He didn’t really want to spill his guts when his conversation partner was a vault in need of prying open. But it felt so fucking good to say Gloria’s name out loud. “Since forever. She was a sophomore when we were seniors. Glenn was bad news back then, too.”

Harper rubbed her ribs. “Yeah, the years don’t seem to have mellowed him.”

“Heard you had quite the shiner.” Either she was skilled with makeup or was a fast healer because the greenish yellow bruising was barely visible.

“Please,” she snorted. “You should have seen the other guy.”

“Wish I would have been there.” He said it lightly, but that thought had kept him awake every night since. He’d wanted his shot at Glenn Diller. Wanted it more than anything. A vision of Gloria smiling shyly up at him crowded into his mind. Almost anything.

Diller deserved to burn for what he’d put that girl through. If the legal system wasn’t up to the task, He was.

“So, how long have you been into Gloria?” she asked, bringing him out of the dark thoughts.

Aldo blinked. Shit. “Since I heard her sing in the high school musical.”

Harper grinned, and he stared down at his water bottle.

“How did handsome football star Aldo not win the girl?” Harper asked.

His life’s regret. “I never took the shot,” he said with a sad shake of his head.

“Maybe now you can pull the trigger,” Harper said, elbowing him.

“I like the way you think, Harper.”

“Better bring your A-game to dinner Monday, sport,” she teased.

“Sport? Are you serious?” Aldo scoffed, already planning all the ways he could sweep Gloria off her feet.

“Let the lousy nickname contest begin,” she crowed.

6

Sara Parker’s kitchen was Gloria’s favorite place in the world. Pretty white cabinets that they’d spent a week painting together when she was nine formed a tidy L. The countertops were covered in cobalt tiles, mirrored in the pretty blue glasses and colorful dinner plates in the cabinets above.

The room was friendly and colorful, speaking to the character of her mother.

Gloria dipped a tortilla chip into the bowl of fresh salsa and moaned with pleasure as the notes of lime and cilantro melted on her tongue. It had been years since she’d last sampled her mother’s salsa. Glenn didn’t like anything with spice…or flavor really.

“Good?” Sara asked, producing a bottle of tequila from a cabinet.

“The best.”

“How did your secret errand go?” Her mother magically produced the ingredients for her infamous grapefruit margaritas, placing them neatly next to her industrial blender.