Page 244 of Saving Her

“We’ll take our time.” He continues driving down the street, past the restaurant, and turns at the corner.

“It’s okay.” I peer over my shoulder, confirming the silver sedan is following us before I sink into my seat. “It wasn’t meant to happen tonight.”

He turns again, taking a side street behind the back of the buildings. We pass small staff parking lots until Luca pulls into one filled with vehicles, Torian’s Porsche parked closest to the few steps leading into the restaurant.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

He stops the Suburban in the last available parking space and cuts the engine. “We’re going to sit here for a while, in case you change your mind.”

“I—” I cut my sentence short, already second-guessing myself.

If only I could see them. Just a glimpse.

Time passes as my indecision intensifies, the clawing temptation making it difficult to think while Luca watches me. Each minute spent under his gaze is a million heartbeats filled with anxiety and hesitation.

I’m not ready to speak to them… I can’t face their questions and tears… I’m not prepared to explain my past…

But I’d give anything to see them.

Anything.

“Are you sure I won’t be seen?” I release my belt. “How will this work?”

“I’ll go in before you. Then you can follow when the coast is clear.”

He’s out of the car and opening my door before I can move. He leads me through the parking lot, my breath frosting the air.

The night is still. Behind us there’s nothing but silence while up ahead is street noise and the sound of people laughing and chatting.

I pause. “Maybe we should go back to the car.”

“I won’t let them see you.”

I sneak a glimpse over my shoulder, the hair at the back of my neck standing on end. The silver sedan is waiting in the shadows on the side street. The darkened face of the man sitting inside stares straight at me.

“He’s keeping an eye on anybody that approaches. And he’s not the only one.”

I nod, only slightly appeased, and continue after him, one slow step after another until Luca is reaching for the back door, pulling it open with a squeak to poke his head inside.

He blocks my view of the interior for pained heartbeats before he sidesteps and allows me entry into a bustling stainless-steel kitchen.

“Come on.” He holds out a hand and drags me inside.

The new noises are overwhelming. The sizzle of hot plates. The clink of saucepans. There are barked orders from a man wearing a chef’s uniform as he scans the four workers situated at different cooking stations.

None of them pay us attention as Luca leads me across the room, this time stopping at a swinging door with a circular peephole.

“Here.” He peers through the opening. “They’re over the far right of the room. Talking to your brother.”

My insides squeeze.

Heart. Chest. Stomach.

I can’t move.

After years of trying to forget the love and support of my parents due to the weakness it brought, I struggle to take the final step.

“Pen?” Luca tugs on my hand. “Come on.”

---