Page 52 of King
Dante: You know, I think I’m actually enjoying the chase. I’ll enjoy it even more when you finally let me catch you. I promise I’ll make damned sure you don’t regret it. I’ll see you later, sugar.
Mia let him in after he rang the doorbell, and I heard Dante’s deep voice followed by Everly’s ear-splitting squeal.
“Grandpa!” Ethan shouted as Dante strolled into my kitchen a moment later with the baby cradled against his broad chest. She was staring up at him with wide eyes and a big, drool-covered grin.
“Hey, E-man. What are you up to over there?” Dante smiled at the sight of his grandson, perched on a stool and wearing one of my aprons to keep the strawberries from staining his light blue T-shirt.
“I’m helpin’ Miss Ella make strawberry jam.”
“Wow, that sounds good, little man.”
“It’s even better than the stuff Mommy buys at the store. Miss Ella makes all kinds of ‘em, and she gave me some to take home, too.”
Dante raised his eyebrows as he surveyed the collection of canning jars I’d put in a small box for Ethan to take with him. “Triple berry, spiced peach, apple butter…wait, carrot cake jam? I’ve never even heard of that.”
“It sounds gross, Grandpa, but it’s really good, even though it’s got carrots in it,” Ethan assured him. “Daddy even puts it on top of his vanilla ice cream.”
“I love carrot cake, so maybe I need to try some of that myself.”
I cleared my throat before offering, “It was my Gran’s recipe. Actually, most of what I make comes from what she taught me.”
“She must have been an amazing cook then, based on what I’ve tasted so far.”
I smiled sadly and blinked back an unexpected tear at his words. “She was,” I said huskily. I hesitated before asking, “What brings you by, Dante?”
He shot me a satisfied smile as my use of his real name registered. “I’m here for these two. I told Rome I would pick up the kids so he and Abby could go out to dinner. I figured they could use a little time alone without dealing with the stress of the wedding stuff,” he told me quietly as Ethan washed the sticky strawberry juice from his hands. “They mentioned that you won’t be able to come to the wedding on Saturday.”
“No, I’m afraid not. My aunt and uncle are celebrating their fiftieth wedding anniversary this weekend, so the kids and I will be driving down to their house in Evansville early Saturdaymorning and won’t be home until late that night,” I explained regretfully. “I hate to miss the wedding, but they’re the only extended family I left, and I can’t miss their anniversary party either.”
“I understand completely, sugar, and I’m glad you’ll get to spend some time with your family.”
Mia handed him a jar of the carrot cake jam, which he looked over with interest, as Ethan hurried to put his shoes on. He gave me a sweet hug, and Everly gave me a soggy kiss before they left a few minutes later. Dante stole a hug, too, which I admitted to myself felt nicer than it should, especially when he added a kiss to the top of my head in a gesture that was as sweet as it was unexpected.
I had to make an effort to concentrate on the task at hand once he and the kids left. Luckily, Mia had time to help me finish the strawberry jam before she and Hunter left for dinner with Clayton and Sabrina. I ended up canning eleven pints of it, which I hoped would last for the rest of the summer.
His text later that night brought tears to my eyes.
Dante: I’m so sorry if I dredged up sad memories for you. I ate a spoonful of that jam a little while ago, and it’s incredible. Your Gran must have been one hell of a cook, and you were clearly a very talented student. Goodnight, sugar.
I realized I was looking forward to his latest offering when my doorbell rang late Thursday morning. Lenny’s smiling face greeted me.
“Forget-me-nots,” he announced as he handed me a large pot filled with pretty blue flowers.
“They’re beautiful, but don’t you ever get a day off?”
The older man just smiled. “I only work a few hours a day. It keeps me busy, and Dorothy appreciates the help.” I’d learned during the course of our brief interactions that Dorothy was the owner of the flower shop, as well as being Lenny’s “long-time lady love”, he’d told me with a wink.
“Dorothy would smack me for telling you this but despite what she says, there’s no such thing as ‘florist-customer confidentiality’,” he snorted. “That King fella has spent a lot of time talking with her about flowers and their different meanings and such, not to mention all the money he’s been spending. If you don’t mind a bit of advice from an old man, you’ve got him on the hook, so now is the time to either reel him in or throw him back. From what I’ve seen, the man is a keeper.”
He left after dispensing his words of wisdom and I heaved a sigh as I closed the door inspected the latest delivery. I was somewhat surprised that they were in a pot with soil, rather than the usual vases of flowers he’d been sending. The reason for the change became clear when I read the card.
“I thought you could plant these forget-me-nots in honor of those who live on in your heart. Have a good day, sugar.”
After a moment’s hesitation, I pulled out my phone and sent a quick text before I could change my mind.
Me: The forget-me-nots are perfect. Thank you.
A moment later, his reply popped up on my screen.
