washed his hands before moving beside me at the island again.
He handed me a paring knife and an apple. When I looked at him like he had lost his mind, he came to stand behind me, his arms encircling me as he took my hands in his. Holding the knife with me in my right hand and the apple together in the left, he began the best baking lesson anyone could ever have.
“When cutting, angel, one must use the knife as the tool it is intended for. You must respect the power in this weapon. The victim today is Granny Smith, and together, we will strip her bare. Carefully, you place the blade of your knife at a forty-five degree angle to your intended victim.” His breath came down hot on my neck as his hand held mine steady, moving us into position. His front was against my back, our bodies touching in so many places I was lost in sensory overload. “Many people make the mistake of using their force with their knife. No, angel, use the apple and press against the blade so that you keep control of the knife at all times. Only press far enough against it to break the skin. Glide the apple against the smooth metal of your blade.”
His every word somehow enticed me and made me want to fall into a puddle on the floor, and we were talking about an apple and a knife. Seriously, I was sick and twisted on the inside to find pleasure in this moment.
He rocked against me as we finished peeling the apple and went to remove the core. Once again, his hand covered mine, and he manipulated the tool to remove the middle of the green fruit.
When he finished and pushed away from me, I immediately went cold at the loss of contact. While I tried to ignore the desires of my body, we peeled, cored, and sliced all of the apples.
Step by step, we moved together through the kitchen, getting the apples onto the stovetop with butter, cinnamon, brown sugar, a splash of vanilla, and apple pie spice. While the apples softened, we went on to mix our dough. Laying it out onto the countertop, I was once again blessed with Giano standing behind me as we rolled out two pie crusts—one for the top and the other for the actual crust. With his hand covering mine, we cut the strips for the lattice work and laid the bottom in our greased pan.
Looking down at my completed pie an hour later, I was amazed at its golden perfection.
“We make a great team,” Giano praised. “Now, as much as I would love to eat that, return to school tomorrow with that for your teacher and then ask if you can try the assignment again with her watching. We do not simply accept failures. If she doesn’t allow it, so be it. Your grades are still good, but the point is to try and try again until you achieve success.”
I didn’t know if he was giving me fatherly advice or life advice. Either way, every word that came from Giancarlo Diamante’s mouth held weight and value with me. I would treasure each word and each moment he had given me … And apple pie would never be a simple dessert again.
Chapter Ten
Another Year Later
The lies we tell ourselves often become our own version of the truth.
I’d had time to find my own footing in the life of Angelina Nylene Diamante. Over the last few years of attending school, I had found it easier and easier to be her and no longer myself. Since the mall incident, I had found comfort in knowing that, even when I was out with my friends, Giano was never really far away. He was always watching me and prepared to step in to keep me safe and our truths hidden. I also found myself less afraid of slipping up as the time passed by.
School was school. It didn’t come easily, but as long as I remained focused, I managed to get by with honor roll. I was not a straight-A student, but I wasn’t far off from one. Private school was never something anyone viewed as easy. Having less than fifteen kids per class, the teachers were all up in our business and all over our schoolwork.
Religion was the hardest class for me personally. How was I
He handed me a paring knife and an apple. When I looked at him like he had lost his mind, he came to stand behind me, his arms encircling me as he took my hands in his. Holding the knife with me in my right hand and the apple together in the left, he began the best baking lesson anyone could ever have.
“When cutting, angel, one must use the knife as the tool it is intended for. You must respect the power in this weapon. The victim today is Granny Smith, and together, we will strip her bare. Carefully, you place the blade of your knife at a forty-five degree angle to your intended victim.” His breath came down hot on my neck as his hand held mine steady, moving us into position. His front was against my back, our bodies touching in so many places I was lost in sensory overload. “Many people make the mistake of using their force with their knife. No, angel, use the apple and press against the blade so that you keep control of the knife at all times. Only press far enough against it to break the skin. Glide the apple against the smooth metal of your blade.”
His every word somehow enticed me and made me want to fall into a puddle on the floor, and we were talking about an apple and a knife. Seriously, I was sick and twisted on the inside to find pleasure in this moment.
He rocked against me as we finished peeling the apple and went to remove the core. Once again, his hand covered mine, and he manipulated the tool to remove the middle of the green fruit.
When he finished and pushed away from me, I immediately went cold at the loss of contact. While I tried to ignore the desires of my body, we peeled, cored, and sliced all of the apples.
Step by step, we moved together through the kitchen, getting the apples onto the stovetop with butter, cinnamon, brown sugar, a splash of vanilla, and apple pie spice. While the apples softened, we went on to mix our dough. Laying it out onto the countertop, I was once again blessed with Giano standing behind me as we rolled out two pie crusts—one for the top and the other for the actual crust. With his hand covering mine, we cut the strips for the lattice work and laid the bottom in our greased pan.
Looking down at my completed pie an hour later, I was amazed at its golden perfection.
“We make a great team,” Giano praised. “Now, as much as I would love to eat that, return to school tomorrow with that for your teacher and then ask if you can try the assignment again with her watching. We do not simply accept failures. If she doesn’t allow it, so be it. Your grades are still good, but the point is to try and try again until you achieve success.”
I didn’t know if he was giving me fatherly advice or life advice. Either way, every word that came from Giancarlo Diamante’s mouth held weight and value with me. I would treasure each word and each moment he had given me … And apple pie would never be a simple dessert again.
Chapter Ten
Another Year Later
The lies we tell ourselves often become our own version of the truth.
I’d had time to find my own footing in the life of Angelina Nylene Diamante. Over the last few years of attending school, I had found it easier and easier to be her and no longer myself. Since the mall incident, I had found comfort in knowing that, even when I was out with my friends, Giano was never really far away. He was always watching me and prepared to step in to keep me safe and our truths hidden. I also found myself less afraid of slipping up as the time passed by.
School was school. It didn’t come easily, but as long as I remained focused, I managed to get by with honor roll. I was not a straight-A student, but I wasn’t far off from one. Private school was never something anyone viewed as easy. Having less than fifteen kids per class, the teachers were all up in our business and all over our schoolwork.
Religion was the hardest class for me personally. How was I
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