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By the time the weekend party arrives, I’m warmed up to the idea, and so is the weather.
Tables with white tablecloths are set up in the backyard, around the bubbling fountain that serves as the centerpiece. Ava and I are setting floral arrangements in the middle of each table when Marcel comes rushing up to Salvatore.
I only catch the words, “You might want to bring her.”
Both men look my way.
My instincts bristle. They talk in lower tones for a few moments before Marcel returns to the house.
“What was that about?” I ask, throwing down a circle of pink and white flowers.
Salvatore motions for me to follow him. I give Ava my basket, exchanging bewildered looks.
“This was supposed to be a surprise,” he says, something grim in his voice. “Well, in a way, I guess it still is…”
I follow him to the very front of the house, to the main door, where someone is coming through—one of Salvatore’s men, his face blood red, snot and tears pouring down his cheeks and chin as he stumbles inside. I stop in the middle of the room, stunned. He screams for Vinny as he blindly navigates toward the kitchen.
“What happened to him—”
“She did,” Sal sighs.
I swear, for just one minute, time stops.
Kay is hauled in between two men, in a short black and white print dress with her wild curls flying right alongside a few flamboyant curses. Until she sees me.
“Tessa!” She shrieks. It brings time back to motion as she breaks away from the two. We meet in the middle of the room, embracing each other in a crushing hug. I feel her shaking against me, sobbing, her hands so tight in my hair it hurts.
“I’m so sorry. Girl, I’m so sorry.”
I don’t know what she’s saying it for. I try my hardest to comfort her and shush her. I’ve seen Kay deal with a lot of shit before. I’ve never seen her actually cry until this moment.
“It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m okay. Look,” I pull back, trying to let Kay look me over and see for herself that, at least superficially, I’m no worse for wear.
“I thought—”
She can’t bring herself to say it. I shush her again, and we end up in each other’s arms a second time. I don’t know how long our hug is going to last, but it might be until one of our lungs gives up first.
Finally, when we both have a handle on ourselves, the questions start rolling in.
“Why are you here? How are you here? And what the hell did you do to that guy?”
Kay glowers over my shoulder, toward the sniveling and groaning still audible from the back of the house.
“That’s what we’re here to discuss,” Salvatore says. “I invited Miss Lowry as a surprise guest for your engagement party. Apparently, she came armed.”
Still near the door, Marcel brandishes a small, sleek pistol.
“Concealed in a harness around her upper thigh,” he says. “I’m told when the guards attempted to disarm her, she fought back with pepper spray that was concealed as a tube of lipstick and tried to run up the driveway. It sounds very James Bond. I’m a little disappointed I wasn’t there to witness the whole disaster.”
Kay sniffs, as though taking this as a compliment. “I was coming to get my girl back,” she says, without a shred of shame.
“I’m afraid your girl has changed hands,” Salvatore replies.
“Hello?” I say into the crowd, waving my hands. “I’m still standing right here.”
Kay takes me by the wrist, rubbing her thumb over the veins to comfort me, finally dragging her poisonous glare from Salvatore. “I’m sorry,” she finally says to me. “I’m so sorry. I really wanted to help; I couldn’t just do nothing—”
“It’s okay,” I assure her. I glance to Salvatore. “Isn’t it?”
