“Yeah, truly delicious.” Paul and Diego echo my compliments. “Amazing recipe.”

“And how is yours?” I ask Julia.

She narrows her eyes at me. “Healthier, for sure.”

Uh-oh, someone sounds a little sour…

Twelve

Better Eat Your Vegetables

Luckily, lunch continues with no further interrogations. But when the meal’s over and everyone has had coffee—except for Julia, who opted for a fennel infusion—I’ve already had enough of the family reunion, so I take the excuse of showing Diego around town to get the hell out of the house.

“Congratulations, you survived the first drill,” I tell Diego as we exit the car and stroll toward the town’s center.

Downtown is not that impressive, just a road with shops and restaurants on either side. But with the snow crunching under our feet and fairy lights dangling from every tree and shop window, I have to admit the Christmas flourish makes it prettier than usual.

“Mmm, I don’t think your dad was a fan of my job,” Diego says, offering me his arm.

“Don’t worry, he won’t have time to try to turn you into an accountant,” I reassure him, linking our arms together. “Five more days and you’ll never see him again.”

“Right.” Diego’s face doesn’t look relieved.

“Come on, I promise I’ll keep my dad off your back.” I pull him toward the main shopping street. “Ready to dive into my past?”

Diego nods and follows me obligingly around town as I show him all the local attractions.

***

“And I worked at that café for two years when I was sixteen to eighteen,” I say about half an hour later. I kept my favorite coffee house for last. “Hot chocolate? They make the best in town with melting marshmallows and a side of cookies.”

Diego rubs his hands in a warming gesture. “You had me at hot.”

Old Saybrook is only two hours north of Manhattan, but the climate is considerably more frigid up here; even a short time outside is enough to freeze one’s ass over.

I push my way into the shop, making the little bell over the door chime in greeting. If the atmosphere was Christmassy outside, in here it looks like a drunken elf threw up all over the place. But not even the Christmas overload and cheesy tunes can keep me from enjoying the best chocolate ever brewed.

“Nikki,” Mrs. Cravath, my former employer, greets me. “So good to see you! And who is this young man?” She eyes Diego from behind the counter with sparkly eyes.

“Hello, Mrs. Cravath. This is Diego, my boyfriend,” I introduce.

“Oh, how wonderful. See? I was right, and they were wrong,” she says, and I have absolutely no clue what she’s talking about. “Dora owes me one of her famous pumpkin pies.”

“Excuse me?” I say.

“Your mom and your old crone of an aunt always complain you’re never going to find a man. But I told them how wrong they were and bet Dora a pie you’d be married before forty, which is the new thirty.” She winks at me.