Feel the Heat (Hot In the Kitchen)

chapter Twenty-Three


For the second time in as many weeks, Lili almost crashed the Vespa. The first time she had been thinking about dinner and had failed to notice a car door suddenly opening along Ashland Avenue. Luckily, her hunger meant her usual carb-dazed reflexes were nowhere in evidence. Now she was on her way to her parents’ for dinner and had just swerved out of the way of an SUV that decided to do a last-minute lane change without signaling.

That time she’d been thinking about Jack.

Her chest hurt something awful with a pain she hadn’t experienced since she’d first heard the news of her mother’s cancer. Back then, after a couple of days spent wallowing, she’d put that behind her and got on with the business of living, or more specifically making sure her mother lived. Getting past Jack should be easier than that. There was nothing life-threatening about a broken heart.

Every night since he’d left, she’d tossed and turned, her body aching. Aching for the one person who could put her straight and do her right, the man she missed more each day instead of less. The smile that scrambled her brain; the sexy, lickable scar; even the atrocious singing, all part of Jack’s armory of slash-and-burn. She needed to force herself into a place where Jack didn’t exist, which was near impossible when every thought was filtered through her time with him. Every word she hadn’t said. Every decision not taken.

Once, she had threatened to leave all she knew, move to New York, live her life at full tilt. Francesca’s illness had changed all that and not in the way she liked to think. She might have fooled herself that the relief she felt when she spent her savings paying those medical bills stemmed from putting her mother onto the road to recovery, but it was just as much about helping herself. Giving Little Miss Do Nothing an exit strategy so she wouldn’t have to take that chance. She hadn’t even tried to find another way.

For the longest time, she had been stuck in a shell of her own creating. The overweight teen who lost the pounds but not the baggage. The artist who lived in the space behind her camera because the shadows felt safe. The good daughter who used her family to keep her grounded, and caged. She knew that. Hell, she lived it. Because no matter what way she parsed it, she was afraid of trying and failing.

Or trying and succeeding.

When she got to her parents’ house, she slipped around back to where they sat with Tad—and sigh, Marco—at the outdoor table, already set to bursting with a glorious spread. Without asking, her mother piled a plate high with ziti and put it before her.

After the taping, Marco had gone missing for several weeks, ducking all the burning questions Lili longed to ask about moonlighting as viral video producer and saboteur. Now her self-loathing kept him safe as she internalized all her anger and tried to focus.

“Well, where are we at?” Marco asked, glancing at his watch.

“We’ve definitely seen an uptick in reservations since news of the show taping got out.” Lili slid an oblique glance to her father, who sat stoic and unyielding. “With the broadcast of the show next week, we’ll probably see some additional business for a short time but it won’t last.”

“Unless we find a way to hold on to them,” Tad chimed in.

“If they like the food, they’ll come back,” her father shot back, his refrain familiar but tired. “We have steady customers now who return monthly, sometimes weekly.”

“Right, Dad, but we’re not getting any new blood. It’s not just about the food. It’s an environment, an ambience—”

“So, we should play loud music and baseball games over the bar?” Her father made a disgusted noise. “Those are not the type of customers we want.”

“Dad, we’re a neighborhood institution, but there’s a lot of competition, and we look like old hat. Tad and I have some ideas for a design makeover, maybe trim the menu so it’s not so overwhelming. Just a few touches to make it more modern. Appeal to how the neighborhood has changed.”

Tony’s gaze grew narrow and hard. “When you are in charge of the business, Liliana, you can make these decisions. Until then, you must abide by my rules.”

“Then why am I even here? You asked me to take over as manager when Mom became sick, but you second-guess every decision I make. Every suggestion I offer. There’s no trust there.”

“This is not about trust. It is about what is best for the family, something you don’t seem to know anything about.”

“Tony, don’t.” Her mother lay a soothing hand on her father’s arm, threw Lili an affectionate look, and dipped her maternal gaze to the ziti. Eat up, that’ll fix it. Lili had already lost her appetite. A heart-rending breakup and parental recrimination beat Atkins every time.

