And, there are five of them.
My mom always jokes that it would have been easier to marry into a mafia family than to get the approval of Nonna and my aunts. I believe it though. My dad is the youngest of six and the only son my grandparents had. Even at fifty-seven, he’s still my nonna’s baby. For the most part, my aunts treat my mother no differently than they treat one another.
Which is why I know they’re going to do everything they can to get my mom to spill the beans. I only have one sister. Our bond is like no other, but if Valentina wants information from me? She’s not stopping until she gets it.
At least one of my aunts will find an excuse to come by tonight, and the texts from my cousins will start coming in at any second.
Before the craziness begins, I need to make one more phone call. “Siri, call Archer Halliday.”
As expected, I get sent to voicemail immediately. It’s just after three o’clock, so the chances of the city’s deputy mayor taking a personal phone call are slim to none. Ending the call before there’s a chance to leave a message, I grin when saying, “Siri, call Mayor Halliday.”
Before the second ring, a familiar, bubbly tone answers. “Good afternoon. Deputy Mayor Halliday’s office. How can I help you?”
“Hey, Lucia, it’s Carina,” I say to my best friend’s personal secretary. “Is Archer busy?”
“For you? Never!” She laughs, the fake, professional tone leaving her voice when she hears that it’s just me calling. “Hold on, I’ll let him know you’re on the line.”
There’s a slight silence before an instrumental version of “Hey There Delilah” starts playing. Not even thirty seconds into the song, it stops.
“Hello, this is Deputy Mayor Archer Halliday. How can I help you?”
He knows damn well it’s me on the line. There’s no need for him to announce himself, but as a newly-elected town official, I’ll let him have it. Not for much longer though.
Letting out a small laugh, I say, “I’ll give you another week of answering the phone like that and then I’m going to start giving you shit.”
“Hey, Riff.” He chuckles, calling me half the nickname my mom gave us both collectively when we were growing up. “How’d your meeting go?”
As I’m replaying the day’s events with my best friend, I notice an SUV pulling up behind me. I’ve been on the side of the road for a little while, and I almost expected someone to stop, but my heart drops when I realize it’s a black Escalade.
“Fuck!” I curse, looking up into the rearview mirror. “Pretty sure Richard just pulled up behind me.”
“Where are you?” My best friend’s worried tone isn’t surprising. If there’s anyone who hates Richard more than me, it’s Archer. “I can get a cop car over there in minutes.”
“Look at you, already abusing your power,” I say, forcing out a small laugh. My hands are shaking on the steering wheel as I see the SUV come to a full stop.
I should just put my foot on the gas and drive away. But, if it’s who I think it is, the last thing I want is for him to think I’m running from him. I stopped giving him any power over me the day he abandoned my daughter. Or, at least that’s what he thinks.
The driver’s door of the Escalade opens, my stomach knotting as the brown loafers touch the pavement.
“It’s him,” I confirm to Archer, lowering my voice as if keeping quiet will stop the inevitable.
“Do not hang up the phone,” my best friend demands on the other line.
Pressing the button to roll down my window, I’m greeted with the only person on this earth who has earned my hatred.
“Hello, Richard.” I sigh at the sight of him looking down at me.
Feigning a look of surprise, the bright blue eyes that could once turn me into a puddle of mush lock with mine.
“Carina!” He gasps, acting shocked. “I had no idea it was you. I just saw someone pulled over on the side of the road, wanted to make sure they—well, you—were okay.”
“Right,” I scoff, unable to mask the disbelief in my voice. “Like the big soccer ball decal with your daughter’s name on the back window didn’t give it away.”
“I didn’t notice,” he says, breaking eye contact with me. A good indication that he’s lying. I learned that lesson the hard way. More times than I want to admit. “But, is everything okay? Can I call someone? Give you a ride somewhere?”
As he glances behind me, undoubtedly looking for Lina, I find myself relieved that she’s not in the backseat.
“Everything is fine. I only pulled over because I was on the phone with Archer,” I tell him, pointing to the screen on the dashboard showing our connected call. “I do have to get going though. I have to pick up Lina from my mom’s. She has a soccer game tomorrow at nine, if you want to come and watch her play.”
I don’t know why I bother. He won’t show up. He never does.
“I’ll call you,” he lies. “You’re sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine, Rich—” I begin, being cut off by the sound of my best friend’s voice coming through the speakers.
“And even if she wasn’t, you’re fucking crazy if you think I would sit back and let you help her.”
Rolling his eyes at Archer’s comment, Richard lowers his voice when he says, “I’ll call you, Ri.”
When he uses the nickname that only he’s ever called me, something that used to be so precious and special to me, I feel myself cringing. I’m not that girl anymore. Though, I’m not sure I ever was.
Patting the side of my Jeep twice, he begins to leave. Stopping mid-turn, he looks back and adds, “You look nice, by the way,” before walking back to his SUV.
Rolling up my window, I let out a breath. “He’s gone,” I tell my best friend, waiting silently on the phone.
“Are you okay?”
“Of course I’m okay,” I lie. Archer wouldn’t judge me if I admitted the truth. The lie is more for me than it is for him. “And we have a lot to celebrate tonight. Come to Mom and Dad’s for Giorgio’s after work?”
“I wouldn’t miss it.”
6
Ryan
“What can I do to help?”
After watching Carina do a little happy dance in her Jeep, I know the network made the right choice by choosing her. The look she gave me when she realized I had witnessed her squealing with excitement was the cutest damn thing I’ve ever seen.
Inviting her back to the studio tomorrow was asking for trouble at this point, but as soon as I saw her getting emotional seeing the set, it’s like I saw her for the first time.
This isn’t just about getting famous for her—something I see far too often in this industry. This means more to her than that.
In that moment, her dark brown eyes seemed richer. The blonde tendrils of her hair looked golden. I found myself trying to crack jokes to make her laugh. And when she seemed unsure about the show, I had an innate need to reassure her. Not just because she was the face of the show I’m producing, either. I felt a drive to make this production the best damn show on Food Network.