Page 70 of Indulging Temptation (Tempting the Heart #1)

“Cooking is like love. It should be entered into

with abandon or not at all.”

- Harriet Van Horne

SIX MONTHS LATER

LORENA

“ I can’t believe how much I missed this place,” I shout, my comment is intended for Tino, though my voice becomes lost in the symphony of sounds erupting from the kitchen.

“We missed you both,” the hostess Claire responds as she walks towards me, leaning in for a side hug. “How long are you two in the city for?”

Tino finishes talking to the sous chef helping prepare tonight’s private meal at Cielo + Cibo and walks over to me and Claire, answering for me. “Just until tomorrow, we catch a red eye tomorrow evening.”

“Where to this time?” Claire asks.

I reach for Tino’s hand as I answer. “Puerto Rico, first. We’ll be in Mayagüez for a couple of days then we’ll be flying to Naples and spending a week there.”

“Ah that’s going to be such a nice trip,” Claire says.

Tino squeezes my hand, though as he does, I can’t help but notice his palms are a bit slippery.

My gaze draws up to his face, and I see the perspiration felt on his hand is evident on his brow.

He seems, nervous, tense even, throwing me off a bit.

Since Tino doesn’t say anything, I swoop in, telling Claire how much Tino and I are looking forward to traveling to Mayagüez, where my family originates as well as Tino’s mother’s side of the family, and then Naples, where his father’s family is from.

It’s been three months since the Culinary Network offered Tino a new show opportunity, where we can travel domestically and internationally, vlogging our experience trying new foods.

Then in each location we stop, Tino works with local chefs and curates a meal.

We’ve been all over the place, though with Tino’s cookbook release around the corner, we thought what better way to celebrate than to travel to Puerto Rico and Italy, the two locations that not only define him but also his cooking.

Claire must sense Tino’s unease, as she quickly excuses herself and heads over to the plating station to begin to help bring the food out.

Pride tugs at my heart strings as I see the food being plated using the cookware line that is now available through Apolito Market. A line that Tino curated himself, to look like pieces his mother and grandmothers had when he grew up with, but with a more modern aesthetic.

I pull Tino aside, taking the opportunity to check in with him now before we meet everyone in the main dining room. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” I joke.

Turning his head to the glass wall overlooking the dining room, he takes a deep inhale, assessing our guests for the evening.

It’s Monday, so the restaurant is closed, and since we have been traveling so much and are barely home, we thought it’d be nice to host a dinner with our friends and family all together, featuring some of the dishes that will be in Tino’s cookbook.

From my limited view I can see that my mom and Adrian have arrived, along with Tino’s aunt and uncle, Tomás, Dante, Gabriella, Luci, and even Sarina.

All we invited are accounted for…except from the looks of it just one person.

My heart sinks, now piecing together Tino’s mood.

“He’ll be here,” I reassure him, wishing I could promise, but when it comes to Tino’s dad, one can never be sure how he’ll act or if he’ll show.

Since his hospital stay a few months back, Tino and Dante have been working on mending what’s left of their relationship with their father.

It hasn’t been easy, but his commitment to his sobriety has been the only thing giving all of us hope.

Before I can say anything else, we’re interrupted by Claire once more, this time to let us know that dinner is ready.

“We’ll be right there,” I tell her, just as the kitchen clears and the staff all goes to sit at the long table set up for everyone to eat at together.

It’s when we’re alone, that Tino finally speaks. First letting out a huff of pent-up air before he does. “I hope so. I don’t know, things have felt like they’re finally getting on the right track. I don’t know what I’ll do if…”

Shifting my weight to my tiptoes, I press my lips against his for a kiss to silence him and hopefully help ease his worries.

It seems to work. His lids fall closed and before I know it, I feel the cool surgical steel bar through his tongue sneaking its way past my lips, as he scoops me up and into his arms.

Home.

That’s what every moment with him feels like.

No matter where we are.

No matter who is around.

When we’re together, I feel at home. I feel safe. Loved.

Tino’s thumb grazes my chin as he breaks the seal of our kiss.

Clapping follows though not from me or Tino. We both turn our attention to where it’s coming from, only to see Dante standing in the threshold of the kitchen.

“Sorry to interrupt, but the food is going to get cold, and you know pops hates cold gravy.”

As Tino puts me down, and my heels hit the floor, I roll my eyes at Dante. “Sauce, Dante. It’s sauce. Gravy is for turkey,” I correct him.