“Dad, if I could go back to that night in O’Casey’s and do it over, I—” She faltered. What would she do? Not goad Jack into losing control? Ignore that surge of power she felt when he looked into her eyes with such hunger? No, she wouldn’t change a thing. Kissing Jack in a crowded bar would remain with her as one of the most precious experiences of her life. It was the first step toward becoming New Lili. No one could take it away from her, least of all her father.

“Well, we cannot turn back time, Liliana.”

“No, we can’t, Dad, but we can move forward.”

“Tony, she’s right,” Marco said, sounding bored. “These days, it’s all about social media, online promotion, tapping into new user markets. Lili’s shenanigans have brought us a lot of attention. We need to build on that.”

Oh, that was just too much. Lili turned on him, fury finally overriding her sense. “Yes, let’s build on it, Marco, but next time, I’d appreciate it if you ask before you turn me into a marketing sensation.”

The atmosphere at the table frosted over as both Tad and her father ossified, their glacial gazes zoning in on Marco.

“Marco, explain,” her father said.

Throat working convulsively, he raised his hands and looked around. “You think…? No way. I didn’t put up the video.”

“Then who?” Lili asked, baffled.

“No idea. I might have encouraged the girls to be a little overzealous during the TV taping, but that was it.” His eyes locked with Lili’s, pleading for understanding. “Honestly, Lil. I’d never have done that. I mean, we’re friends. We’re more than friends.”

Her mind floundered and tears smarted her eyes. Down was up; east was west. Nothing made sense anymore. Swallowing her emotion, she forced her thoughts back to the present, aware that her father was watching her closely.

“I need a glass of water,” she mumbled, and fled to the kitchen before she lost her composure completely. She gripped the sink to prevent her body from folding in half.

Jack is gone.

Since driving him away, her heart had been stuck on a frenetic techno beat. Cardio without the fat-reducing benefits. Now it felt curiously dead, like it had given up the ghost after all that effort. She missed the pain.

A heavy footfall echoed behind her and she turned, expecting Tad leading the charge on Operation Comfort Lili. Surprise at seeing her father made her gulp.

“Piccola,” he said.

Just that one simple word and she burst into tears. No one called her that anymore. The nickname that meant “little one” lost its cuteness factor somewhere around the sixth grade. Her father’s hard strength enveloped and soothed her through her crying jag. For a wonderful, long time.

“Say the word and I will kill him. I know a guy.”

A semi-hysterical laugh ripped from her. Above the stress of her mother’s illness, the restaurant, and her strained bond with Tony, she had forgotten he had a sense of humor. How close they had once been and how alike they were.

“Dad, it’s not his fault. I know you didn’t think much of him, but he loved me very much. More than anyone ever has.”

“Not more than anyone.” He dropped a light kiss on her forehead. “If he loved you so much, why is he not here fighting for you?”

She couldn’t quite summon her usual front-it-out smile. “Maybe you scared him off.”

“He did not seem the type to scare easily,” he said. “I tried my best but he insisted on defying me.”

How could she possibly explain how inadequate she had felt in the face of Jack’s all-encompassing passion? Her father would dismiss her fears, saying they made her unworthy of being a DeLuca, though his tacit dismissal of her ambitions had gone some way to keeping her wounds festering for as long as they had. Still, blaming her problems on her daddy issues was a little too movie-of-the-week for Lili’s taste.

Her father picked up the conversational slack. “He said I’m too hard on you.”

Even now, an allusion to Jack defending her made her tingly and aware, like he was in the room supporting her in everything she did. Her champion, standing at her shoulder, encouraging her to be strong. She parted her lips to disagree, but her mouth had other ideas.

“You are.”

He gave her a long look and she held his gaze.

“Please, Dad, talk to me.”

