“Talk to him,” Gabe suggested with a shrug. “Preferably someplace other than in my store. I have work to do.”

She glanced around the dingy shop. “Yes, I see.”

He picked up a slip of paper from the counter. “An order.” He held it in front of her face. “To deliver today.”

“Andrew, let’s go.” Angi took a step toward the back room, then growled under her breath when the boy didn’t materialize. “I mean it.”

“Mom tone. Impressive.”

She shot Gabe another look and, despite his desire to avoid her, he felt one side of his mouth lift into a smile. Gabe didn’t have a lot of reasons to smile in life, so it felt unfamiliar. He liked the idea of getting under her skin the way she did to him, so when Andrew finally appeared in the doorway, Gabe shocked even himself by the words that came out of his mouth.

“If he doesn’t have much homework, he can stay. I’ll put you to work,” he said to the boy, whose eyes lit up like sparklers on the Fourth of July.

“Yes. Mom, please.”

Angi hissed out a breath. “You just told me you wanted to be rid of him.”

True enough. “Changed my mind,” Gabe told her.

“Because it bothers me that he’s here?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Do I bother you, cannoli?”

“Do not call me that.”

The golden flecks around the edges of her dark eyes flashed in pain, and Gabe almost felt guilty for using the nickname he knew she hated. Almost.

“Listen to your mom, kid,” Gabe told Andrew. “Go with her if that’s what she wants.”

She elbowed her way past and crouched down in front of her son. “You have to let someone know if you’re going to leave the restaurant after school.” Her tone had turned gentle, far softer than Gabe would have expected. “I didn’t know where you were, and I was worried, Drew.”

“You weren’t there after school,” he said, an accusation more than an observation.

“I’m sorry. I had to drop Nonna off at home after the doctor. But you can tell Dom or Annie or one of the other waitresses.”

The boy looked down at his scuffed sneakers. “I hate going to the restaurant after school. Nobody wants me there, and it always smells like meatballs.”

Gabe noticed the shift in Angi, the way her shoulders went rigid at Andrew’s words. Leave it to a child to have the ability to gut his mother without even trying.

“Nothing I can do about the meatballs,” she said with what Gabe guessed was fake cheer. “It’s only temporary that you’ll be at Il Rigatone. Remember that you chose not to go to the aftercare program at school.”

“I hate it there, too.”

Angi bowed her head, and Gabe suddenly felt he was witnessing a moment too intimate for the nature of their abrasive relationship.

“You know what a good remedy for hate is?” Gabe stepped forward. “Hard work. You can take out your anger on the dust bunnies in the corners.”