Page 122 of Loyalty

“Yeah. She reminded me this morning.”

His mother waffled in her gaze before she finally settled on asking, “Was she with you this morning?”

“Usually is.”

He didn’t offer more.

His mother let out a quiet sound, but said nothing else.

“Is that a cinnamon bunt cake?” he asked.

Jordyn gave him a smile. “It is—your favorite.”

“I might be able to squeeze in some more time before I have to leave, then.”

She laughed.

“So, you’re still seeing her?” his mother asked as she worked at the counter. “The Calabrese girl, I mean.”

“Please don’t start with that, Ma. Don’t be like the rest of them.”

“Them?” Jordyn met his gaze from across the room. “For one, that’s your family. Not them. For two, it’s not the family that I worry about, John. It’s you.”

“I’m fine.”

Cella cleared her throat.

John just ignored his sister, and kept his attention on his mother. “Really, I am.”

“A relationship could possibly—”

“There’s nothing to say, Ma,” he interrupted sharply. “Not about me and her.”

Jordyn nodded. “Sure. But what does she really know about you, John? Does she know everything? Have you been honest with her?”

John bristled at that comment. “If you’re asking whether or not I told her about my disorder, then yes. I did.”

His mother brushed her hands together. “All right. I just wanted to make sure. You should maybe bring her over for dinner on Sunday. Church, too. I assume she’s Catholic.”

John gave his mother an odd look.

What in the hell was she on?

“Do you think it’s a good idea for me to bring a Calabrese to church and Sunday dinner with our family after I was told to stay away from her by Dad, and the rest of them?”

Jordyn shrugged. “You won’t know unless you try.”

She had a point …

• • •

“John!” Matteo Calabrese’s voice echoed across the quiet restaurant. The heavy-set boss sat on a stool, and had what looked to be a glass of whiskey in his hand. “My boy, come over here.”

John did his best not to bristle at the my boy thing. Matteo was always respectful, and John was dating the man’s daughter, so to speak.

“Are you here for my girl?” Matteo asked as John came closer.

“I promised her dinner.”