Love Triangle Six Books of Torn Desire - Willow Winters Page 0,437

Choosing the flowers?”

“Mrs. Bradford will choose what she wants regardless of what I say. So, please, let me spend the day with you. I need this.” More than you know.

“There’s no one I’d rather spend the day with.”

I clutch the phone tighter, allowing his words to bathe me in comfort.

“See you tomorrow?” he asks when I don’t respond.

“Of course. Have a good evening. And give those girls a big squeeze from their auntie Brook.”

“I will. Sweet dreams, Brooklyn.”

“Goodbye, Drew.”

Chapter Seventeen

DREW

“Good morning, Aunt Gigi,” I call out as I enter the café, Alyssa and Charlotte in tow.

She looks up from behind the counter where she’s taking a customer’s order. It doesn’t matter I officially handed her the reins of the café when I began coaching hockey again, even though I’m still technically the owner on paper. Like my father, she loves interacting with the people who come through that door, says the personal contact with the owners gives the place a feeling of familiarity and keeps them coming back, instead of going to Starbucks. With a quick look around the busy café to see nearly every table full and a line almost out the door, I have to admit she may be onto something.

“There are my little angels!” She beams, gesturing for one of our employees to take over for her. She makes her way out to the dining area and holds her arms out for Alyssa and Charlotte.

“I’m not that little anymore,” I joke, both of my girls giggling as they snuggle against Gigi’s petite frame.

“I wasn’t talking about you, Andrew.” She glares playfully at me. “I raised you. I know from experience you are no angel.” She shifts her eyes back to Alyssa and Charlotte. “But you two… Well, you certainly are angels, and don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise. Capisci?”

“Capisci!” they both respond.

Even though Gigi is second-generation American, certain phrases have stuck over the years. It doesn’t matter that my great-grandfather has been gone for quite some time now. We still hold dear many of the traditions he began when he came to this country with barely a penny to his name—from our weekly Sunday dinner, to treating everyone who walks in those doors like a long-lost relative, to calling a colander a “spaghetti-a-stoppa-da-water-go-through”, as I learned he did during his life. And we still say it in a thick Italian accent, imitating him as best we can.

I beam with pride at Alyssa and Charlotte, hoping they’ll someday pass our stories and traditions on to the next generation. As I see the bond they share with their great-aunt Gigi, I know I’ve already passed on how important family is.

“Do you girls want a chocolate chip muffin before you go?” Gigi asks, peering at them with all the love in her heart. Like the rest of us, my darling aunt can be hardheaded and stubborn, but she’s fiercely loyal to her family. It doesn’t matter we aren’t technically her kids, that Alyssa and Charlotte aren’t technically her grandchildren. She still spoils them as any good grandmother would, with sweets, presents, and unrelenting adoration.

“Like they’ll say no to that,” I mumble as we follow her toward the display cases, showcasing every sugary concoction possible—muffins, pastries, cookies, cannolis. She ducks behind the counter and retrieves two muffins, handing one each to Alyssa and Charlotte.

“They need to enjoy their childhood. And that includes the occasional sweet.”

Crossing my arms in front of my chest, I roll my eyes. “It’s more than occasional around here.”

She shrugs, dismissing my comment as I glance around. There are several familiar faces, regulars who come to the café every day, even Saturdays. Some have been coming since my father ran the place before the Alzheimer’s took him. As grateful as I am for their loyalty, they’re not who I’m looking for. The only person I care about seeing is one stunningly beautiful brunette whose mere presence lately seems to make my heart beat a thunderous rhythm.

I look at my watch. 9:15. It’s not like Brooklyn to be late. She’s alarmingly punctual. Is she having second thoughts about ditching her wedding responsibilities today? I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t surprised that she not only called me yesterday afternoon, but is willing to put her relationship with her future mother-in-law and Wes at risk just to spend the day with me. This doesn’t sound like the Brooklyn I know. The one who always puts other people’s needs ahead of her own. Who always does what’s expected of