His eyes turned rheumy. “When your mother became ill…” He coughed. Started over. “When your mother became ill, I was not the husband she needed. The thought of losing her almost destroyed me, but you, Liliana, you were so strong. Managing everything, keeping us all on schedule for your mother’s doctor appointments, taking over at the restaurant. I could not—we could not—have survived these last two years without you. I do not mean to be hard, but I have been so afraid of how my life would be if neither of you were here.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “I know the restaurant has suffered while I have been so weak. But the kitchen, it is where I feel the strongest, where I feel like myself. And to realize I have failed there, too, shames me. La cucina Italiana is my life and I couldn’t even win against Jack without cheating.”

He sighed so wearily that her heart listed.

“Dad, you haven’t failed. All our lives you’ve provided for us. Mom is better. That woman is not going anywhere and you’re going to have to get on board with that.” She rubbed his strong arm, the one that had never failed to comfort her as a child. “You are a great, great chef. The best. The problem is not the food. It’s just in the details. There’s so much more we could be doing. An online takeout menu, a food truck, drink and meal specials, small improvements that won’t change the fundamentals of who we are but that would keep us competitive.”

Head dipped, he placed his hands on the sink and took a moment. “Liliana, as well as failing as a husband, I have failed you as a father. I wanted you to always be here, working by my side, but for a while now, I’ve known you were meant for better things. You are far too beautiful and talented to be stuck in the restaurant.”

Her numbing heart sparked, and the pain of the past week lessened by the faintest degree. Now would be the time to lay it all out, dissect every hurt, revisit every sharp comment, demand satisfaction. But being held in her father’s unconditional grip was enough, his acknowledgment of her worth the satisfaction she needed.

“What do you want to do?” he asked, and she gulped because it was the first time he had ever asked.

“Make sure everyone knows how amazing the head chef at DeLuca’s in Wicker Park is and then”—she inhaled deeply—“graduate school, Dad. I don’t know when or where or how I’ll pay for it, but I’m going to do it. I have to. I’ll always be your daughter. Wherever I am, my heart will be here with you.” She had a life to plan. A life without Jack, but she could make it the life she dreamed of before she met him. Their time together had crystallized the realization that she deserved good things.

“I think your heart is somewhere else, Liliana.” He considered her carefully. “He asked me to collaborate with him on a cookbook.”

“Jack?”

He gave the barest shrug, the embodiment of Continental nonchalance. “Do you think he meant it or was he doing it to for other reasons?”

She supposed it was possible, but… “He meant it, Dad. He really admires you. And he’s too much of a perfectionist to risk attaching his name to something he doesn’t believe in. Kind of like you.” A wisp of hope blossomed in her chest. “You should do it. The world should have a chance to cook your fabulous gnocchi.”

Her father’s mouth turned up in a hint of a grin. Chefs were an egotistical bunch, and Jack Kilroy, crafty and not a little egotistical himself, knew that better than anyone.

“Tell me more about your ideas,” Tony said.

An hour later, a blueprint for survival was in place: Tad would draw up a stock inventory and control plan, Lili would get to grips with staffing and decor, her father would tackle the menu, and Marco would work on publicity. So much to do before the premiere of Jack of All Trades, but keeping busy would keep her idle heart from veering into devil territory.

The weight was lifting slowly from Lili’s shoulders, though she wasn’t sure she was ready to let it go. A burden can ground you just as much as it can weigh you down. Sometimes, it’s the only thing stopping you from flying away.

* * *

There was no answer to his knock at the DeLuca’s brownstone, and for a moment, Jack was at a loss for what to do next. The last couple of weeks had seen a distinct deterioration in his mental faculties. He would walk into the fridge in his new kitchen and forget what he needed. He would scroll through his phone contacts without a clue who he had planned to call. Some weird form of dementia had ravaged his brain. Breakup senility.

The sweet murmur of voices carried on the warm air, and he followed it through the side path to the back of the house. On the deck, his eyes fell on Lili’s bare, golden legs stretched out in front of her and his heart wrenched a response. Damn, he hadn’t been expecting that. As he rounded the railing, Jules spotted him.

