Page 22 of Forgotten Sacrifice
On the drive home, I try to pinpoint why Sal got to me. The man’s a professional shit-talker, and I typically let his words roll off me like water on a duck’s back.
Typically, except there’s nothingtypicalabout Luna Barone.
I sigh heavily. Luna’s my responsibility, that’s all. I would’ve reacted that way had Sal been talking shit about Aldo.
My brother’s words ring in my ears.Would’ve, should’ve, could’ve.
Passing a bakery, I don’t know what possesses me, but I turn around and pull into the parking lot. Popping inside, I leave with a birthday cake.
I arrive home to find Luna sprawled out on the floor with a notebook in front of her and a pencil in hand, deep in concentration. My eyes land on the skirt she’s wearing that’s far too short, and I dart my attention away from her long legs.
“Mr. Vincenzo,” the tutor greets me with an enthusiastic smile. “Luna’s made some real?—”
“Could you please be quiet? Taking a practice test here,” Luna cuts her off. She finishes reading and pencils in a bubble before closing her booklet. “We can check the answers tomorrow,” she announces, clearly over the tutor.
“I don’t mind staying later,” the tutor says to me.
“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary,” I say politely but firmly.
“Of course.” She fawns. “And Luna, I look forward to day two.”
“Not as much as I do,” Luna parrots in the same sing-song tone, and I have to clear my throat to cover a laugh.
“Let me escort you out,” I say to the tutor, ushering her to the door.
“Oh, Mr. Vincenzo, such gentlemanly manners.”
Lady, get the fuck out, because if Luna doesn’t kill your annoying ass, I might.“See you tomorrow,” I say, closing the door in her face and locking it.
I turn to Luna. “Come eat.”
“What happened to those gentlemanly manners, Mr. Vincenzo?” Luna bats her eyes, mimicking the tutor.
“You don’t want the best burger in town?” The recipe I perfected myself.
Luna looks like she wants to say no out of pure stubbornness, but she starts to the kitchen.
“Good girl.” The words slip out of my mouth.
Luna
Not knowing how to respond, I silently sit down as Vince busies himself with plating burgers and fries.
Good girl.
I’ve never been called a combination of those two words, and I’m confused as to why I’m fighting the need to squeeze my legs together.
Vince presents me with my plate before he takes a seat across from me. “Thanks,” I mutter, grabbing the burger with both hands. There’s no dainty way to do this, and so I dive right in. “What?” I ask Vince, who’s staring.
“Nothing,” he says, taking a bite of his burger.
“This is so good,” I say around a mouthful of greasy deliciousness. “Where’s it from?”
“My brother’s bar.”
“Brother?” I pounce. “What’s his name? Which bar? How old is he? Are you close?”
“None of your business. None of your business. None of your business. None of your business.”
