Page 77 of Honeyed
Air deflates from my lungs like he just popped a balloon. “There is nothing to talk about because I’m not doing it.”
“And I don’t think you should. But this guy Mason won’t stop sniffing around. You know he came into Hope Pizza a few weeks back and questioned whether Leona and I would be a part of it?”
Shock, fury, fear, and a number of other things paralyze my chest. “What?”
Thomas nods emphatically. “Yes. We sent him packing straight away, but this guy seems … off. No one else accompanies him, there is no production manager or anyone following up to try to get us on board, or an agency associated with the project. At least that’s what Cass said, and she knows what the order of these things should be. I think you need to be more careful.”
Rage burns deep inside my gut. “I haven’t done a thing to incite him, and yet he won’t stop. Part of me thinks my father has something more to do with this than we think, but I don’t want to look deeper to find out.”
“He knows who Alana is, this director. That isn’t a coincidence. He’s been looking too much into your life and it’s … frankly, it’s setting off all kinds of alarm bells in my head. This is my daughter, this is my son-in-law who I have always tried to protect from the crime junkies who take things too far. This Mason guy seems like one of them.”
“What else can I do though? Alana thought if we ignored him, he’d go away.” Unease settles like a weight in my chest.
“And maybe he will. But he’s sniffing around too much for my liking. One more incident and promise you’ll let Cass call the private investigator?”
The trees overhead sway in the summer breeze, and it feels like nothing can touch us here. Maybe I should move Alana in, shut her up in my castle like some fairy tale so no one can harm her.
But that’s not reality. “I promise.”
And everything in me prays to the universe that this threat never makes good and we can all move on without anything going sideways.
32
ALANA
The pizzeria has always been a place of warmth, happiness, community, and damn good food.
But tonight, that’s amplified tenfold. All the preparation, hard work, and scuffles with my family about this event have paid off, considering the incredible turnout and dull roar of conversation within this building. Our friends, extended family, colleagues, local board members, former teachers, old coaches, and everyone in between have come out for Hope Pizza’s seventy-fifth-anniversary party.
All the food is free, a feat that Patrick had a hard time agreeing to but one I insisted on. Mom, Liam, and Evan thought it was a genius idea too, because it will only reinforce how delicious our menu is and convince people who don’t dine with us regularly to start coming more often. Plus, this night is a chance to give back to the town that has welcomed our family and has kept the lights on for all these decades.
The place is hopping, with a local DJ we love spinning old-school Sinatra and Italian artists Nonna loves. Evan and Dad keep bringing out piping hot pizzas and pastas while Mom mans the cold food buffet offering a range of seafood and antipasti. Cass hired an event designer for tonight on her own dime, and they’ve turned the charcuterie table into a work of art, not to mention the entire restaurant. A photo booth with different food props and signs has been set up, along with a memory-making Polaroid table where people can snap themselves and then write their favorite dish from the restaurant over the years.
Local newspapers and media personnel have come out to report on it and enjoy the offerings, and we worked hard to make five hundred gift packages of our dough and sauce for people to take home and create their own little pizza. Warren is waiting tables, Liam has a booth set up selling our sauce, and Nonna is doing to-order dessert preparations and talking everyone’s ear off. The family is all hands on deck tonight.
More than that, though, my heart feels light as a feather and soaring. Adrenaline, love, giddy happiness, and a bit of delirium from the lack of sleep this week combine for a heady mix. I’m in the place I love most, with the people I love most, doing what we do best.
Things since the blowout at the restaurant with Warren and my dad have been better. All three of us have had separate conversations, and I’m pretty sure my mother put him in the doghouse over it, and while tension isn’t completely erased, we’re getting there. Family is everything, after all, and it’s not like this is going to put an end to the love we all share.
Especially not Warren and me. If anything, we’ve become infinitely closer after my father’s words and my husband’s confession. He said the thing I’d needed to hear all along; that he’s loved me from the start, even if he wouldn’t let himself. Both he and I had been pushing our feelings so far down, refusing to be the one to get hurt and take the risk, hoping that our friendship wouldn’t be damaged by much stronger feelings.
The love we share, though, only makes everything better. I’m married to my best friend, the boy who held my hand through our hardest moments growing up, and the man I find irresistible and ridiculously kind all rolled into one.
Yes, a request out of our control is the thing that tipped the pendulum, and I guess I have Arthur to thank for our marriage. We’re the two making it work, though, and waking up to do life with him every single day is something I still can’t believe I get to do.
“You look gorgeous.”
Speak of the devil. I hear that deep voice in my ear as he comes up to hold my waist while I fill drinks from the fountain.
“You said that this morning.” Jutting my butt out a little, I graze against him.
Warren’s voice is tighter when he responds. “In the shower, I know. I had you pinned against the wall, the water dripping down your nipp—”
“Oh my God!” I squeal, not usually one to be embarrassed. “Control yourself, there are about three hundred people just on the other side of this half wall.
A low chuckle makes sparks shoot down my spine. “It’s this apron and the pencil behind your ear, they’re doing something to me. You look like you did when we’d wait tables here as teenagers. Damn, I had so many fantasies of getting you alone in the kitchen and making out while your father wasn’t looking.”
That does sound enticing …