“Atta girl,” Tino chimes in. His fingers now laced with mine, he leads the way for us to walk out of the kitchen. “See bro, told you, stop trying to make gravy a thing.”

Dante shrugs in defeat. “Sorry, you know me.”

“Yeah, we do. Always trying to make fetch happen,” I joke as the three of us make our way to the table.

“Ooh, look at Lo, quick with the Mean Girls reference,” Dante says with a laugh.

“Always.” I wink as I go to take my seat next to Tino.

“Not so fast.” Tino snaps his fingers pointing to the seat at the head of the table where I assumed he would sit, pulling it out for me instead. “Mi reina se sienta aquí,” he says with pride.

Tino’s father, Carlo, seated to my right claps. “That’s my boy,” he says, practically beaming. “Taking care of his woman.” He flicks his gaze to mine, placing his hand on the table for me to grasp. “A woman I’m thankful is in his life every day.”

“That’s right,” Tino says, his voice cracking slightly.

“Well, I’m also very lucky, your son is the best.” Carlo lets go of my hand, and without thought my palm drifts to the chain around my neck. The same one Tino had me bite down on during our first time, as well as the same one that used to be his father’s.

Carlo notices me holding it, and emotion fills his eyes.

“No, I’m lucky. To be here after all I’ve done.”

The chattering around us stops, and suddenly everyone’s attention is on Carlo. I look briefly to Tino, but he’s looking down at the table, with a tense jaw. Dante looks the same. Both of them trying their hardest to fight back the tears that are now streaming down Carlo’s face.

Luci skips over to Carlo, tugging at his arm. “Papa, what’s wrong?” She asks with such innocence, that in this emotional moment, it feels like the medicine we all need.

Grabbing his handkerchief out of his pants pocket, Carlo wipes his tears. “Papa is just happy is all, munchkin.”

“But if you’re happy, why are you crying?” Luci asks.

Tino intervenes, motioning for Luci to go sit on his lap. “Because sometimes happiness feels surreal.”

“Surreal? What does that mean?”

“Surreal means that you can’t believe something is happening.

Sometimes when a lot of not so great things happen in life, and then finally something good, something you always dreamed of happens, you become so grateful, you can’t help but to cry,” Tino explains, and I swear, witnessing him with his niece, hearing him explain with such patience and sincerity what it means to be happy but still cry, has me falling in love with him all over again.

“So happy tears?” Luci asks, piecing what Tino said together.

“Yes, mija, happy tears,” Gabriella says through a pout as she alternates her gaze between Luci, me and Tino. “That’s what uncle Tino means. This is a really special moment, for all of us to be together, so papa is so happy, he couldn’t help but cry.”

Luci mulls it over a bit, before smiling and hopping off Tino’s lap. She walks over to her grandfather once more, hugging him before taking her seat between Gabriella and Dante.

Finally able to compose himself, Carlo taps his fork to his glass to speak.

“I’ll keep this brief, but I couldn’t let this moment go by without getting this off my chest.” Nervousness floods Tino and Dante’s expression for a brief second before it’s eased when Carlo continues.

“All I ever wanted from the time I was a little boy, was a family. I dreamed of it more than I dreamed of anything else. I wanted to one day take the love that I saw my own parents have for each other and for me and my siblings and replicate that with my own family. When I met my wife, I felt like I hit the lottery, and when I lost her, I felt like I hit rock bottom. I felt this way, because I did. Then more loss happened, and then eventually, I couldn’t handle it anymore and I ran, leaving my boys broken, wondering what happened to our family.

I don’t deserve to have a seat at my son’s table.

I don’t deserve a lot of the goodness that has come my way, but I am eternally grateful.

” Carlo turns to Tino first. “I know the sacrifice you made to get me help. I also know that it made the path to where you are now that much more difficult. But my god, my son, look at how far you’ve come.

You’re living your dream, seeing out your life’s passion, with the woman you’ve been in love with since the moment you laid eyes on her.

I’m proud of you. I know I’ve never said that to you before but I am. So damn proud.”

Tino gets up from his seat, and the moment he’s by his father, the two of them hug and there isn’t a dry eye in the entire restaurant.

It’s been a long road to get here, and the happiness I feel for the healing Tino is finally experiencing makes my heart sing. This is the longest stretch that his father has been sober, and we all are proud of him.