Page 82 of Honeyed

The world could be falling on our heads, the bad guys could be closing in, and I know we’ll never be separated.

That both terrifies and thrills me with the looming threat I feel on the horizon.

34

ALANA

Two weeks pass with nothing crazy to report or follow up on.

Cass’s private investigator is doing his thing, Warren and I are crazy busy with Lily in a mid-summer tourist rush, and my parents and siblings are busy with the restaurant. At least my marketing tasks have taken a back seat; during the summer, it’s easy to get people in for meals or taking out food. What’s the easiest thing to do after a sun-kissed, exhausting day on the shores of the lake or in a boat? Grab a pizza. It’s an age-old tradition. So, aside from our specials or weekly family night announcements, I don’t have to do much more than schedule social media posts and plan a few media interviews scattered throughout the summer months.

Lily has become my biggest project, from coordinating new product drops with our vendors, to stocking orders, to rearranging the displays to keep everything fresh. The marketing efforts of promoting a new business are a heavy lift, and I’ve been growing our socials in a steady manner that I hope is helping us bring in revenue. Every day Warren and I are learning more about owning and operating a business in a way we never got to experience with Hope Pizza. This thing is truly ours alone, and it’s only made us closer as a couple.

After him trying to break us apart and briefly trying to manipulate me into divorcing him, we’re stronger than ever. Warren has not had many people in his life who loved him unconditionally through the worst of times, and I saw it in that moment when he tried to sacrifice his own heart to save me. Or so he thought that was what he was doing.

Being able to show him that I’m not going anywhere, outright refusing to leave even if he locked me out, has proven that our love is stronger than anything thrown at us. We’re moving away from the honeymoon stage of our marriage to being real and not a fake contracted thing anymore, to the part where real love thrives. Where contentment and companionship rule all. Of course, the sex is still insane, and he blows me away every time he walks into a room, but even after years of deep friendship, this stage in our relationship is different and exciting while settling us into something long-term.

After a couple weeks of no surprise drop-ins from Mason Klein, no news from the cops, and our regularly scheduled programming, Warren is a little more agreeable to let me out of his sight. He’s been like a leech pressed to my side, checking in at all times or sending someone to shadow me if he can’t be there. I understand how nervous he is about this whole thing, seeing as what happened to Cassandra last year, but with each passing day, I think we’re out of the woods.

Which is why I’m here to help Nonna with her dessert prep for the week while the restaurant is quiet this morning. It’s still early, before the lunch rush, and my grandmother just left to go home and take a rest. She spent from dawn until now, around ten a.m., up to her elbows in flour with me. While I’m not the cook of the family by far, I’ve always liked assisting my grandmother with the baking. Today we made a ton of rainbow cookies together as she told me the funniest anniversary gifts my grandfather ever gave her.

Now I’m sitting enjoying one of those cookies with a cup of cappuccino Evan made for Patrick, who is in the back working a half day. When he came in to do lunch prep, the cinnamon and brown sugar he added made it a perfect combination. I enjoy slow, solitary mornings like this, even if I crave the energy my family brings around. It’s nice to just sit in a place where decades of traditions seep into my bones and sip my coffee.

Then the bell over the entrance jingles, and I sigh, knowing that my solitude is probably over for the day. My sister-in-law comes through the front door as fast as her belly will allow. She’s due any day now, and I’m confused about her showing up here; Patrick is going to have a field day she isn’t on his prescribed bed rest.

“Are you okay? What’re you doing here?” A lightbulb goes off that she might be in labor and drove here to get my brother.

“I’m okay.” She nervously chews her lip as she pulls out the chair beside me.

I scramble up, helping her get seated, then search her face. “Is it the baby? You want me to get Patrick?”

My heart is suddenly racing with the idea I’m about to become an aunt for the first time.

“No, no, nothing like that. This little girl is still cooking, she seems as stubborn as her father and I have a feeling we won’t see her for a week.” Cass rolls her eyes. “No, I came to talk to you. I got some information back from my PI.”

And that has my stomach dropping like I’m on some world-class coaster. “Oh, okay. Um … fuck, I didn’t want there to be anything to find.”

The longer we went without any news, I thought maybe there just wasn’t anything to find. I almost convinced myself that Mason Klein is just a scummy Hollywood type who wouldn’t take no for an answer. The concern on my sister-in-law’s face tells me otherwise, that we do actually have something to worry about.

“I’m sorry, Al. I didn’t want there to be either, but it’s a lot and I … you both need to know urgently. Should I get Warren down here?”

I shake my head. “He’s at Lily by himself. Plus, if it’s as bad as you say, maybe filter it through me first and I can deliver the hard news. Shit, I hate this. With everything he’s already been through in his life, why does there have to be more?”

Cass gives me a sad smile. “I hate it for him, too. Sometimes the hard stuff happens to us so the good can come. But this? This is dark. Ugh, I don’t even want to talk about it, but you all need to know this.”

I steady myself internally before she starts.

She pulls out her phone, pulls up an email, and then starts talking me through what he found.

“So yes, Mason Klein is a documentary filmmaker, and he has a few titles under his belt. None of them took off, and the studios that produced them haven’t ever worked with him again. To me, as someone who used to be in that industry, that’s kind of a red flag.”

I nod, trying to follow her without letting my emotions cloud my mind.

“He went to school for it, has a degree in videography and cinema, and seemed like he was on the straight and narrow for a time. But recently, more like the last five years or so, something changed.” Cass eyes me warily. “My private investigator found out what.”

“Mason Klein grew up in Pennsylvania, a few hours away from here. His family was the typical suburban one, only child of a teacher and a mortgage lender, vacations to the beach, Christmas church goers. Until he was nine … when his father murdered his mother.”

The gasp that rips from my throat feels almost out-of-body. Puzzle pieces begin to click into place as Cass continues.

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