Before You Break

“I . . . um . . . I know him,” I said, trying not to sound so thunderstruck. I would have never guessed I’d see Qui

Walking over, I raked my fingers through my hair to remove any flour residue and silently cursed myself for not changing out of my faded jeans and T-shirt.

A cup of coffee and a piece of cherry pie sat in front of Qui

“Is that your favorite flavor pie?” I tried to control my quavering voice at the thrill of ru

His eyes roved over the landscape of my body from the top of my head down to my worn red sneakers. “From here, it is.”

“So you’ve been here before?” I looked around to make sure I hadn’t said that louder than I’d intended.

“Yeah, a few times,” he said, adjusting his cap on his head. I noticed how his russet strands curled around his ears. My fingers itched to touch them. “You know the owner?”

“We’re related,” I said. “My aunt and uncle own this joint.”

“Small world, huh?” he said as he looked around the place, as if for the first time—taking in the old world fixtures, the menu on the chalkboard, and something seemed to click in place in his mind. Maybe Joel had told the guys about my family background.

“Tell me about it,” I said while he studied the kitchen and counter staff. “How come we’ve never run into each other before?”

“Good question.” He turned his warm gaze on me and it heated me from the inside. “So, how long have you been home?”

“A couple of days,” I said. “You?”

“Same.” He was playing with the saltshaker, making wide circles, like he was trying to work something out in his brain.

I heard the clucking of my mother’s tongue behind me. She could make her presence known just by walking through a room. Her thick black hair was always worn in a bun, and she asserted an ample figure. I’d always prayed I’d get her boobs and not her hips. But I’d been blessed with both. Not that my mother was overweight. She was just all woman.

The only girl in a family of boys, it’d been hard dealing with my brother’s relentless teasing about my bra size. Unless someone outside the family tried it. Then they were protective to a fault—especially Christopher. He’d gotten his ass beaten once defending me when a senior tried to cop a feel in front of the lockers at the gym.

“Darling daughter,” my mother said, rolling her Rs dramatically. I used to be embarrassed of our eastern European background, because we didn’t sound anything like my friend’s parents. Now I cherished how unique our family was. “Who’s your friend?”

“Qui

“Nice to meet you, dear,” Mom said, extending her hand. “A friend of Joel’s is a friend of ours.”

Qui

“Thank you,” he said, recovering quickly. Before reaching out to shake her hand, he apologized about his appearance. “Sorry, I’ve been working on my car all morning. It’s hard to get all the grease from beneath my nails.”

Mom gave him a warm smile. I could tell she liked his ma

“Yes, just over in Jefferson.”

“So you’re home to celebrate the holiday with your family?” I almost nudged Mom with my foot for prying too much, but I had to admit, I was curious myself.

Besides, Mom wouldn’t have listened anyway. She loved to interfere in other people’s business. Especially my friends’. That’s why she’d allowed Avery to practically live at our house the last year of high school. We were all in the haze of grief, and having Avery there broke us out of our fog from time to time.

“Actually, my parents were called away on business last-minute, so it’ll just be me and my pie.” His head dipped down, discomfort and irritation in his eyes. Something lurched for him deep in my gut. “My father is the state representative for district eighteen, so there are always fund-raisers to attend. I chose to take a break from it this year.”

Before I could open my mouth my mother beat me to the punch. “Then you’ll come celebrate the holiday with us.”

Qui

“I insist,” Mom said before he could get his sentence out.

She must have felt the same way I had. It wasn’t pity, just sadness. Qui

“Um,” Qui

“Why not?” I shrugged. “Besides, we’re bringing home lots of dessert from the diner.”

His cheek quirked into a grin. “I do love these pies.”

“Plus, my mom has been slaving in the kitchen all morning creating a feast,” I said, trying to sell him on the idea. I didn’t want him to be alone. At least I told myself that was the only reason. “I think you’ll enjoy it.”

“Okay, sure,” he said. “How can I pass up great food?”

“Then it’s settled.” Mom placed her hand on my shoulder. “How about you help your friend find our house? I’ll meet you back there.”

She didn’t even wait for a response. Figuring she had the details all worked out, she walked off, proud of herself. I sighed and looked up at the counter where my auntie stood, spying on the conversation. She gave a quick wink before turning back to load the coffee machine.

“My mom didn’t give you much choice in the matter,” I said, slinking down in the booth. “But is it okay if I drive with you? If not, I can always catch her in the parking lot.”

“Actually, it would be great if you joined me,” he said after eating the last bite of his pie. “It’d be better than me walking in alone. I’m guessing you have a large family?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty big,” I said. “Sorry she put you on the spot. You might not like being around a bunch of rowdy relatives speaking two different languages.”

“Nah, it’ll be cool. Just not something I’m used to,” he said. “My family is small. And we don’t get together with relatives all that much anymore.”

I couldn’t imagine how that felt; I was so used to the chaos of my own family.

“Listen, I’m still dirty from working on my car,” he said looking down at his T-shirt. “Mind if I go home and change real quick?”

“Not at all,” I said. My stomach got all fluttery thinking about how I’d be spending time with Qui

“So you finally found time to get back to your hobby, huh?” I said, recalling our conversation about restoring cars at the fund-raiser event.

He ducked his head as he dug out his wallet and a hint of a smile outlined his lips. “Something like that.”

Qui

I hopped in the passenger side of his car, noticing the polished leather seats, the spotless floor and dashboard. “I get the honor of riding in your classic car. I see you take very good care of her.”

A spark of pride flashed in his eyes as he backed out of the space. “This one’s my baby.”

I pulled the seat belt over my chest. “Does she have a name?”

He laughed. “Isn’t naming your car kind of lame?”

“No way, you need to call her something,” I said, checking out the vintage door handles. “Give me time to come up with one.”

“Not making any guarantees that I’ll use it, but go for it.” Qui