was joy. I couldn’t help but smile back as he came toward me, tucking a hand towel into the waist of the white apron tied low around his hips. He pulled me into a crushing hug, crutches and all.
He pulled back to scan for any new injuries, searching for wounds that weren’t so easily visible. Apparently, he didn’t like what he saw. He cupped my cheeks with warm strong hands and said in a dulcet soothing tone, “ Mi Uvita .”
Shit. Only when feeling especially emotional did he resort to the use of “ mi Uvita ,” translated to “my little grape.” I must really look like crap.
“I’m fine, Pasa ,” I returned using my nickname for him. Raisin. The names had been coined back in olden days when, at five years old, I pitched a hissy fit on a field trip. He claimed I turned the color of a purple Concord grape. I’m not sure exactly when I began calling him Pasa , but the names stuck, becoming more and more endearing as years passed.
Unofficially, my parents had shared custody of me from the time I was four years old. A fifty-fifty split. My time with my mother was…free. She raised me to be nothing if not independent. Though she loved me fiercely, she often did her own thing and expected me to do the same.
My father…well, he didn’t know what to do with me at all. So, he left my care to Raphael, who until recently had been my father’s full-time valet. He’d cut back his hours only after falling in love with Maggie (thanks to a little matchmaking), and here he was, working by her side at her restaurant and happier than I’d ever seen him.
Raphael had been in my life for as long as I could remember. He’d been my caretaker. My playmate. My teacher. My friend. My partner in crime. The one person in my life I knew without a doubt I could count on. He’d been the one to bandage scrapes, to shop with me for school supplies, to take me to museums and zoos. He’d been the one to teach me to drive. He’d dried my tears when my heart was broken. It was his wallet I’d found that revealed my ESP after I thought all my powers were lost.
He was wise, kind, and the best kind of good.
He was joy.
“I’m good,” I insisted, trying to reassure him, even though I suddenly felt like sobbing. “Really.”
“Such lies you tell,” he said with a chastising look.
“I’d never,” I lied, beating back the tears with an emotional baseball bat.
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Are you going to hog her all day?” a female voice asked from behind him.
With a sigh, he stepped aside to shake Aiden’s hand and said to him, “Glad to see you’re not missing after all.”
Maggie Constantine gave me a hug. Her hair was pulled back into a long braid, and her eyes shone with a vitality that came from an energy that radiated within her. “You’re doing okay?” she asked, echoing Raphael’s concern.
“I’m good,” I repeated and nodded enthusiastically, swinging that mental bat around like I was aiming for a Twinkie-filled piñata.
She searched my gaze, too, and gave me a smile. She didn’t know me as well as Raphael—it was easier to be deceptive. Turning her focus to Aiden, she teased, “I thought we were going to have to send out a search party for you. I was taking up a collection of Tic Tacs.”
Aiden’s gaze flicked to me. “Word gets around fast.”
I smiled. “Welcome to my world.”
Another couple came in, blinking as they adjusted to the lighting after being out in the sunshine. Raphael said, “Let me get these customers settled, then I’ll be back to see you.”
“No rush,” I said, crutching out of the way. “We’re staying for lunch.”
“Wonderful!” Maggie ushered us to a booth near the front windows. “Sit, sit.”
As I set my crutches into the booth and slid in next to them, the scent of garlic wafted in the air along with something else, something nuttier. Roasted pine nuts maybe. It was so nice to smell something other than smoke.
“Hungry?” she asked, putting menus in our
He pulled back to scan for any new injuries, searching for wounds that weren’t so easily visible. Apparently, he didn’t like what he saw. He cupped my cheeks with warm strong hands and said in a dulcet soothing tone, “ Mi Uvita .”
Shit. Only when feeling especially emotional did he resort to the use of “ mi Uvita ,” translated to “my little grape.” I must really look like crap.
“I’m fine, Pasa ,” I returned using my nickname for him. Raisin. The names had been coined back in olden days when, at five years old, I pitched a hissy fit on a field trip. He claimed I turned the color of a purple Concord grape. I’m not sure exactly when I began calling him Pasa , but the names stuck, becoming more and more endearing as years passed.
Unofficially, my parents had shared custody of me from the time I was four years old. A fifty-fifty split. My time with my mother was…free. She raised me to be nothing if not independent. Though she loved me fiercely, she often did her own thing and expected me to do the same.
My father…well, he didn’t know what to do with me at all. So, he left my care to Raphael, who until recently had been my father’s full-time valet. He’d cut back his hours only after falling in love with Maggie (thanks to a little matchmaking), and here he was, working by her side at her restaurant and happier than I’d ever seen him.
Raphael had been in my life for as long as I could remember. He’d been my caretaker. My playmate. My teacher. My friend. My partner in crime. The one person in my life I knew without a doubt I could count on. He’d been the one to bandage scrapes, to shop with me for school supplies, to take me to museums and zoos. He’d been the one to teach me to drive. He’d dried my tears when my heart was broken. It was his wallet I’d found that revealed my ESP after I thought all my powers were lost.
He was wise, kind, and the best kind of good.
He was joy.
“I’m good,” I insisted, trying to reassure him, even though I suddenly felt like sobbing. “Really.”
“Such lies you tell,” he said with a chastising look.
“I’d never,” I lied, beating back the tears with an emotional baseball bat.
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Are you going to hog her all day?” a female voice asked from behind him.
With a sigh, he stepped aside to shake Aiden’s hand and said to him, “Glad to see you’re not missing after all.”
Maggie Constantine gave me a hug. Her hair was pulled back into a long braid, and her eyes shone with a vitality that came from an energy that radiated within her. “You’re doing okay?” she asked, echoing Raphael’s concern.
“I’m good,” I repeated and nodded enthusiastically, swinging that mental bat around like I was aiming for a Twinkie-filled piñata.
She searched my gaze, too, and gave me a smile. She didn’t know me as well as Raphael—it was easier to be deceptive. Turning her focus to Aiden, she teased, “I thought we were going to have to send out a search party for you. I was taking up a collection of Tic Tacs.”
Aiden’s gaze flicked to me. “Word gets around fast.”
I smiled. “Welcome to my world.”
Another couple came in, blinking as they adjusted to the lighting after being out in the sunshine. Raphael said, “Let me get these customers settled, then I’ll be back to see you.”
“No rush,” I said, crutching out of the way. “We’re staying for lunch.”
“Wonderful!” Maggie ushered us to a booth near the front windows. “Sit, sit.”
As I set my crutches into the booth and slid in next to them, the scent of garlic wafted in the air along with something else, something nuttier. Roasted pine nuts maybe. It was so nice to smell something other than smoke.
“Hungry?” she asked, putting menus in our
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