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Vinny grabbed his chest. “You’re pregnant?”
“What?” Ella exclaimed while Tony laughed. Enzo and Marco froze in place, staring at her with dark intense gazes.
“I’ll kill the bastard,” Marco snarled.
“What bastard?” Ella asked then waved her hands to stop the nonsense. “I’m not pregnant. I was just using Momma as an example. I’m not a little girl anymore.”
Enzo and Marco physically loosened up, and Vinny’s hand fell from his chest to the counter, his body leaning forward in visible relief.
“Sorry El, but you’ll always be our little girl,” Enzo said.
“Great,” Ella said with added sarcasm.
“Get used to it, sis,” Marco said, walking over and draping his arm over her shoulder. “You’re stuck with us.”
“I guess you’re not so bad, you know, when you’re not butting into my life,” she said, nudging his stomach.
He touched her neck and looked at her with curiosity. “What’s this?” he asked, and she slapped a hand over her neck.
“It’s nothing.” She didn’t even need to look to see what Marco was talking about. The red splotch of skin was a love mark from Lucas that she thought she covered well enough.
Luckily, the rest of the family were discussing the restaurant and weren’t privy to her and Marco’s exchange.
“This from the bus guy?” he asked which made Ella believe that Enzo never spilled the beans about the bus guy being Lucas Prescott.
“No,” she said. “It’s not what you think it is. I accidentally hit my skin with the curling iron.”
He arched a dark eyebrow. “Do you really expect me to believe that?” he asked.
“Yes, because it’s the truth,” she lied.
“If you’re lying, this guy means trouble.”
“There is no trouble because there is no guy. Now stop being my overprotective brother for two seconds and get the butter out of the fridge for me.” She shoved his chest and focused on cooking.
She felt like she was under a bright light at the police station, being interrogated for a crime she did commit but refused to admit. How long until she broke under the pressure?
Marco stared at her for a moment, but she held her ground and didn’t waiver. Finally, he nodded and went to the fridge. He came back and handed her the butter. When she went to take it from him, he tightened his hold. “Any more unexplained marks on your body and I’m breaking someone’s skull.”
“I told you,” she said, “it was the curling iron.”
“I want to believe you,” he said. “But for the first time in my life, I don’t.”
Marco’s words pierced her heart and pricked her eyes. She never lied to her family, ever, not after everything they had been through. Lies didn’t fit in their lives. Trust, honesty, reliability, that’s all they had room for.
So what the hell was she doing?
Chapter 12
Lucas sat in his grandfather’s small office and presented Joe with his options. None of which Joe looked particularly thrilled about. “I’m not cutting my employees’ pay. That’s out of the question,” he all but barked. “Those kids barely make enough as it is. What else you got?”
“You can change vendors. Shop around a little and see if you can get a better price on buns, butter—”
“Absolutely not,” Joe said. “I’ve been working with the same vendor since I opened these doors, and it’ll be a cold day in hell when I stop.”
Lucas took a deep breath and settled back into his chair. “If we don’t come up with something, I’m afraid you won’t have enough money to get you through the season.”
“I’ve managed for over five decades to keep this place up and running, even during the recession. There has to be a better answer.”