“Hey, Jack.”

“Hi, Jules.”

He felt like he was walking through treacle, every step a dead weight. Nothing dead about his heart, unfortunately. It bounded about his chest like an excited puppy that had just spotted his owner. Fan-freaking-tastic.

The light from the twinkling tree lights cast an unearthly glow over Lili’s face, highlighting her discomfort. She pulled up to a stand and carefully backed away toward the house, as though worried he might force her into conversation.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” she murmured, barely audible above the twang of the screen door.

He sat on the patio sofa and let his hands stray to the warmth of the fabric where Lili had sat. Her lingering vanilla fragrance joined with the herbal scents from the garden, an olfactory salve that complemented this quiet haven in the middle of the city. In London and New York, there was no escaping the noise, but Chicago, a city of neighborhoods, offered pockets of peace for anyone who searched for it. No wonder his sister liked it here.

“Thought you were in Miami,” she said, breaking the silence he had been enjoying.

“I was. Now I’m here.” He settled back with an exhale and let his eyelids shutter closed. The idea of falling asleep under the stars appealed so much he opened his eyes before the wish came true. “At least I will be off and on for the next few weeks until the restaurant opens. Then I’m back to New York.” And she would be tucked away in London if he had his druthers.

She didn’t react. Just sat there with her hands clasped in her lap like they weren’t talking about her future. He didn’t know how to bridge the yawning emotional distance between them. The whispering night breeze and the rest should have conspired to make this the perfect spot for him to have a calm, reasoned conversation about her situation. Of course, she chose to deflect and talk about his situation.

“Lay it on me, big bruv. I’m all ears,” Jules said with not the least bit of irony.

“Pot, meet kettle.”

“You’re my brother, Jack. My overbearing, know-it-all brother. I can’t always talk to you, but you can talk to me. Let your lady feelings out.”

That dragged a smile from him, the first in a couple of weeks. His mouth hurt with the effort all the same. “You’re a cheeky little tart, you know. You’ve got a gob on you just like Mum.”

He knew she’d appreciate that, though that wasn’t why he said it. In the last month, he’d spent more time with Jules than he had in the last year, and he had forgotten how much he liked her. Lili had said to give her time, let her come to him, and he was trying. Really trying.

He took a good look at her for the first time since he’d sat down. Her face had filled out, evicting the wan, haunted appearance she’d sported on her arrival in Chicago. A steady diet of pasta and DeLuca TLC had done wonders. Moments ticked by in stultifying silence, which only worked to make every cell bubble in irritation. To hell with p-ssyfooting around the rusty can of worms. They were both going to need tetanus shots after this.

“Jules, all I’ve ever wanted was to be a good brother.” He could prod the guilt centers as well as anyone.

She looked surprised. “Jack, it’s okay. I know you feel like you owe me. When you left, I sulked and made you feel like crap.”

“Well, that’s what eight-year-olds do.”

“And I was a brat for several years after. I just missed you. You said you were going to apply for my guardianship when you turned eighteen and when you didn’t”—her voice stumbled on her emotion—“I thought you had given up on me.”

Those words corkscrewed into his heart. “I truly believed you were better off with your aunt and uncle. After your dad died, you needed stability and I couldn’t offer that, but there was never any question of how much I loved you.”

Her condemning silence punched him hard in the gut, and he struggled to recover his calm. And he thought he could beat her at the guilt game. Amateur. He couldn’t change the past, but he could fix the future. “The jobs, Jules. The rut you seem to be stuck in.”

“We can’t all be big shots,” she said impatiently. “You’ll just have to face it that you have a dud for a sister.”

“Why do you say that? You’re sharp as a tack. I don’t get why you don’t want something better. By this point you must have some idea what you want to do with your life.”

She made a hand-shrug. “What’s better than free drinks, no responsibilities, and getting to sleep in till three in the afternoon?”

