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He hated the sound of the bell upon his exit and felt as if Alina’s gaze was on him long after he left.
Alina cooked silently for the few people who came into the diner for breakfast. It felt a little strange, not talking. A few times, her eyes searched for Luka, but that was stupid.
Frank was quieter than usual during her shift. He cleared his throat, pulling her gaze to him. “I’m really sorry for teasing you,” he said.
Meg smacked him with the menu she’d retrieved from a table. “You already said that. Leave it alone.”
Alina swallowed the lump that had risen in her throat. “It’s not like that,” she finally admitted, staring down at her shoes. It was the first time she’d worn them in days.
“You sure?” Frank asked. “He sure did gobble up your food.”
Alina’s brows drew together as her eyes shifted back to him.
Frank’s skin reddened under his beard. “Not that I don’t like it myself. I just mean, he was excited, is all.”
Meg’s gruff laugh sounded. “Give it up and tell the girl the truth.” Her eyes slid to Alina. “She’s not the worst cook, but she’d not good either.”
Frank went silent a beat too long. “No, it’s fine.”
As Alina’s gaze swept over the couple of other regulars at the bar, they looked away. Her stomach dropped. “It tastes bad?” She’d been fairly confident ever since that first day.
Meg surprised her by nudging her toward the stove. “Come on, I’ll show you a few things.”
Alina absorbed as much culinary knowledge as she could the rest of the morning, even into the afternoon. Normally she left when lunch started. She was avoiding going back to the house alone, she realized.
She tried to give Meg back the morning tips before she left, but the woman scowled at her. “You earned that.”
“You gave both me and Luka food,” Alina said, feeling guilty.
“And you both eat like chipmunks. It don’t cost that much.” Meg reached out, hesitated, but then ruffled her hair. “I was glad to see you were all right. Frank was too.”
He’d said as much when he’d left the diner for work. And he’d tipped her too much again.
“Thank you. For everything.” Alina swallowed. The hand in her hair had hurt a little, but that wasn’t why she wanted to cry.
Meg lifted an eyebrow. “You trying to say goodbye? Who’s going to cook breakfast tomorrow?”
Alina gaped at her. “But my food isn’t good.”
Meg waved her hand. “That don’t matter. My customers barely have tastebuds anyway.” She held Alina’s gaze. “Come back if you want.” She waited for Alina to nod before turning to the grill.
On the way back to the house, Alina stopped to use some of the recent money for groceries. The least she could do was practice the new skills she’d been taught. Besides, Luka was definitely going to come back.
A few hours later, she wrapped up the second portion she had made to store it in the fridge. Night had fallen, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep yet. She needed a shower after sweating in front of the stove all day, and she washed her clothes, putting on one of the long-sleeved shirts Luka had left behind. One of the evenings during his recovery, he’d snuck out and returned with a few changes of clothes. She’d yelled at him again, but his wound hadn’t opened, and she’d known he was healing despite the time being so short.
He no longer froze when she yelled. He stared at her intently instead, the green of his eyes seeming to shine.
His lack of presence in the house should have been barely noticeable. It wasn’t like Luka talked much or even moved around that much, not when she nagged him to rest. He would just sit, often against the wall instead of the bed, and listen to her ramble.
Alina’s hands twisted together as she stared at the finished painting of him. She wanted to work on it more, but it was done. Anything she added would detract from, not add to, the portrait. She moved it, taking out a blank canvas instead. She knew what to paint next: the drawing Luka gazed at endlessly, even more than his own.
The coldness of Giovanni Di Salvo’s eyes would be even better in blue.
Hours passed as she talked through each step aloud and remembered the one time she’d seen Giovanni and Enzo, until her eyelids began to droop. Those first few days after Luka’s stomach had been slit open, when adrenaline had been running through her system, it had been easy to stay awake, but after multiple nights sleeping well by his side, her body wanted to continue the healthier cycle. She washed her brush and curled up on the bed, facing the empty bedroom doorway.
He would return, she told herself.
Alina felt pathetic that she needed him to, but she heard his softly whispered “no” in her memory when she’d called herself that. Remembering his voice let her eyes shut, but her wrist felt cold.
