“I’ll go in before you. Then you can follow when the coast is clear.”
He’s out of the car and opening my door before I can move. He leads me through the parking lot, my breath frosting the air.
The night is still. Behind us there’s nothing but silence while up ahead is street noise and the sound of people laughing and chatting.
I pause. “Maybe we should go back to the car.”
“I won’t let them see you.”
I sneak a glimpse over my shoulder, the hair at the back of my neck standing on end. The silver sedan is waiting in the shadows on the side street. The darkened face of the man sitting inside stares straight at me.
“He’s keeping an eye on anybody that approaches. And he’s not the only one.”
I nod, only slightly appeased, and continue after him, one slow step after another until Luca is reaching for the back door, pulling it open with a squeak to poke his head inside.
He blocks my view of the interior for pained heartbeats before he sidesteps and allows me entry into a bustling stainless-steel kitchen.
“Come on.” He holds out a hand and drags me inside.
The new noises are overwhelming. The sizzle of hot plates. The clink of saucepans. There are barked orders from a man wearing a chef’s uniform as he scans the four workers situated at different cooking stations.
None of them pay us attention as Luca leads me across the room, this time stopping at a swinging door with a circular peephole.
“Here.” He peers through the opening. “They’re over the far right of the room. Talking to your brother.”
My insides squeeze.
Heart. Chest. Stomach.
I can’t move.
After years of trying to forget the love and support of my parents due to the weakness it brought, I struggle to take the final step.
“Pen?” Luca tugs on my hand. “Come on.”
I stare into those eyes, the noise increasing, my pulse deafening.
He lessens the panic. There’s the strong hold of his hand, the unfaltering focus, the confident tilt of his chin. Everything about him makes me want to be bold.
I can do this.
After everything I’ve been through, I can do this one simple thing.
I inch forward, stealing my hand from his to place my palms against the door for grounding. At first, the view is the same as outside. People are everywhere, the faces unrecognizable.
Then I spy Sebastian in his suit with Keira wearing a floral flowing dress and cream jacket nestled close at his side.
I hold my breath as my gaze drifts over the people in front of him. The shorter height. The greying hair.
My eyes blaze as I stare at the back of my parents’ heads.
That’s all there is through the crowd. Their familiar hairstyles. The recognizable frames.
But it’s them.
My heart.
My home.
Overwhelming gratitude consumes me. I stare at them for a lifetime, the noise disappearing, the outside world evaporating.
“You’re smiling.” There’s pride in Luca’s voice. “Really smiling.”
I sniff through my tingling nose. “It may only be the back of their heads, but I’m currently seeing the most beautiful picture right now.”
“Yeah.” He pauses. “Me, too.”
The emotions intensify and I tremble with thanks as I turn my attention to Luca, ensnared in his pride-filled eyes.
“Go on.” He jerks his chin at the peephole. “Keep lookin’. I’m going to steal something to eat and stop distracting you.” He winks and walks away, aiming for the kitchen staff preparing hors d’oeuvres.
“Thank you.” It takes a moment for me to drag my gaze back to the party. I watch. Listen. Pretend I’m part of the festivities.
I let the laughter from the people inside the restaurant sink into me, the happiness, the calm, and attempt to read Sebastian’s lips as he continues to talk to our parents.
I don’t move as waitstaff walk in and out of the kitchen, the whoosh of the door beside me bringing clearer insight to nearby conversations. I hear names and punchlines. Drink orders and compliments.
Then horror.
Every ounce of my joy evaporates when a male voice asks, “Hey, Dodge, how have you been?”
That’s all it takes. One question. One name.
Dodge.
Ice enters my veins. My breathing labors.
I can’t see who the speaker is. I can’t even determine who they’re talking to, but that name brings crystal clarity.
My memory hadn’t triggered this morning when I wrote that list, but it does now.
Dodge was a man who supplied Luther with information. A spy of sorts. A traitor to Cole.
I inch back from my peephole and try to get my memories to cycle while attempting to hear