Was she trying to send him over the precipice? He stared at her until she dropped her gaze.

“I’m not cut out for those jobs in fancy restaurants,” she said quietly.

“Why? You take reservations on the phone. You show people to tables. Maybe you jot down some drink orders. What’s so hard about that?”

She ignored him and studied her tightly clasped hands.

“What’s so hard about it?” The exasperation in his voice was intensifying, and he tried to dial it down. Be patient with her. Don’t bully her. Especially don’t argue with her about getting a suitable job when they both knew he was going to do his damnedest to pay for his sins and keep her job-free for the foreseeable future. It was the principle of the thing.

Still freezing him out, she knuckled the corner of one eye. There was something important here and he tried to grasp on to it without losing his cool.

“Anyone can do that job, Jules. I know I push, but surely you don’t hate me that much.”

Finally, that elicited a response that wasn’t blasé. “Jack, I don’t hate you.”

“It certainly feels like it sometimes. I’ve no idea why you came to me. Why you left London in such a hurry. You won’t tell me anything. I set you up with interview after interview. I try to help and you throw it back in my face.”

She gripped the arm of the sofa. “Like I said, I just can’t do those jobs. I’m not good enough.”

If she had told him she was thinking of joining a nunnery, it wouldn’t have shocked him more. “Good enough? You could do those hostess jobs with your eyes closed.”

“They may as well be closed for all the good they do me.”

“What does that mean?”

Her swallow was so hard it sounded like she had gulped down a golf ball. “I need to pee. I need to pee all the time.” She stood, tears streaming down her face. All hopped up on baby hormones was his best guess.

“Jules.” He reached for her but she skirted him like his touch could burn and headed into the house. Something about what she’d said poked at him, the important thing he was missing just on the edge of his consciousness.

With purpose in his stride, he followed her. This ended here, or it would if he could get by Lili, who stood sentry. Her raised hand stopped a couple of inches before his chest.

“Give her a moment. She’s been pretty emotional the last couple of days.”

He looked over her shoulder into the inviting, homey kitchen, the heart of Casa DeLuca, where his sister’s heart felt at ease. Another few steps and he would feel the warm splay of Lili’s palm on his chest. For some reason, that enraged him beyond all sense.

“I know I can’t possibly compete with the DeLucas when it comes to happy families,” he said, unable to keep the vitriol out of his voice, “but that’s my bloody sister and she’s going to talk to me whether she wants to or not.”

“Of course,” she said in a reasonable tone that immediately deflated him. She stood back to let him by, and he walked in, feeling like a prize idiot for getting his nose out of joint. Despite the knock-back, he loved that about her. How she held no truck with his moods, how a single look could cut him down to size.

“Slow down and listen to her. Getting frustrated is not going to help,” she said, still as reasonable as all get-out.

“Oh, shut up,” he jabbed back, just to see if he could still make her smile. He could and that knowledge pierced like a knife in his heart.

“How are you?” she asked.

Oh no, they were not doing this.

“Busy with the restaurant.” He waved a hand to fill in the rest. Full sentences needed full breaths and he was having a hard time inflating his lungs to speaking capacity. The two women he loved more than life itself didn’t need him, and hell, that hurt like a mother.

Unable to look at her, he turned away from the pain to find Jules in the doorway to the living room, her eyes red-rimmed and going back and forth between them. Lili offered her a glass of water and Jules accepted it with trembling hands.

“I’d sell this kid for a vodka martini if I could.” At his raised eyebrow, she rolled her eyes, then finished off the water in a couple of swift gulps.

“Tell me what you meant about your eyes being no good.” He held back, his arms taut at his sides instead of crossed, trying to project nonthreatening body language. He’d read it in a book once.

“Just my usual backchat,” she mumbled.

“No, it wasn’t.”

She rinsed the glass in the sink and cast her nervy gaze about in search of a dishtowel. Or a way out of this conversation. With care, she turned the glass over on the draining board.

