Read Online Just a Taste by Deirdre Martin - Free Book Online Page B

side.
    “So help me God, Michael,” Theresa fumed, “if you don’t stop it right now, I’m going to talk to the coach about having you banned. Seriously.”
    “You believe this?” Mike asked Anthony, gesturing at his wife. The same question Theresa had asked him not ten seconds before. My hell is in stereo, Anthony thought. But he couldn’t lie to his brother.
    “Theresa’s right, Mikey. You’re gonna turn the kid into a wreck. You should shut up.”
    Michael looked at his wife, then his brother, opened his mouth, closed it, and kept silent.
    “Thank God you’re here,” Theresa murmured to Anthony. “If you weren’t, I think I’d kill him.”
    “I heard that,” said Michael, eyes following the puck.
    “That means you’ve heard everything else I said,” said Theresa. Michael muttered something under his breath, but he kept his opinion to himself.
    “So,” said Theresa with a friendly pat to Anthony’s knee, “Michael tells me you have some very attractive competition.”
    “What?” It took him a second or two before he realized she was referring to Vivi. “Oh.” His thoughts were further interrupted when a buzzer sounded, heralding that a goal had been scored.
    “Yess!” Michael was pumping his fist in the air. “You see that?” he said to Theresa excitedly. “He got an assist! Keep the pressure on, Ant!” he called down to his son.
    “Your competition?” Theresa said loudly to Anthony, trying to redirect attention to their conversation.
    “What about her?”
    “Michael says she makes a mean apple tart.”
    Anthony made a sour face. “It was good, not great.”
    Theresa’s mention of the tart reminded him that he’d yet to carve out time to make the ricotta fritters that would reveal Vivi as the amateur she was. Maybe he’d make them Sunday morning, after visiting Ang. He’d see.
    “Michael says she likes you,” Theresa continued.
    “ Likes me? No offense, Ter, but I think Mikey took one too many pucks to the noggin. The woman doesn’t like me at all, nor do I like her. She’s a friggin’ know-it-all.”
    “You worried she’s going to cut into business?”
    Jesus Christ, Anthony thought. Subtle, Theresa was not. “I’m sure she thinks she will,” said Anthony. “She obviously doesn’t know who she’s up against.”
    “I’m kind of excited about a little French place opening in the neighborhood,” Theresa confessed.
    “Of course you are,” said Anthony. “Anything to drive a stake through my heart.”
    Theresa jostled his shoulder. “Lighten up, Ant. No one’s food compares to yours.”
    Anthony bowed his head in mock humility. “Thank you. That was the right thing to say.” They both laughed.
    Theresa glanced sideways at her husband with a look laced with both exasperation and affection that Anthony had seen many times before. Michael and Theresa might argue with fervor, but their love for each other was never in doubt. They were solid, the same way he and Ang once were. Anthony felt envious.
    As if reading his mind, Theresa said, “You still going to the cemetery?”
    “Yup.”
    For the first time since arriving at the arena, Michael seemed to be listening to his wife and brother’s conversation. “Who are you, Joe DiMaggio?” he sniggered.
    “Mind your business, Mike,” Anthony warned.
    “I think Michael’s right,” Theresa said carefully. “We just want to see you happy again, Anthony. You’re such a great guy. Maybe it’s time to move on?”
    Anthony stared down at the ice. “I have moved on.”
    “Visiting your wife’s grave once a week isn’t moving on,” Michael countered. “It’s unhealthy.”
    Anthony turned to his brother angrily. “Tell you what, Mike—when Theresa dies years before she’s supposed to, then you can tell me what’s healthy or not. Until then, zip it.”
     
    “G ood morning, cara.”
    Anthony set up his small folding chair beside Angie’s headstone and sat down with a grimace. The day before, he’d noticed