Page 100 of Huckleberry Hill
“Is there a reason you called?” I asked.
He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I was just—I’m making out the server schedule for when we open again and I was wondering about your availability.”
“Ah,” I said. “Because I’m not in Italy.”
There was some shuffling of papers in the background and then I heard the sound of a shutting door.
“Gianni hasn’t said much,” Nico stated. “I mean, he told the family you guys ended things and that he was going to Italy alone, but that was all.”
Well, at least he hadn’t aired our dirty laundry. I could thank him for that at least.
“I like you, Hadley. You’re a good server and I’m sorry shit didn’t work out with Gianni. I just wanted you to know that. And you can have whatever shifts you want. I’ll make it happen.”
The idea of returning to Gianni’s family restaurant and seeing my co-workers gossip behind my back—to see Gianni’s cousins and sisters, hell to even see Gianni himself, was not something I was going to subject myself to.
“I quit,” I said.
Nico sighed. “Yeah, I had a feeling it would come to that. I don’t blame you. If you want, I can make a few phone calls. I know people. I can get you another serving job if you’re interested.”
“Why, because you feel bad?” I asked with a wry snort.
“Yeah, I feel bad. But like I said, you’re good at what you do. You shouldn’t not have a job because my cousin is a dick. You were really good to him. You were a part of the family.”
My throat thickened. I’d mourned Gianni and the life we were supposed to share together. I hadn’t thought about everything else I was losing. His big, amazing, nosy Italian family.
“Don’t call around,” I said. “I’m not sure when I’m coming back to New York.”
“Back to New York?” he repeated in confusion. “What do you mean back to New York? Where are you?”
“I came home for a visit.”
The front door of the cabin opened, and my spine tensed.
“Thanks for calling.” I hung up and shoved my cell phone back into my pocket. I didn’t turn around, choosing instead to grip the wooden porch rail until my knuckles turned white.
Declan sidled up next to me. The scent of lanolin and tea tree oil wafted toward me.
“No trace of cow dung,” I said, forcing a smile and looking at him. His hair was damp and his five o’clock shadow looked more like three-day stubble.
His brow furrowed as he adjusted the collar of his flannel shirt. “You okay?”
I shrugged.
“You want to talk about it?”
I bit my lip. “It’ll ruin our date.”
“Not possible.”
I wanted to tell him, but it wasn’t fair to dump all my feelings onto him. Especially when it was about another man—a man I’d been planning on sharing my life with.
He went back inside for a moment, but quickly returned, carrying a pair of clean boots and socks. Declan took a seat on the porch steps and pulled them on.
“Come on,” he said, rising, holding out his hand.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“We’re going for a ride.”
