“Angi, your mom shouldn’t be able to forbid you to do whatever makes you happy.”

“I’m too tired to even think about happy at the moment,” she shot back, and then grimaced. “I’m sorry, Gabe. Today isn’t about me or my problems. How are you holding up?”

He swallowed. “It’s easier because of you.”

Her features gentled, as if she could hear all the things he wasn’t saying. “Who would have thought we’d end up as friends in all this?”

Friends. A simple word but more powerful than Gabe could have imagined. He might want more from Angi than friendship, but he wouldn’t deny how much it meant to have that from her.

He went to the prep sink and started to wash his hands. “Put me to work,” he said over his shoulder. “How can I help?”

“You still have guests,” she reminded him, pointing to the swinging kitchen door.

“They’ll entertain themselves.” He grabbed a towel that hung from the oven door and turned. “I want to be here with you, Ang.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

ANGI ENTERED MARIELLA’S store a few days later, a stack of flyers promoting next week’s holiday dance in her hand. She’d already distributed one batch to local business owners, but several had called and texted asking for more.

Avery was handling online ticket sales through the mayor’s office. She’d reported that they’d already sold enough to cover their expenses and it seemed promising that they’d be in a position to make a hefty donation after the event. Angi appreciated that at least one area of her life seemed to be on track.

She smiled at two customers perusing a rack of dresses—a mother-and-daughter duo based on the family resemblance. If only her relationship with her mom could be that simple. Other than family trips to visit relatives along the eastern seaboard, Angi couldn’t remember ever doing something with her mom just for fun.

Oh, they’d had the requisite shopping trips during Angi’s teen years for clothes and prom dresses. Her brothers and dad had ensured that the energy in the house was predominantly masculine, but her mom made sure the boys grew up knowing they had to give Angi her privacy and, more importantly, put down the toilet seat after their time in the bathroom.

But even shopping with her mom had been a lesson in efficiency instead of a fun bonding time. The restaurant and Bianca’s responsibilities there had always been a factor. She’d have an hour or two between the lunch crowd and dinner rush during Il Rigatone’s heyday. No time to stop for ice cream or to browse for something other than what was essential during any particular excursion.

If Angi wanted quality time with her mother or to have a real conversation, it had to happen in the kitchen. Maybe that’s why cooking was such an inherent part of her now. She couldn’t imagine a life that didn’t revolve around food, despite her concern about missing out on things with Andrew because of her job. Her multiple jobs.