quickly.

  Tilly blushes, probably able to guess what we’re talking about. I’m a little mortified that my kid is throwing me under the bus just like everyone else in my damn family.

  “Go ride your bike.” I tap her cute little nose.

  “My daddy’s getting me a horse,” Tate tells Tilly, being defiant and not listening to me.

  “Really?” Tilly crouches down, getting eye-to-eye with Tate, and somehow keeps her balance on those ridiculous shoes.

  “Yeah.” Tate twists her little body back and forth. “Auntie Nee said he needs to get back in the saddle.”

  Tilly laughs loudly, covering her mouth with her hand, and she glances up at me. “Well, I don’t…”

  I shake my head because I’m not ready to crush Tate’s dreams just yet. “We’ll talk about it later, Tate. You have five minutes before dessert.”

  Tate reaches over and grabs Tilly’s hand away from her face, pulling her toward her bike lying on the ground. “Let me show you my bike, Cupcake.”

  “It’s Tilly,” I remind her because she knows better.

  “It’s fine.” Tilly winks. “I kind of like it.”

  I thought I was fucked when I saw her covered in flour, swearing like she could give lessons in profanity. But now…watching Tate walk away hand in hand with another woman, and seeing a genuine smile on Tate’s face for the first time in years, I know I’m double fucked.

  5

  Tilly

  “Are you crying?” Roger walks into the kitchen, catching me wiping the tears away from my face.

  Wine and baking do not mix. After running into Angelo and Tate, I cracked open a bottle and decided it was a splendid idea to drown my sorrows.

  “Grab an apron and stop judging.” I scrape the sides of the mixing bowl as tears stream down my face.

  “Tilly.” He touches my elbow, trying to comfort me, but I’m too far gone, and honestly, too tipsy for anything to get through. “What happened?”

  I turn to face him with the spatula in my hand, dripping with chocolate cupcake batter. This isn’t my finest moment, but it’s raw and real. “I met his kid, Roger.”

  The space between his eyebrows wrinkles. “Whose kid?”

  “Angelo’s, and she’s precious. Completely adorable. You should’ve seen her.”

  My face is doing this weird thing. A cross between a smile and an ugly cry. By the look on Roger’s face, it’s painful to look at and not pretty.

  “That’s nice,” he says, like we’re talking about the weather.

  “Nice?”

  He drops his hand from my elbow and rubs the back of his neck. “Well, yeah. What else should I say?”

  I shake my head and grab my wine, needing just one more sip. I don’t know how to explain all the emotions I’m feeling after meeting Tate and seeing the way Angelo is with her. It’s heartwarming and heartbreaking all at the same time.

  Before I can bring the glass to my lips, Roger tries to snatch the damn thing from my hands, but I twist in the opposite direction. “I think you should slow down.”

  I’m careful not to spill a drop and level him with my glare. “You are not my father.”

  I hate being handled, especially by Roger. While he means well, the last thing I need is for him to tell me what to do or how to feel. I had months of that after Mitchell died. Between the counselors, military wives, and Roger, I had had enough.

  He lifts his hands in the air. “Point taken.”

  “Either join me in a drink, or you know where the door is.” I lift my chin, defiant and petulant as I take a sip.

  Roger grabs the wineglass I set out for him, filling it to the top without even looking at me. “So, tell me about the kid. What has you so…”

  He’s walking on eggshells. He wants to say crazy, but it’s a term he knows will make me come unglued. I’m not insane. I’m emotional.

  Fuck, I’m grieving.

  Anyone who’s been through losing a spouse will know the insanity that follows. Emotions change quicker than the direction of the wind, and there’s no warning before the anger suddenly strikes or the sadness becomes unbearable.

  “I’m feeling so many things.”

  Roger nods but doesn’t speak. He’s learned it’s best to say as little as possible and let me blabber on. It took months for him to realize I just need someone to listen to me.

  “I look at her little face and imagine what it would be like to have a little piece of Mitchell here with me.”

  “Oh,” Roger whispers, deciding it’s time to start drinking the wine he’s holding.

  I begin to pace, kicking off my shoes because my feet are freaking killing me. “Then I think, why would I want to put the sadness I feel in my bones on someone so young and innocent.”

  I chug half the glass before I speak again. “Tate took my hand today and wanted nothing more than to show me her bike. She kept looping her finger through my hair as I bent down to check out the pink paint and her cute little white basket.”

  The tears come a little faster this time because my heart ached from the moment she touched me.
I wanted to wrap her in my arms and never let go. No child should feel the pain of love and loss at such a young age. I was in college when my mother died, and it damn near broke me.

  Roger hops up on the steel table and watches me, staying silent and nodding his head.

  “I don’t know how Angelo does it,” I say and then stop moving, looking over at Roger. “I don’t know how he got this far. How can you grieve and raise two kids?”

  “I don’t know. I remember you wouldn’t even get out of bed for a month, and then…”

  “I know. I felt and smelled like trash.” It wasn’t my proudest moment, but it was all I could do. I wanted to curl up and die, joining Mitchell wherever he was. “I was so in shock, I barely remember that month, honestly.”

  “You were literally a day away from the county mental ward.”

  I stalk across the tile floor in my bare feet and look him straight in the eye. “They never would’ve taken me alive.”

  “That’s why I never called. I wasn’t willing to lose you. Not after losing Mitchell.”

  I can see the pain in his eyes. Sometimes I’m so lost in my grief, I forget he lost his only sibling. He became an only child in a heartbeat, just like I’d become a widow.

  He opens his legs as I move closer. “Why did this happen, Roger?” I place my head in the middle of his chest. “Why?”

  He sets his wineglass next to his legs before prying my glass from my hands. “There’s no reason, Til. Life doesn’t make sense sometimes.”

  I peer up, eyes filled with tears. “I need things to make sense.”

  He touches my chin. “I don’t know if life will ever be normal or that we’ll ever get the answers we want.”

  Five years later and the government is still investigating Mitchell’s missions, trying to figure out what went so terribly wrong. My husband wasn’t the only casualty that day. He was one of five brave SEALs tasked with rescuing American hostages behind enemy lines.

  “Answers won’t change anything,” I whisper and drop my head back against his chest.

  He wraps his arms around my body, rubbing my back. He’s warm and smells amazing, just like his brother used to. “Nothing will take away the sadness. The only thing we can do is go on and try to find a new happiness.”