Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 101622 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101622 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
She finishes a bite, and replies, “Owning a restaurant means no rest for the weary.” Her smile shines like the words don’t fit the expression. “We wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Her father says, “We love this place. It’s the sixth member of the family.”
Delaney’s hand rests on my bicep. “Bayetti’s is closed on Mondays, but Sunday dinners are a tradition. On Mondays, we always ate out.” The family laughs together. I’m not sure I ever experienced that growing up. Not even as an adult. My parents were married, but they considered themselves divorced. My dad lived in the Financial District so he could walk to work. My mom stayed uptown on the Upper East Side to avoid my dad at all costs. Run-ins only happened when they needed to make an appearance as Mr. and Mrs. Landers. Otherwise, they lived two different lives, with me caught in the middle.
Joe says, “We’re ready for something else.”
“And not to cook,” adds Pamela. “You’re not eating, Warner.”
I pick up my fork and spoon and start on the pasta first. The sauce is good, reminding me of a home I’d see in the movies, more real than mine. “This is really good, Pamela.”
“Mom.”
“Mom,” I reply, finding it easier to say than I would have predicted. Delaney sets her fork down after finishing a few meatballs and a good portion of her spaghetti, the speed eater that she is, and then leans her head on my shoulder. It’s not in the soft smile on her face, but the happiness reflected in her eyes that catches my heart off guard.
She’s incredible at my place, but seeing her now, this side of her that’s authentic to who she is on the inside . . . is spectacular. Remembering how she looked when I made her come in the tub and the confidence that glistened on her skin as she sat on top of me, taking what she wanted and what she needed, makes me privileged once again to see her now. Such innocence, in contrast, is truly breathtaking.
“What’s it like to have amnesia?” Lorenzo asks just prior to shoveling a bite of food into his mouth. I see why she eats so fast now. They all do.
“I’ve not had it before, and if I have, I don’t remember.”
Sass bursts out laughing even though no one else does. “Come on, that was funny. He landed an amnesia joke like a pro.” She pats my leg. “I like your joke, babe.”
Babe?
God, I fucking love this woman. Well, not love love but . . . oh shit. Do I love love Delaney? My throat feels tight, my chest hot like I need fresh air. I chug more wine to put out the fire, but when the glass is empty, that pesky four-letter word remains.
I love her.
With my elbow propped on the table, I drop my head onto the palm of my hand. What the fuck? Love? Really, Landers? The woman is unhinged, and that’s who you decided to fucking fall for?
“Are you okay, Warner?” she asks, rubbing my back.
Lifting my head, I try to take the curiosity off me while I wrestle with the fact that I’m in love with their daughter, their sister, their cannoli, and Delly bean. I reply, “The doctor said amnesia is unpredictable. One minute, everything is gone, erased from your mind. Then bam! It can return in a flood of memories. Or not. I’m just hoping for the best.”
They all look a bit stunned, other than Delaney, who leans over and whispers, “You’re looking a bit pale. Maybe this was too much with your concussion. We should go.”
“Can I get this to go?”
She laughs. “Yes, we can get it to go.”
Joe says, “I’ll get a to-go box.”
“Don’t forget the cookies,” Pamela adds before he’s out of earshot.
I look at my girl, and whisper, “I lasted forty-five minutes. Not so bad.”
“Longer than I expected you to last.”
Slipping out of the booth, Delaney is hot on my tail and standing before I can turn around. She takes a bag from Joe and gives him a quick hug. Kneeling back into the booth, she hugs her mom and reaches across the table to hold hands with Anthony and bridge the divide. She flicks Lorenzo on the shoulder, and says, “Stay cool, kid.”
I say, “Thank you for dinner and for having me be a part of your tradition.”
Pamela smiles, and says, “Hopefully, we’ll see you again, Warner.”
I’ve got to hand it to Delaney. She didn’t prepare them for my arrival. She let it play out naturally. They punched holes in a couple of her stories, but I’m going to let that slide because I have bigger issues to deal with—mainly that I’m in love with her.
CHAPTER 22
Delaney
“What kind of cookies are these?” Warner’s question travels the length of the hallway and into the bedroom where I’m slipping into something comfy.