A low moan of appreciation hummed out of him, and Angi felt pride flush through her.

“It’s so good,” he said. “Different than how it is at the restaurant, though. A little tangier.”

She nodded and glanced over his shoulder. “I put in a dash of vinegar. My mom doesn’t know, but I think it adds a richer complexity to the sauce.”

“You don’t make that change for your customers?”

“Il Rigatone uses my great-grandmother’s recipe, the one that she passed down to her daughter who passed it down to my father. It’s our family tradition.”

“And you want something different?”

“Yes.” She knew he was speaking about the sauce, but the gentle manner in which he asked the question made her want to tell him more. To share that for years she’d dreamed of making her way in the world. How leaving Magnolia had been hard but necessary. The fact that she’d locked away every selfish desire she had when Andrew came into the world. Her son was her whole world, but now she feared she’d convinced herself of that because she didn’t have anything else. Emma had given her a chance for something new—pushed her into believing she could have more.

And now she was back to making the recipes that were part of her history and sneaking in ingredients while her mother’s back was turned or throwing new specials on the menu when they wouldn’t be discovered, as those were her only ways to assert her independence. And hiding wasn’t any kind of freedom.

“Who would win in a fight?” Andrew asked, and Angi startled and took a step back. “Deadpool or Wolverine?”

“That’s a tough one,” Gabe said without taking his eyes off Angi. Once again, she knew he wasn’t just talking about action heroes. He turned to Andrew and held out a hand to take one of the figurines from her son. “Now if I was going to choose a guy to have at my side in a fight, I’d pick Captain America. He’s not always running his mouth and he avoids violence as a rule, but you know he’s got your back when it counts.”

Andrew studied the two plastic men, clearly processing everything Gabe had said. “I’d pick Wolverine.”

Gabe quirked a brow at Angi. “Want to weigh in with an opinion?”

“I’m going with Wonder Woman,” she said. “She’s still the best.”

“Mom.” Andrew groaned. “It’s not even the same universe.”

“Then I want to live in the universe with Wonder Woman.”

“I think you already do,” Gabe said, and then proceeded to engage in a detailed discussion about superheroes with her son.

Had he just subtly compared her to Wonder Woman? Oh, boy. She needed to keep her head on straight around this one and remember that nothing that happened between them—or anything she felt for him—was real.

They ate dinner in the dining room with Angi regularly cringing or groaning as her mother shared embarrassing details about her childhood with Gabe. As if he cared to hear any of that.