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Every single solitary bit of me screams yes. Except my heart. Knowing this is a recipe for disaster, it says,Hell no. I can’t take any more heartbreak at the moment.
But logically, it makes sense. And certainly wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. It might even be good to pick his brain a bit.
“Just a few dates?”
“Or even just here, at Festa. Play it up a bit.”
My insides clench thinking about playing anything with Tris.
“It could be fun,” he says, making this a more difficult decision.
“You don’t strike me as a playful, carefree kind of guy.”
Tris purses his lips together. “I can be.”
My head cocks to the side.
“And maybe I was ambushed by Gian. But it’s not a terrible idea.”
Oh, what the hell. I already know my answer. Might as well spit it out.
“Sure. Why not.”
The glimmer in his eye reminds me of that first night. It reminds me of our dance.
“This is nuts.”
“It is,” he agrees. “But what’s the worst thing that can happen?”
That’s a great question. And one I’m not overly anxious to have answered.
12
Tristano
“The prodigal son returns.”
As always, my dad is at the pizza oven. Mom is behind a mountain of cardboard boxes, with Lusanne and Gian behind the counter. In the lull between the lunch and dinner crowds, I finally had time to make my way across the courthouse square.
Ducking around the side, I walk straight toward the warming trays. Grabbing a corner piece of pizza, I take a bite.
“You don’t have enough food over there”—Lusanne slaps my arm—“that you have to come scavenging?”
“I thought you were helping me today?”
My sister hands back change to a customer. “I meant to come over, but it got crazy. Frances didn’t make it in.”
“Is she ok?”
Frances is my father’s cousin who lives in Connecticut, semiretired, but who helps out the restaurant in busy times. Like Festa. Years ago, when she lived in Bridgewater, she worked at the shop, but when her daughter moved, she followed.
“She’s fine.” Lusanne lets Gian take the next customer. “Her car broke down just outside of Newtown yesterday morning.”
Lusanne hands a pile of napkins to Gian.
“I’m not a hundred percent sure what happened after that. Ask Mom. But she wasn’t here for the rush. Hence . . .” She waves her arms to indicate this tent. “It looked like you were ok over there, though.”
“We’re fine.” I leave my sister to attend to a new customer and walk back toward my parents.
