Page 42 of Forever Enough
“You like it?”
Swallowing, I nodded as I wiped my mouth. “Okay, the sauce, or gravy as you call it, is the most amazing sauce I’ve ever had, Kenzie. My mother is going to need the recipe, I’m telling you right now.”
She nodded in excitement.
“And the addition of the cheese, I have to say…I like it. A lot.”
A wide smile broke out across her beautiful face. “I’m so glad! Everyone looks at me like I’m crazy when I put it on my spaghetti. My sister’s the only other person who loves it this way.”
“Well, now you can add me to the list.”
We ate for a few moments in silence before I asked her if she’d ever been to Italy before.
“No. I’d love to go someday. My father’s mother, my grandmother, was from a town on Lake Garda. It was called Riva del Garda. It looks like a beautiful place from the photos we have of her growing up there. Plus, I follow a page on Instagram. It snowed in the town Grams was from and it looked so romantic.” She smiled and seemed to get lost in a memory before focusing back on me. “Have you been?”
I shook my head and swallowed the bite of roll I’d been chewing. “Never been. I’ve been to France once. Went with my parents to visit Avery. It’s a beautiful country, but I wasn’t a fan of Paris. Too busy and crowded.”
“I bet. I haven’t ever left the country. Not even to go to Canada.”
A part of me wanted to tell her to pack a bag and whisk her away to Italy to visit her grandmother’s hometown. I could do it tomorrow if I wanted to. I had plenty of money in the bank. That was one thing about me; I never spent my money. I had nothing, or no one, to spend it on.
“Did your dad ever go to Italy?”
“He wanted to,” she said softly. “He passed away when I was twelve. My mother ended up marrying his best friend not long after he died. I can’t stand my stepfather. He’s the main reason why I left Georgia. That, and the fact that my mother never stood up to him when…” Her voice trailed off.
“When he what?”
She forced a smile. “Nothing. He was just an asshole, and I’m glad to be far, far away from him and my mother.”
A feeling of sadness washed over me. I couldn’t even imagine not wanting to be near my mother. “So you’re only in contact with your sister?”
She nodded. “Yes. If I could erase the time I spent living under the same roof as my stepfather, I would do it in a heartbeat.”
I could hear the anger and hurt in her voice. “Did he mistreat you?”
Her fork came to an abrupt stop at her mouth and her entire body tensed.
I held up my hand. “Never mind. I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”
Her eyes met mine, and when I saw tears building, I wanted to physically hurt a man I didn’t know. “It’s okay. I wasn’t prepared for you to ask that, and I…I don’t ever talk about it.”
I reached across the table for her hand. “Hey,” I softly whispered. “Let’s talk about something different, then. Like…do you have vanilla ice cream for the apple pie?”
Relief flooded her features before she laughed. It was a beautiful thing to hear and to see. “I do, as a matter of fact. I’m a sucker for ice cream, so I always have it on hand.”
“My kind of girl.”
We took a few more bites in silence before Kenzie spoke. “Bull riding.”
“Farming. Are we playing a word game?”
Her cheeks blushed as she giggled. “How long can you do something like that? I imagine it takes a toll on your body.”
Nodding, I replied, “It does for sure. There are some guys in their thirties who ride, but most of them retire around then. Some earlier if they’re forced to.”
“Forced to?”
“Injury that keeps them from riding anymore.”