Chapter 8
695 Words
Gina
The weekend had flown by. Thank God Zander hadn’t tried contacting me through social media.
Still, I was dreading walking into Mario’s coffee shop. What if Zander was there?
I stepped inside, the familiar tinkle of the little bell announcing my arrival.
“Ah, Gina! You didn’t come to the family dinner yesterday,” Mario pouted.
“Sorry, Mario. You know how it is. But I made you your favorite,” I said, handing him a ziplock bag of my homemade pizzelles.
“Ah, Gina, you know the way to this old man’s heart,” he said, opening the bag and popping a pizzelle into his mouth.
“Oh, Mario, you flatter me!” I laughed.
“Ah, so that’s what gets your attention—an old man’s compliments,” a voice said from behind the counter.
“Zander, aftó ítan agenés!” Mario said, scowling. (That was rude.)
“It’s okay, Mario. Your son can speak his mind. And Zander, no—an old man’s compliments don’t get my attention. I was respectful to your father from where I come from,” I said, looking him squarely in the eye.
Zander appeared from the back room, a to-go coffee cup in hand.
“I believe the cinnamon latte is your usual, isn’t it?” he said, handing me the cup.
“Are you stalking me? Look, I felt bad Friday—it looked like your date was a disaster, so I sent you that drink. There was nothing more, okay?” I said.
He looked at me, then glanced at his father before reaching into the bag to grab one of my pizzelles. He took a bite.
“Very tasty,” he said.
I rolled my eyes. “Zander, not impressed. Thanks for the latte. Mario, see you later.” I left the shop, placing money on the counter.
⸻
Zane
I had to chuckle as I watched Gina leave my father’s coffee shop. Most girls would have swooned—just like that—but not Gina.
A sharp tap on the back of my head made me jump. My father had hit me.
“You’re an i***t! Gina isn’t someone you can just woo with a ‘hello,’” he scolded.
“I’m figuring that out, Papa. She’s definitely not what I’m used to,” I admitted.
“Gina is a good girl—honestly, too good for you. She’s the type you marry, not play hanky-panky with. And we both know you don’t want to marry this type of girl,” he said, returning to chopping vegetables for salads.
“You’re right, Papa. I don’t want to marry—but maybe I need something different for a change,” I said.
“If you hurt her, I will hurt you—son or not. Leave the girl alone,” he warned.
⸻
I stepped into my office, and Sarah immediately caught my attention.
“Mr. Preston, Natalie has been trying to call several times. The switchboard is getting overwhelmed,” she said.
“I ended things with her. Not surprised,” I replied. “How many people are working the phones?”
“Four,” she answered.
“Jill, Andrea, Carla, and…?” I prompted.
“Gina,” she said.
“Ah, Gina. Send each of the ladies some flowers with a sorry note from me. Also, see if you can send them something from Morton’s Steakhouse. The least I can do is cover lunch for putting up with crazy Natalie today,” I instructed.
“I’m glad you’re done with that craziness. I’ll handle it,” Sarah said.
“You know, Gina was the one who accidentally let Natalie’s call through the other day, right?” I asked.
“Yes. She’s also the one from the hard stock issue,” Sarah confirmed.
“On Gina’s flowers, the note should be from me,” I added.
“Mr. Preston… be careful, please,” she warned.
“It’s not that bad. Something simple—like, now you know why I didn’t want her phone calls going through,” I said with a shrug.
Sarah sighed but nodded. “I’ll handle it.”
- Writer
