Chapter 162: Comfort Food
- LUCIANO -
"I’m stopping by your house today," I tell Dex over the phone.
I know he’s at work. Besides the fact that I have someone watching his house, I have his schedule memorized now. Not that it’s difficult. Dex is about as boring as they come. Anyone would know he’s got a woman at home who he is eager to get back to with how mundane his life appears from the outside. He goes to work and comes back home. There is very little variety.
The old Luciano would laugh and give Dex shit about being pussy-whipped or something, but for once I’m finding myself jealous. He has a woman at home. Actually, he has two women at home, and as grateful as I am that Rory is with someone I trust, I also kind of want to hate him a little for it. Dex goes home to Raya, but he gets to see Rory.
"Luci..." Dex groans on the other end of the call, but he doesn’t say anything else. He wants to. It’s a loaded groan, but I’m glad Dex knows to not try dissuading me from stopping by.
I’m not asking for permission. I’m just being respectful by telling him first. There is a feral animal pacing under my skin, and if I don’t do something to settle it down, I’m going to lose my mind and hurt people who don’t deserve it.
"Take her food," Dex adds unprompted.
"What?"
"Enough with the fucking flowers, Luci. Take her some damn food."
I can hear him typing on the other end, so he must be busy.
"Do you think that will work?"
Jesus, am I really asking Dex for advice on women? I’ve never asked anyone for advice on women... or at least not since I was thirteen. Maybe it was even younger than that.
Then again, Rory isn’t women plural. She is just one, and she’s the only one that matters now. She also happens to be particularly stubborn and difficult, so a little help is probably what I need.
"It can’t hurt at this point, can it? She wasn’t eating well for the first several days after you found her, but now... food can be very comforting. She’s also a food critic or something. Look her up, and I bet you’ll get some ideas of what she likes."
I’m shocked that I haven’t already thought of this, and now I have a bit of hope to cling to. Maybe food is the answer, especially if that’s what she’s passionate about.
"Thanks, man."
"Yep. I gotta go," Dex says, and then he hangs up without even bothering to say goodbye. Dick.
"So food is her thing," I repeat to myself, staring at my phone. I can identify with that—of course I can. I love food, and even without checking what she’s written about, I think I have just the thing. If she loves food, she’ll love this.
This is going to be a better day. I’m going to get a chance to talk to her. I can feel it.
——————
After parking in Dex’s driveway, I grab the take out bag from the passenger seat of my Mercedes S-Class. I ditched the Navigator for the day. It’s too big. It feels too much like work with all that interior room and window tint. And there is a sense of foreboding to it now that I don’t want associated with seeing Rory. Too much bad shit happens when I’m driving the Navi, and today is not a bad shit kind of day.
Before ringing the doorbell, I take a deep breath and look down at my shoes. I tried to look as dressed down as I could. No one is going to catch me dressing like Dex, but I’m wearing jeans and a plain black t-shirt. I didn’t do anything special to my hair, and it’s a little wild from driving with the windows down.
I feel like a bum, and on top of that my heart is beating erratically. This is... not me. At all.
After raking a hand through my hair for it to only flop wildly back over my eyes, I finally ring the doorbell. This is it. I’m going to see her. I’m going to see Rory. Hopefully.
Raya opens the door, her eyes widening when they land on me. Instead of offering any form of greeting, she glances inside the house and then back at me like she’s weighing something and trying to make a silent decision about how to proceed.
"You didn’t even look at the camera before you answered the door?" Judging by her reaction, I’m right. "Why did I even have this system installed if you’re not going to take advantage of it? Don’t you value you and your sister’s safety as much as the men in your life?"
Her lips turn up into a crooked smile, and she opens the door wider. "Come on in, Luciano. It’s nice to see you, too."
Instead of returning the comment, I grumble as I walk in the house. Why the hell didn’t she check to see who was at the door before opening it?
"You brought food," she says, again appearing surprised.
"Uh, yeah. I was getting some for myself and thought maybe the two of you would, you know..." I lift the bag.
"Want some?" She finishes for me.
"Right," I shrug.
Raya smiles warmly and squeezes my arm, and my erratic heart calms a little. It’s impossible not to like Raya. She just exudes warmth. She reminds me of my mother in that way.
"Rory is sitting out by the pool. Come on," she says quietly like there are others who might overhear.
She leads the way through the living room, and I stand there for a moment, allowing a few more seconds for apprehension to rise before I swallow it down and follow her.
Rory might be pissed I’m here. She might ask me to leave. That’s okay. I’m prepared for it. At least, I think I’m prepared for it.
Now I’m remembering the calls and texts that went unanswered those first few days until she finally told me to leave her alone. And I have. I have done as she asked. It’s been hard, but I honored her wishes... well, aside from the flowers. Hopefully by not contacting her directly though, I have won a little favor. You know, since rescuing her that day apparently wasn’t enough.
The bite of bitterness to my thoughts completely evaporates when I walk out into the backyard and see her on a chair. She’s huddled with her legs pulled up against her chest and a blanket wrapped around her, staring absently out into the garden. She looks like she’s trying to make herself small, and I’m struck with a deep ache at the sight. All my previous thoughts and worries lift and scatter with the restless fall air.
Raya sighs softly next to me. I forgot she was even here.
"I’ll let you talk alone," she says quietly. "I’m in the dining room if she needs me."
Rory hasn’t taken notice that anyone has come out here yet. Her attention is fixed in the other direction. Instead of just standing here staring at her like yet another creep, I walk to her side and her eyes finally register the presence of someone and shift my way.
As soon as those stormy blue irises lock on me, I feel it like a bolt of lightning. And I see something in her eyes that I wasn’t expecting. I see relief.
Deep relief floods me, too, and I exhale slowly. "I brought food."
Her gaze flicks down to the bag in my hand as the breeze whirls her hair around and dark tendrils catch and shift across her face. She doesn’t lift a hand to move them as if she is content to let the air have its way.
I have this instinctive and immediate impulse to embrace her, to feel her against me and be reassured by touch that she is okay. But I don’t do it. Instead, I walk to the other side of the small table that is next to her and put the bag down.
"Gave up on the flowers?" She asks, shaking her head a little so her hair will rearrange itself.
I chuckle. "I didn’t say that."
I remove all the cartons and arrange them on the table, only glancing at her briefly when I feel the weight of her stare.
"Angelini’s?" She asks finally. It’s flat with very little emotion, but she’s not angry. So that’s something.
"Yeah, he’s a friend of mine." I shrug like it’s no big deal but can’t help the small smile that crawls across my face.
Angelini’s is a highly acclaimed Italian restaurant in the city. If Rory is a food critic, she has to know it and at least be a little impressed. It’s hard to get a table there during the week much less on the weekend, and he doesn’t do takeout. But what can I say? Gino is a very good friend.
Rory sighs and reluctantly stands from where she’s seated. My heart does a little fearful leap.
"Are you leaving?" I ask, unable to mask the disappointment in my voice.
"Leaving Angelini’s? No," she says. "But we can’t eat it out of boxes, can we? I’ll get some plates and silverware."
When she turns to head toward the house, I grin so big it feels like I’m a kid who just... I don’t even know. Met his favorite superhero.
I’d offer to get the plates for her, but I don’t want to overdo it. Rory is stubborn and fiery and fiercely independent—I know this. The fact that she’s going to eat with me without complaint is already a win. I’m not going to piss her off by treating her like she’s so helpless that she needs a man to carry plates for her.
"God bless you, Dex," I whisper to myself. "And God bless Angelini’s."
