“Did you enjoy your meal?” she asks, smiling as she stacks the plates on top of each other.
“It was delicious.”
“You should have Rex cook for you sometime,” she says, laughing when he scoffs at her. “We feel lucky when we can get him in the kitchen.”
I turn toward Rex. “You cook?” I love that he’s blushing for a change.
He shrugs, watching as our waitress walks away. “A little bit.”
“I think that’s great. Who taught you?”
He brings his eyes back to mine. “My mother. She’s a great cook. A true Italian.”
Hearing Rex mention his mother causes my heart to ache. Without thinking too much about it, I say, “My mother was a great cook too.”
And God, does it feel good to say that—to talk about her, even if it’s just the tiniest piece of information. The Blacks didn’t like it when I talked about my parents, and eventually I just stopped. It was easier that way.
I want to tell Rex more, like how she had this song she would sing as she pranced around the kitchen, and how she would let me pour the ingredients into the bowl even though I spilled more than I actually got inside.
“Did she teach you mad cooking skills?” he asks.
I smile wistfully and shake my head, looking down. “No, she didn’t get a chance.”
He doesn’t probe, just waits silently for me to give him more or change the subject. For whatever reason, I decide to give him more.
“She died when I was seven,” I say, looking up.
His face twists in pain, and he reaches for my hand. “I’m sorry to hear that. I couldn’t imagine losing my mom at such a young age. What happened to her?”
“Car accident.” I have vague memories of my dad telling my uncle it wasn’t an accident, and he’d make the other guy pay, but everything after that is a blur.
“You were raised by your father?”
“Umm…” My hands grow damp as I try to dig myself out of this hole. I decide to stay as close to the truth as I can without giving anything away. The truth is he did raise me after my mother’s death. It was only two years, but he did a damn good job. “He did.”
Rex smiles. “It takes a strong man to raise a daughter by himself.”
“Especially one like me,” I say, winking. “I had one hell of a mouth on me growing up, and I knew how to push his buttons.”
Rex grins, shaking his head. He opens his mouth to speak just as the waitress returns. She glances between us before settling her eyes on Rex.
“Your father would like to talk to you for a minute. He’s in the back.”
Rex’s entire demeanor changes. His body tightens. With a flick of a wrist, he yanks the napkin from his lap and slaps it on the table.
“I thought he was out of town,” he says, releasing my hand for the first time.
“He got back this morning.”
“Tell him I’m busy and I’ll call him tomorrow.”
Stella looks uncomfortable. “He said if you don’t come back there, he’ll come out here.”
“Fuck,” Rex hisses, giving me an apologetic look.
“Go talk to your dad,” I tell him. “Do whatever you need to do. I’ll be here when you get back.”
Rex stands. “Stella, would you get Ms. Black a glass of our finest red wine?”