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“It’s okay if you have,” he says, seriously. “You can tell me.”

“We are running smoothly,” I say. “Trust me. I just have to follow your recipes, right?”

“I would trust you, Jake, but you were fifteen minutes late this morning,” he reminds me. Again.

“Yeah, you can blame your sister for that, man.”

“Why?”

I clear my throat. “Anyway, thanks for calling and checking in, but I assure you, we’re fine. By the way, people are loving these new hot sauce-flavored sugar cookies I threw out on a whim today. They’re gonna be a hit.”

There’s a long pause. “Is that a joke?”

I smirk, jabbing his one weakness. “Bye, Vin.”

I hang up. The crowd has thinned out somewhat, and I take a deep breath to relax. I glance at my watch again. This place seems to have the same spikes and lulls as Hot Sauce did. I’ll take the mini victory.

My cell phone vibrates in my pocket. I sneak a peek at it, hoping for a nice, encouraging message from Anna.

Don’t screw this up.

Translation: I can kill you with a whisk.

I sigh, laughing softly. I wonder how long it’ll take before Vincent Silva actually trusts me.

Maybe I’ll fair better once he finds out we’re going to be brothers-in-law.

I bite my cheek, thinking back over the last few months of my life. Four months ago, my life was unrecognizable. I’m not who I used to be, not by a long shot. It wasn’t even a conscious choice, either, and it certainly didn’t happen overnight.

Still, there’s a piece of myself that feels incomplete. A loose end dangling from the edge.

“Hey, Trudy, I need to make a call,” I tell her. “Let me know if you get backed up, okay?”

“You got it, boss!”

I smile and walk into the back. I stop and lean against the sink, staring at my phone in my hands for a several minutes before building up the courage to just do it. Will it be different this time? Or will I feel that same regret and anguish I always did before?

Finally, I force myself to dial his number. The line rings twice, each sound burrowing deep into my brain as I keep it all together.

“Hello?” he answers.

“Lance, it’s me,” I say.

I hear a soft murmur on the other end, shortly followed by the sound of a latching door.

“Hey, brother.” He clears his throat. “It’s been a few months.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” I say. “I’ve been busy.”

“To be honest, I never expected to hear from you again. Thought maybe you were sitting in a cell somewhere, staring at a blank wall and talking to yourself,” he jokes.

I laugh. “Nah — well, almost, but I got lucky.”

“As usual,” he says with a chuckle. “So, what’s going on? You need more legal advice?”

“No, I just wanted to catch up.”

He pauses. “Catch up?”