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I put two fingers in my mouth and whistled. “We agreed to bring the pizzeria into the twenty-first century, and maybe we can’t make all the changes we wanted to right away…like busting the wall open, but we can start with a few adjustments to the menu and have some fun with it. What d’ya say?”

Sal frowned. “I hate it.”

“Me too,” Jimmy agreed.

“Sorry, Cuz. I’m with them. Why are we fixin’ something that’s not broken, ya know?” Vanni checked his watch. “Are we done here? I got a date.”

I ignored Vanni and continued. “I found a used kettle online, and it’s a great deal. I propose that I handle the pizza bagels. We’ll do some taste testing and if they’re good, which they will be—we’ll stick ’em on the menu.”

Another three-way glance.

This time Vanni and Jimmy nodded in acquiescence. “Fine, why not?”

A couple of fist bumps later, they headed home or out for the night, leaving me with a suspicious-looking Sal. I pulled the till from the register and took it to the office, unsurprised when he followed me.

“What’s wrong?”

“You tell me, Teo. Seems like a lot of fuss for a small gain. I’m trying to figure out where your head is at,” he replied, crossing his beefy tattooed arms as he leaned against the jamb.

“Healthy competition never hurt anyone.”

“Right,” he drawled, his voice dripping sarcasm. “Why I do I think this is about football, not pizza?”

“Huh?”

“Rob’s the guy who got drafted, played for New York, Dallas, LA. He went to the fucking Super Bowl. Impressive career. And maybe you’re a little bummed it wasn’t you.”

“Fuck you, Sal and good night.” My smile was smarmy at best, but unfortunately, it didn’t encourage him to move on.

Sal’s gaze wandered to the photo on the wall of our dads standing in front of Boardwalk Pizza, arms around each other, shit-eating grins on their faces as if they had the world at their feet.

“Healthy competition is well and good, but sometimes I think you’re in competition with yourself, looking for one play that’s gonna change your life and put you in the win column.”

I fixed him with a blank stare. “What do pizzas and bagels have to do with winning at life?”

“You tell me, Teo. You tell me.”

I didn’t have an answer for that. At least not one that sounded sane.

But damn, I couldn’t help feeling like I needed a win. For my dad, my uncle…my family. The years I’d lost had to mean something. I was aware that was a melodramatic take on what probably amounted to nothing more than an adult temper tantrum. Sue me.

The thought of a former teammate returning to Haverton like a prodigal son and setting up shop next door was so far under my skin, it wasn’t funny.

Or…maybe it was funny and the joke was on me.

ChapterFive

Rob

Great H Bagels opened for business on a cloudy Saturday morning in autumn. The windows were so clean, they sparkled off the glare of the pendant lights over the counter. The glass cases adjacent to the marble counter were stuffed to capacity with a medley of flavored bagels: plain, poppyseed, onion, chocolate, everything—you name it, we had it.

We also offered specialty gourmet creations like the ones we’d served at our preopening party and a “build your own bagel sandwich” option, along with a variety of standard sandwiches ranging from breakfast to turkey, roast beef, chicken salad, and tuna.

Oh yeah, and we had pizza bagels.

I highly doubted we’d sell many, but I had no regrets. Every time I thought of that altercation or whatever the fuck had happened with Mateo in my kitchen, I got hot under the collar. Seriously. I wanted to punch a hole in the wall or punch his freaking gorgeous face.Ugh. As much as I hated to admit it, Mateo was hotter now than he’d been in college. Too bad he was a dick.

Back then, I’d used every superpower in my arsenal not to notice his chiseled features and sexy ass. I noticed now, and it pissed me off. Thus, the pizza bagels…which, by the way, weren’t terrible.

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