Page 20 of Until August
Scarlett was small and petite, a good six inches shorter than me, but her heart was big, and her hugs were world-class. “I know, babe. I know you do. I miss him too. We all do. But I’m worried about you.” She released me and held me at arm's length, her big blue eyes studying my face. “You’re allowed to laugh and smile. You’re allowed to be happy. He would have wanted you to—”
I cut her off before she could finish her sentence. “Stop. Please. Just don’t, okay?” If I had to hear,He would have wanted you to be happy,orHe would have wanted you to move onone more time, I was going to scream. “I’m still married, remember?”
“I know. I’m being selfish. I just miss my best friend.”
“I’m right here.”
Her sad smile told me she didn’t believe it any more than I did.
The old Nicola used to grab life with both hands and laugh until it hurt. The old Nicola had a passion for food and wine and life. But lately, just getting out of bed was a struggle, and not even cooking brought me the same joy it used to.
Food is love, my father always told me. After I shared my bad review with him the other day, he said, “When you cook, you have to put your whole heart and soul into it. If you don’t, the customers will know. Because the food will suffer.”
And maybe that was the problem. I was too busy playing it safe. Too scared to put my heart on the line again.
I let out a shuddering breath. “I have to get to work.”
“Okay. I love you.” Scarlett took my hands in hers and squeezed them. “I’m here for you whenever you need me.”
“I know. I love you too.”
She walked me to the front door. “Call the Pistachio Guy. Give him a shot. And who knows… he might be exactly what you need.”
“Scarlett,” I warned.
“For the restaurant. I was talking about the restaurant.” Her baby blues widened, the picture of innocence. But she didn’t fool me for a minute.
A few weeks ago, when I stopped by to visit the twins, her divorced neighbor just happened to be there. I knew she was trying to fix us up and couldn’t believe she’d stoop so low.
“Hey, Nic.” I looked over at her standing in the doorway, with the sunlight on her face. “You said he lost everything, right?”
“That’s what he said. I don’t really know his story.”
“And he doesn't know yours. But what if you could be the person who helps him turn his life around?”
I shook my head and walked away.
“Karma, Nic,” she called. “Think of all the good karma that will be coming your way. Everyone deserves a second chance.”
* * *
I had a million things to do this morning. A ton of paperwork. Suppliers to call. Deliveries to sort through and put away. I had to re-engineer my menu because some of it wasn’t working.
But what was I doing? Sitting on the terrace watching the surfers down by the pier. It was too far away to make out their faces, but I was sure one of them was Shane Wilder.
He was the poster boy for guys who deserved a second chance. Years ago, he’d lost everything and had to rebuild his life. Now he had a thriving business, a beautiful wife, and two great kids. Sometimes dreams come true. And sometimes, if you have the means, you have to help others make their dreams come true.
That was what Cruz had done for me. He’d invested in my restaurant without any guarantee it would yield a profit. And now I was able to help someone else.
I pulled out my phone and chewed on my lip. This was a terrible idea. The absolute worst.
Without giving myself a chance to overthink it, I swiped the screen because I wasn’t always known for making the smartest decisions. Then I held my breath and waited for him to pick up. Part of me hoped he wouldn’t.
August answered on the third ring. “Hello?”
He sounded hesitant, and then I remembered that I had his number, but he didn’t have mine. “Hey. It’s Nic. Nicola.”
“How’s it going?”
