had ever met who could actually wink, instead of doing something that looked like a halfhearted blink. She liked that about him. “Where do you want to eat? The same dark booth at the sandwich place around the corner, I assume?”
Grace nodded. She wasn’t ashamed of Rafe, of course. She was only ashamed of herself.
“Well, good, because day-old sandwiches taste way better when you eat them in semidarkness.” Rafe folded up his apron, then gestured toward the Employees Only door. “Let me go clock out and then the night is ours.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at her, and Grace punched him in the shoulder in response. “I love a woman with a violent streak,” he said, then disappeared before she could really clock him.
“So it turns out that Maya’s mom is an alcoholic,” Grace said as they walked, positioning herself between Rafe and the wall just to keep anyone from catching a glimpse of her.
“Wow,” Rafe said. “Did she tell you all of this?”
“Her mom fell and hit her head, so she called me. My parents and I ended up at the emergency room with them.” Grace could see Maya’s pale face, her eyes blown wide open from shock, the way she had clung to Lauren’s arm even after Grace and her parents had arrived. “Her mom went to rehab the next day. Pretty scary stuff.”
“Indeed,” Rafe said. “So let me guess. You’re worried that Peach’s parents are now going to get divorced and become alcoholics?”
He was kidding, though, and Grace knocked her hip against his without thinking. “No,” she chided him. She thought again of the letter, of the photo of Peach wearing the sailor outfit. “They actually sent me a letter last week. I know Peach is in good hands.”
Rafe raised an eyebrow at her. Grace had never met anyone whose eyebrows were so expressive. She wondered if it was maybe just a muscle twitch. “Really?” he said. “Like a thank-you letter?”
“Kind of. They were just telling me how much they appreciated what I had given them, how much they loved Peach. They sent a photo, too. She was wearing a sailor outfit.”
“That sounds cool of them.”
“Yeah, they said they would send letters and photos for the first year.” Grace could hear the measured calmness in her own voice. “It made me start thinking about maybe finding my mom. Our mom.”
“Do Maya and Joaquin want to find her, too?” he asked.
“God, no,” Grace said. “They basically said that she abandoned them, so why should they look for her? Especially Joaquin, what with the foster care and everything.”
Rafe was still stuck in the same place, staring at her. “They said that to you?” He gaped. “Even though they know about Peach?”
Grace suddenly wished that she had never brought up the subject in the first place. “Well . . . they don’t actually know about Peach. I haven’t told them yet. I might not tell them at all.”
Rafe closed his eyes, dragging his hand over his face and letting out a low groan. “Okay,” he said, opening his eyes again, and then took Grace’s arm and turned her around. “Cancel sandwiches. This conversation needs french fries.”
“It’s not that bad,” Grace said, but she let herself be led past the fountain anyway.
“Trust me,” Rafe said. “It is.”
“So how long do you think you can keep your biological daughter—who, by the way, you have nicknamed after a fruit—a secret from your biological siblings? Asking for a friend.”
Grace rolled her eyes, then dipped her fry in her side of mayonnaise.
“That’s disgusting, by the way,” Rafe said, gesturing to her french fry with one of his own. “Mayonnaise, it’s the devil’s condiment.”
“More for me, then,” Grace said. She popped it into her mouth and winked at him. She wasn’t as good a winker as Rafe was, but it was a nice effort. “Maya and Joaquin like it, too, just so you know.”
“Must be a recessive gene,” Rafe replied, then pulled the ketchup bottle closer to his plate.
“I like the name Peach,” Grace said, ignoring his question.
“You’re ignoring my question,” he pointed out.
“Everyone likes peaches,” Grace continued. “They’re universally beloved. And she’ll be the same.”
Rafe opened his mouth, then closed it again. “There’s no way to argue that point without insulting your biological child, so I’m not going to try. Well played, by the way.”
Grace shrugged.
“So you’re not going to tell them?”
“You think it’s a bad idea?”
“I think it’s a terrible idea. Secrets always get out.”