“Owning a business is a lot of responsibility,” Tony points out gently.
“I know it is. As Martina can tell you, I already have a business of my own. I started it from just an idea. I know this is not going to be easy, and I would not even be thinking about taking the risk if I didn’t know I could handle it.” When I finish, Tony’s eyes go to Martina before coming back to me.
“Are you sure about this, cara?” Martina asks.
“Yes, I’m sure. I have never been more sure about anything in my life.”
Even when I decided to move to the city to go to cosmetology school, I had doubts about what I was doing. But I have no doubts about this.
“Okay,” Tony states. “We will all have to talk to our Realtor, and you will have to speak with the landlord of the building and figure out all the financing stuff. If you really want it, it’s yours.”
“Really?” I ask in disbelief.
“Really,” he agrees.
Tears start to fill my eyes.
“I should tell Antonio,” Martina says, studying me.
Unexpected panic fills my chest.
“No!” I shout, causing her to jump in her chair. “I mean”—I lower my voice—“not yet. Not until after everything is settled. Please. I don’t want to jinx it.”
The truth is that I don’t want Antonio to try and talk me out of buying the shop because of his own personal feeling about the business.
“He knows we’re selling, cara. It might make him happy to know that you’re going to be the one purchasing it,” Martina says.
I inhale.
“Please, not yet. Can we wait until everything is done?” I ask.
She looks at her husband, who is studying me with a strange look in his eyes.
“When the time’s right, you can tell him,” Tony says, putting emphasis on the word you.
That panic in my chest comes back, in full force.
“Okay, I’ll tell him,” I agree, maybe not lying.
I tell myself that I can just send him an email or a text to let him know, once everything is done.
“I like the idea of Tony’s staying in the family,” Martina says.
I smile at her warmly, liking the idea of her thinking of me as family. My eyes widen as she continues.
“Who knows? Maybe one day you will even have the last name Moretti.”
“Martina . . . ,” Tony sighs, “leave the poor girl alone.”
“They say the person you ring in the New Year with will be the one you spend your year with.”
I think back to Antonio telling me that we needed to talk, then kissing the side of my mouth.
“You’re freaking her out.” Tony rolls his eyes at his wife, and I shift uncomfortably.
Martina isn’t freaking me out—I’m used to her seeing something that isn’t there between Antonio and me. I do wonder exactly what it is that he wants from me, though, and what he thinks it is that we need to talk about.
Now that is totally freaking me out.
“I’m not freaking her out,” Martina denies.
“Is she freaking you out?” Tony asks.
I shake my head. His eyes move to my hair, and I realize a little too late that I’m twisting a strand of hair around my finger.
Crap.
I’ve always done that when I’m lying. When I was younger, I thought my parents had magical powers because they always knew when I fibbed. I had no idea it was really because I would twirl my hair whenever I wasn’t telling the truth.
“She’ll be fine.” Martina grins at me. “Anyway, do you have time to stay for breakfast? I was just going to make us some egg whites and toast.”
I must make a face, because Tony starts to laugh. “Believe me—they are that bad.”
“I’m sure they aren’t. I bet Martina makes some awesome egg whites, but I need to get to the salon. I work today.”
“I wish I had an excuse. I miss real eggs and coffee,” Tony says.
Martina glares at him.
“What? I didn’t say I was going to go out and eat them. But I do miss them.”
“Too bad,” she grumbles.
Giving her a hug, I say, “Again, I’m really sorry for just showing up without calling. I was so excited to ask you this when I woke up this morning.”
“You’re always welcome in our home, cara.”
“Thanks.” I let her go, then give Tony a quick hug before heading for the front door.
Once I’m outside, I catch a cab across town to work—with a big smile on my face.
Time’s up.
Staring down at the text message I just got from Antonio, I feel my pulse start to race.
What the hell does that mean?
I know I’m going to have to talk to him eventually, but I don’t think I’m ready. Not yet.
What was I thinking?
His words from that night we almost had sex still hurt me every time they float through my mind.
“God. What the hell was I thinking?” I whisper to myself.
“What were you thinking about what?” Palo asks, making me jump.
I spin around in the makeup chair to face him.
“Nothing.” I drop my cell phone into my purse.
“Love, you are the worst liar in the world.” He slaps my hand, which I realize is toying with a piece of my hair.
Dammit.
“So tell me. What’s going on?”
“I . . .”
I start to tell him that it’s nothing. Then I realize that maybe, as a man, he can give me some insight into what’s going on in Antonio’s head.
“Well . . . do you remember Antonio?”
He nods, crossing his arms over his chest.
“You know I’ve had a crush on him forever.”
Nodding again, Palo’s eyes narrow slightly. He doesn’t like Antonio because I’ve shared stories with him about how Antonio has acted toward me in the past. Since Palo is my friend—and a good one—he thought it was ridiculous that I still had a crush on him. He’s made that perfectly clear by trying to set me up with every available man in the city.
“Well . . . we kinda kissed.”
“You kind of kissed?” His eyes narrow farther.
“Well . . . we did more than kind of kiss,” I admit reluctantly.
He suddenly pulls me from the chair by my hand.
“What are you doing?”
“We’re going to talk—in the office.”
He drags me through the salon to the office, where he shuts the door behind us. Leading me to one of the chairs, he forces me to sit and then takes a seat across from me. He leans in with his elbows on his knees. “Tell me exactly what happened.”
“We kissed.”
“You said that.” He waves his hand around, indicating that he wants me to get to the point.
I bite my lip. “Fine . . . we kissed. I don’t even know who started it. One minute we were arguing; then the next we were making out hot and heavy. He was picking me up and carrying me to the office in the pizza parlor. He laid me on the couch and took off my top,” I say quickly. His eyes widen. “Umm”—I inhale, then look away from him before whispering—“I told him I was a virgin and he stopped. He shut down completely and said, ‘What was I thinking?’ I was so embarrassed by how he responded that I kind of lost my mind and freaked out.”
“Jesus,” he mutters.
I lift my head.
“When was this?”
“A few days before New Year’s.”
“Have you spoken to him since then?”
“Yes.” I nod, feeling my cheeks get warm as I think about him saying he was going to kiss me again in the office and then him kissing me on New Year’s Eve in front of everyone. Not that anyone noticed. “But I haven’t talked to him about what happened. I told him I needed time. Today he sent me a text that just said, ‘Time’s up.’”
“Time’s up?” he repeats.
I nod and shake my head. “I don’t know what that means—exactly.”
“My guess is your time’s up.”
I blink at him. “Okay, so what does that mean?”
“Hopefully it means he’s got his head on straight. If it doesn’t, it means that I’m going to pay him a visit.”