Page 154 of The Crowned Garza

When I make it to Barefoot Runaway at noon, I find her sitting out in the small backyard of the adjoined condo, having coffee and rock cakes with a stern-faced woman who looks…like nothing short of royalty.

Everything from her coiffured dark hair, to her clothes, down to the shade of her lipstick screams class, wealth, and privilege.

“Oh, you’re busy.” I stop short, all too happy to get out of whatever Mom had in store for me. “I can come back another—”

“No, come, come.” Mom beckons me with a Cheshire cat grin. “Have a seat.”

Why is she wearing her grinny face? The one she wears whenever she’s watching her sons with the women they fell in love with.

Curious but cautious, I join them at the round, wrought-iron table under the large patio umbrella.

The unknown woman eyes me observingly as she sips her coffee. Her features are refined, delicately feminine, but also somewhatfamiliar.

“Hi,” I say once I’m seated. “I’m Tillie.”

She sets her cup down and offers me a perfectly manicured hand, and with a strong Italian accent, says, “It’s nice to finally meet you, Tillie.”

Finally? Frowning, I look at Mom then back at her. “Should I know you?”

Her stern lines are replaced with welcoming warmth when she smiles. “I’m Eleanora Rossetti.”

Eleanora Rossetti? Still doesn’t ring a bell.

Although…wait, Saint’s family in Italy are Rossetti, right? Could she be—

“Eleanora is Guy’s mother,” Mom supplies before I can put it together.

Whoa. Eyes widening, I stutter, “Oh, I—I didn’t—I never—”

Eleanora waves me off. “Do not stress. My son does not even know I am here yet. His uncle told me he has been asking questions about marriage, so I figured I would come meet the woman who has been able to do the impossible and enrapture my workaholic son, whom I was certain would die alone with that baleful cat of his. As far as I know, he has been single his entire life. You cannot imagine how thrilled I was to learn about you.”

“Um, wow, I…” I scratch my rapidly heating neck. “If I knew I would be meeting you today, I would’ve presented myself better. I’m wearing this hideous track suit only because I anticipated an ass whooping from Mom. I just threw on an outfit with as much padding as possible to protect me.” Nervously, I touch the messy, tangled ball of curls on top of my head. “Sorry if I made a horrible first impression.”

Mom smacks the back of my head in admonishment.

“See what I mean?” I say. “Thank God I have alotta hair.”

Eleanora titters. Yes,titters. Her laugh is like a freaking songbird.

“You are perfect.” Her words stroke my praise-loving ego. “Santo is stiffly particular and staunchly decisive. He has a strong will and is not easily tempted or swayed. Believe me, you wouldhave hadto be something special.”

“She is,” Mom says, still with that grinny face, soothingly rubbing the back of my headshesmacked. “She very much is.”

“So I hear you’re a sous chef.” Eleanora’s rich brown eyes gleam with restrained curiosity. “Please, tell me more about you.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

“My orders, huh?”

Tillie

WHEN SANTO FINALLY RETURNSto me, it’s on the cusp of dawn. On the tail end of one of the longest, loneliest nights I’ve endured missing and craving him.

In the depths of oblivion, my soul must’ve felt his because my eyes abruptly snap open. No alarm, no sudden sounds, no apparent reason for rousing.

Nothing but a silent, impalpable tug.

He’s here.