The man waits patiently for Miller to finish, and I do my best to avoid making eye contact with him. I thought maybe I would catch a glimpse of him, not be gawked at for minutes on end.
“Here you go.” Miller sets the cinnamon shaker next to my steaming cup.
“That’s how I take mine,” the man says with a grin, stepping forward.
My pulse thuds loudly in my ears, and I do everything I can to stay firmly in place and not turn and run out of here. I never meant to garnerthis muchattention from the guy I came here in search of.
I note the way his lips turn up: the same exact way Johnny’s do when he’s trying to hide his smile. The similarities between the two of them are eerie, confirming my suspicions of whether or not the results of the ancestry kit were accurate.
“Yeah?” I finally say.
“Mmhm. Adds just the right amount of flare without being too much.” He points to the glass case of sweets. “Could I offer you something to go with your coffee? A muffin, maybe?”
I eye the case but shake my head. “No, thank you though, I appreciate it.”
“I insist.” He turns to Miller. “Bag up a blueberry old-fashioned for the lady.” He winks at me. “I saw the way you hesitated.” He takes the thing from Miller and sets it on the counter by my cup. “It’s my favorite, too.”
I dig my teeth into the inside of my lip to ground myself from losing control. Never could I have ever imaginedthisis how this entire interaction would go.
The man who looks just like an older version of the love of my life extends his hand. “Luciano.”
I wipe my clammy palm on my pants and take his in mine. “Claire.” It’s not until the word slips from my lips that I realize I probably should have used a fake one. Now I’ve given him a piece of me that I can never take back.
Johnny is going to be so fucking mad when he finds out. And I don’t blame him one bit.
This is stupid, completely foolish and irresponsible.
“Claire,” Luciano repeats. “What a lovely name.”
But there’s something laced in his tone, something dangerous that sends a chill dancing up my spine.
His grip is firm but gentle, his hand consuming mine almost completely. “I’ll leave you to it.” Luciano nods toward my steaming cup and turns toward Miller. “There’s a shipment in the back I could use your assistance with.”
Miller makes eye contact with me and points across the room. “Sorcha can help with anything else.”
“Thanks.”
The two of them disappear, the door swishing in their wake.
And I’m left here, processing what the fuck just happened.
I came here to see for myself. To see if that man who showed up on Johnny’s results was actually his father. To see if he was in fact, the crime boss that the internet claims he is.
I’m not sure what I expected, really. But for him to be so…charismatic…that was a surprise. There were layers of Johnny woven throughout him—in his mannerisms and even the sly twinkle in his eye. There is no denying that this man is his father.
But now, what do I do with that information?
He seems like a decent guy. Someone Johnny might not hate. He’s the owner of a quaint corner coffee shop. Similar to his found father figure back home. Although, there’s still the very real possibility that he’s involved in illegal activities. And I guess that’s what I have to figure out. Johnny is finally getting clear of that type of stuff; I won’t be the reason he can’t escape that lifestyle. He deserves to be free of the shit that wrecked the past year of his life and nearly killed him.
Plus, if he really is Johnny’s biological father, he has some explaining to do on where he’s been the past twenty years.
I take a sip of my coffee, savoring the bitter taste. If anything, the guy serves a decent cup of joe, giving him at least one brownie point.
I pull my phone out of my pocket, surprised when I don’t have any notifications. Usually, Johnny would have followed up by now, but maybe he’s busy with something else. I send him a text anyway in an attempt to calm his nerves in case he’s trying to give me space.
He’s done such a great job at balancing the strangeness of our situation. It’s been hard on him, trying to play pretend that everything is fine, but he’s gone out of his way to make things as normal as possible despite the raging nerves he deals with daily. He’s still worried Franklin will come after him even though it’s been months and nothing has happened.
At this point, the biggest concern should be whether or not the poison will show up on Griffin’s autopsy.