Page 36

"Please. I could use it."

Steam rises as she pours the dark liquid, the rich aroma filling the small kitchen. "Cream? Sugar?"

"Both," I admit. "I like it sweet."

Kelly slides the mug across the counter to me, and I wrap my hands around it, savoring the warmth.

"You know," she says, leaning against the counter, "I've been a home nurse for fifteen years, and this is one of my favorite placements."

I raise an eyebrow. "Really? Even with all the confusion?"

"Especially with that." Her eyes crinkle at the corners when she smiles. "Your grandfather has such beautiful stories when he slips into the past. Yesterday, he told me all about meeting your grandmother at a dance. The way his face lit up..." She shakes her head. "That's why I do this job. Those moments of pure joy."

Something loosens in my chest, a knot I didn't realize was there.

"I've been so worried about him," I confess. "Trying to run the bar and take care of him at the same time...it's been overwhelming."

Kelly reaches across the counter and pats my hand. "That's why I'm here. You don't have to do it all alone anymore."

I take a sip of coffee to hide the sudden burn of tears. "Thank you. I mean it."

"He's proud of you, you know. Even in his confusion, he talks about his granddaughter taking over the family business. Says you've got grit."

A laugh bubbles up through the tightness in my throat. "Grit. That sounds like him."

For the first time since I arrived in New Orleans, I feel like I can breathe properly. Like someone's lifted a fifty-pound weight off my shoulders.

I spendthe afternoon admiring the new fixtures in the bar and organizing another decade’s worth of records. I'm in the middleof ensuring all the new dishes are clean when Roman decides to start up a conversion.

"You know," Roman says, settling onto a barstool, "my nonna had dementia too. Used to spend hours just sitting with her, telling her the same stories over and over."

I pause in my inspection of the new glassware. Roman and I haven't spoken much since Sam assigned him as my babysitter. For most of the day, I've thought of him as a large and silent shadow. His admission surprises me.

"Really? How did you handle it?" I set down the glass and move closer to him.

"Some days were harder than others. But those moments when she'd look at me and really see me? Worth everything."

My throat tightens. "Yeah, I know exactly what you mean."

For some reason, I didn't expect Sam's minions to have lives outside of their duties to him. Hearing Roman speak of his grandmother tugs at my heart.

“He’s not a bad guy, ya know.”

“Who?”

“Sam,” Roman answers. “He made sure my grandmother was taken care of. Paid for the best memory care facility, and when she passed, he paid for her tomb in Lafayette. He takes care of his people.”

Roman’s words and the weight of his sincerity tugs at my chest. I nod, no words forming in my mouth to reply. Is that true? Is the boss of the New Orleans mob actually a good person? My mother would scoff if she heard my internal monologue right now.

I look around the bar, taking in all the changes Sam made once again. Everything’s perfect.

He did everything on my list, plus more. I can’t shake the feeling that he heard me when I said this place was important to me. He said he wanted to help me…and he did. The image ofRhett comes to mind unwillingly and a comparison chart forms in my brain. Rhett didn’t hear me. And he surely didn’t do things like this to make me happy.

How is it possible that a criminal is treating me better than my ex-fiancé?

I stop overthinking it. Instead, I pull out my phone and snap a picture of the renovated space. Before I can stop myself, I send it to Sam.

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