Maybe he wouldn't be able to resist me if I went to him in the middle of the night in one of those floaty Hollywood style nightdress things, all feathers and lace. But most likely he'd just give me a spare sweater to stop me from getting cold. And I'd feel like a total fool.
Which is probably why I've never tried it.
The trouble is, all the boys at school seemed so immature compared to him, and the guys who got hooked into the kind of deals Dad still dabbles in think they're all that and then some, but I already know five times over that there is never anything good that come out of selling knock off designer handbags or beating people up when they can't pay money owed.
I've had a lot of practice dealing with guys like those idiots who thought that just because I wasn't destined to be America's Next Top Model, I'd do anything they wanted. I hate that all they see when they look at me is an easy lay. And now Tony knows they all think that, maybe he'll think it's true too. It would be for half the girls in my graduating class.
It just makes it so much worse that he got up in their faces making out like he was defending my honor. I had a pathetic little rush of hopefulness when he called me his, but I know he didn't mean that the way that I wanted him to. Even though it felt kind of good to see the fear in their eyes when he called them out, it doesn't change anything. How could he really mean any of that? He's just being nice, looking out for me, same as always.
That's one thing that never changes. Tony is always so nice to me. But he could have any woman he wanted. He's so much older than me and about a million lightyears out of my league.
My Dad and him grew up on the same block, so he tells it, only Tony's Italian and back then, that meant he had a way into the kind of world where favors were done and things just happened. I guess it's not so different now either.
He's been real good to my Dad over the years though, making sure the bakery Dad pours all his energy into never gets shaken down for any protection money. Tony has always done good by us, even though Dad sometimes makes it out as if he'd have done way better on his own. I know that isn't true. Around here, you gotta have the right people on side and Tony is definitely the kinda guy you want as a friend.
I'd have him as so much more than a friend in a heartbeat.
My Dad's loyalty has always flip-flopped, he's always looked out for number one. The bakery always comes first. In high school he never cut me any slack, making sure I was in at the crack of dawn every day right alongside him, prepping the bread for the day.
Tony's different. He always has been. Even if Dad doesn't see it, I do. But I know he’s always been good to me because he’s Dad's friend.
Only, lately, it feels like now it's not just Dad that keeps him coming around to the bakery. He's been coming in first thing every day since I started there full time after graduation. Everything seems to have changed as soon as high school finished.
Tony turned up to my graduation party with a cake that I hadn't had to make myself, and it was like he saw me for the very first time. I'd been obsessing over the idea that maybe he saw me as more than just Dad's dumpy kid ever since that party. He was the only one to congratulate me on being valedictorian. The only one to ask me what I wanted to do with my life.
But it wasn’t like I had much of a choice. I knew there was no money for college. Not unless it was catering school, but that's Dad's dream, not mine. I've spent way too long being teased about being a big girl because I ate all the cookies and every shift at the bakery reminds me of that day after day. I want to leave it all behind me.
In my fantasies, I'm Tony's wife. And the only baking I do is for my future kids and my future husband. While I take these amazing pictures that people line up around the block to buy from me. It's more than a hobby, more than the million of pictures I’ve taken on my old camera: I'm successful, it's a real career.
I crumple down to the floor, leaning back against my bedroom door when I close it behind me and try to steady my breathing. I've always felt so pathetic knowing that every time I close my eyes the face of the man by my side for the rest of my life is Tony's. I can only imagine what Dad would say.
But I didn’t imagine what Tony said downstairs. I didn’t. He called me his, and said it like he really meant it.
What if all that staring he's been doing lately isn't because I've made an idiot out of myself wearing a skirt that's too short or because I'm covered in flour? My heart rate rockets at just the possibility and I feel lightheaded and jittery with the idea of it. What if I'm wrong about the kind of woman he wants in his life?
What if he really does want me?
CHAPTER THREE
Tony
Libby Brockman's name is carved into my heart and it has been since the day I saw her after her graduation. Somehow all the times I'd looked at her before and seen Kyle's kid suddenly melted away and there was this beautiful woman looking happier than I'd ever seen her, smiling at me like I was exactly who she wanted to be there.
I'd brought her a dumb cake with
