He laughed. “Well, I have that pasta machine. That helps. My grandma used to make it all by hand.”
“Is that who you learned it from?”
“Yeah. Grandma made the pasta and grandpa made the sauce. I watched them enough to learn how they did it.” He dropped a few more strands of spaghetti into the boiling water, stirring them around with the pasta rake. “They were first generation immigrants from Italy. Moved here before they had kids. They both knew a little English before they got here, but they learned it pretty quickly, they said. Grandpa had always wanted to live here—the land of promise, he said.”
“That’s cool. I barely knew my grandparents.”
“They were my dad’s parents. My grandma passed when I was thirteen. My grandpa only lasted another couple of years after that. It killed him. My mom’s parents live on the east coast, so I only met them once or twice.”
“You don’t talk to them now?”
He shrugged and focused on the pot, fishing out strands of cooked pasta. “No. I don’t talk to any of my family nowadays.”
Kory had no room to talk…she didn’t talk with anyone considered family—not that she would want to. Her mother had pretty much wrecked any chance of a relationship with any of those people. Kory could remember her grandma, but the woman had died when she was still young. She had since wondered if the fact that her mother had no parents or close ties was why she’d been such a shitty parent herself. Whatever the case, Kory wasn’t about to judge Stone or even question his decision. She knew Tina and Lacey were tight with their parents, and Tina’s mom often treated Kory like another daughter, but it wasn’t the same.
They were quiet for a few minutes, and Kory’s stomach grumbled, smelling the sauce that had been simmering all afternoon and the fresh pasta intermingling together in his roomy kitchen. She started rinsing the cherry tomatoes in the sink so she could toss them in the salad and she knew she should look him in the eye when she asked the question, but she didn’t. “So what’s this huge secret, Stone?”
“What do you mean?”
“The one you have hidden in your basement. The one you’re not ready to tell me about.”
He plopped the rest of the pasta in the water, not looking at her either. “I’m still not ready to tell you, Kory.”
“Why not? I’ve told you some pretty harsh stuff about my life.”
He was quiet for a couple of minutes. “I’m glad you did…that you trusted me enough to tell me. That’s not it with me. I trust you. I just don’t want you looking at me differently once you know.”
She took a deep breath, tossing the salad together, and then started mixing the ingredients together for the dressing, using the recipe Stone had handed her earlier. “Why would I look at you differently? You know I—” Actually, no, he didn’t know how she felt about him, and it wasn’t until that second that she realized just how much she cared about him.
He didn’t catch her hesitation, probably because he was concerned. “Just give me a little more time, Kory. I trust you completely. I’m just not ready to share this.” He grabbed her hand, forcing her to look at him, and he consumed her in a kiss.
Fine. She could wait a little longer.
She didn’t have to wait too terribly long. It was August, before her birthday—hot and blazing, the summer’s final hurrah before letting go and allowing cooler temperatures to grace the land. Kory had been out of classes for a couple of weeks and was enjoying the break before starting the fall semester.
One Wednesday—her night off—she walked to the tattoo shop. Stone was expecting her, and she was going to spend the night that evening. She felt like they’d moved into more serious territory, because he’d bought her a few things to leave there—a hairbrush, a robe, razors, all the things she complained about forgetting to bring. They’d stopped by the drugstore one block away from the shop one Saturday and walked around, grabbing things here and there. The robe had been a surprise. Kory hadn’t been big on wearing them, but she realized it was probably because she’d never had one before.
When she arrived at the shop, Russell, not Richie, was manning the front counter. Russell was Stone’s friend, the guy who’d opened the shop in the first place, the dude known to customers as Six-pack. Kory had only seen him once or twice, mainly because he worked the earlier shift in the day. They had other tattoo artists in their business, but Stone and Russell were the main guys and the ones who kept everything going. Stone had introduced Kory to his friend a couple of weeks earlier, but she didn’t really know him well. He too was a good-looking guy, but Kory only had eyes for the guy she now considered her boyfriend.