“Sure. Let’s believe that.”
I took a breath, grabbed a menu and walked over.
Luca’s men sat on either side of him.
The baby occupied his lap, solemn and blond, wearing a little navy sweater over a white shirt.
He had large gray-blue eyes.
Strangely serious eyes.
“Good evening,” I said. “Welcome to Aurelia.”
Luca looked up.
The man had the unsettling habit of giving you his complete attention.
No distracted glance.
No checking his phone.
No pretending.
When those dark eyes landed on me, I suddenly became aware of my crooked name tag, my worn shoes and the loose strand of hair touching my cheek.
“What can I bring you to drink?”
“Mineral water.”
His voice was lower than I expected.
“The Barolo for the table.”
I wrote quickly.
“And warm milk for him.”
I smiled at the baby.
“Coming right up.”
The child froze.
His eyes locked onto mine.
Then both hands lifted.
At first I thought he was stretching.
Then he leaned toward me.
Not casually.
Desperately.
His fingers opened and closed.
A small broken sound came from his throat.
“Hey there,” I whispered automatically.
The baby lunged harder.
Luca caught him beneath the arms.
The little boy whimpered.
One of the men at the table frowned.
“Leo.”
The baby ignored him.
“Leo,” Luca repeated.
Leo’s lower lip trembled.
Then he began to cry.
Not the irritated fussing of a tired child.
It was heartbreak.
Immediate, breathless, panicked heartbreak.
Every time Luca pulled him back, Leo reached toward me again.
People began looking.
“I’m sorry,” Luca muttered, shifting him.
“It’s okay.”
“He’s tired.”
“Clearly I have that effect on men.”
The sentence escaped before I remembered Greg’s warning.
One of Luca’s men looked down to hide what might have been a smile.
Luca stared at me.
For half a second, I was certain I had just ended my employment.
Then one corner of his mouth moved.
Barely.
“You joke when you’re nervous.”
“I joke constantly, so that’s probably concerning.”
Leo screamed louder.
I crouched slightly until my face was level with his.
“Hey.”
He stopped.
Just like that.
One ragged breath left him.
His wet eyes stared at me.
I smiled.
Leo made a tiny sound.
Then his face changed.
Recognition.
There was no reasonable word for it, but that was what I saw.
Recognition.
His entire little body relaxed.
He reached for my face.
His fingers brushed my cheek.
Luca went perfectly still.
Behind him, the older of his two companions whispered, “Jesus.”
“What?” I asked.
Nobody answered.
I started to straighten.
Leo’s hand caught my apron.
The crying immediately returned.
“Avery.”
Luca had read my name tag.
“Yes?”
“Would you hold him?”
I laughed because I thought he was joking.
He wasn’t.
The room around us seemed to contract.
Even Greg, hovering near the bar like an anxious ghost, was staring.
“You want me to hold your baby?”
“For a minute.”
“Is this some kind of test?”
“No.”
“That is exactly what someone would say if it were a test.”
Luca’s expression remained flat, but something moved in his eyes.
Unease.
“Please.”
That word changed everything.
Men like Luca Moretti did not look like men who said please often.
So I held out my arms.
Leo came to me so fast he nearly threw himself from his father’s grip.