“Jules, he only wants the best for you,” Lili said.

He could feel Lili’s pitying gaze prickling his cheek, but he refused to look at her, preferring to focus on his sister. “Talk to me, baby girl.”

The endearment softened her face but all the tension transferred to her hands, now grasping the edge of the sink. The silence sat weighted but he let it ride.

“I can’t read all that well.”

“Because you need glasses?” he asked, confused. She did squint a lot.

“It’s not my sight. I wish it was.” She ducked her head and her speech streamed in low tones. “I stare at the words and sometimes I can see a picture of it. But other times, it means nothing and it takes forever to figure it out, if I can at all. The worst is names because I can’t imagine anything. By the time I work out what table to bring someone to, they’d be dead from hunger.”

He swore the room tilted. This could not be…His next words sounded like they came from a spot two feet to his right. “When did this start happening?”

She gave a defeated shrug. “It’s always been like this. I muddled through in school until I was old enough to leave.”

His sister couldn’t read.

She hated texting. She didn’t have an e-mail address. How had he not known this?

“Did you know about this?” he asked Lili, who shook her head slowly. The surprise on her face confirmed her response.

“Why didn’t Daisy and Pete tell me?” In answer, Jules dragged her teeth along her quivering lower lip. “You mean they don’t know?”

“I could get by with copying other people’s work in class. Badly. I’d usually fail all the tests.” He had known she never did well in school but her aunt said it didn’t matter. The world can never have enough hairdressers, she’d announce in that malevolent East End accent. He had despaired but then bought into the presented narrative that she was lazy because it was easier than making the effort. The failure he had felt then rose up to choke his throat now.

All his pain—and hers—reflected back from her shining eyes. “So, it doesn’t matter how many interviews you set up or how many jobs you try to get for me. I’m too stupid.”

His heart, lately fragile at best, broke at last. All this time, she had been alone, coping with this terrible burden. If only someone had paid more attention to her in school, if only he had visited more often, if only she had asked for his help.

If only could take a running jump. From here on out, there was only Jules.

He wrapped himself around her, willing her stiff frame to relax into him. “You are not stupid, baby girl. You’re my amazing, gorgeous, funny, clever, and incredibly annoying sister. You can do anything you want.”

“Except hold down a decent job or read a book without giving up two sentences in or have sex without getting preggo.” With every self-accusation, he grasped her tighter. “Oh, God, Jack. I was on the pill, I swear. But sometimes I get confused and miss a day. I’m so ashamed.”

“I wish you had told me. Everything.”

She didn’t answer, just sank into him more. This is what comes of being a bloody optimist. He expected so much of people that his own sister couldn’t confide in him, fearful of his disappointment.

“Jack, I’m worried about the baby. What if he’s got th-this same thing I have?”

“What if he does?” It sounded like a learning disability, dyslexia perhaps. He would get her diagnosed and hire tutors or whatever was necessary to make this better. Make it right. Drawing back, he cradled her face in his hands.

“Now, I know you don’t want to hear this, but for the love of everything that’s holy, would you please, please let me help you?” He just wanted someone he cared about to let him love them. His world had been upended by her revelation, then righted again as he realized what he was dealing with. He would fix this because that’s what he did, but for the moment he would give her what she needed most. He would hold her and never let her go.

“Jack, you don’t have to—”

“I know I don’t. I want to and you know what I’m like when I don’t get what I want.”

Her eyes flew wide, shiny and filled with something he hadn’t seen before. Hope.

Supporting her would be his highest priority, and his thoughts tumbled over each other, his mind racing with everything he needed to do. First on the list, a chat with Evie.

“And you won’t send me away?” she whispered against his shoulder.

“No, you’re stuck with me. Wherever you are, I am.”

Turning his head, he sought out Lili, but the spot of tile she had occupied a moment ago was empty. She had stepped up to the plate to help, then receded back into the shadows. Just like always.