The tears that hadn't come earlier finally fell. His guard was down. Maybe this was why he'd been off his game tonight. Kane brushed away the tears that wouldn't stop flowing and dropped his head in his hands. All the things he wanted to say to his mother would now remain unsaid. The memories of his past came barreling forward, robbing him of his carefully placed resolve. When Kane was eighteen years old, freshly graduated from high school, he never imagined his life playing out like this.
At the time, he'd been kicked out of his house, he had the Lord's Prayer broken over his head—literally, the framed picture that had been hung in a place of honor by the front door was shattered across his skull—right after his brother dropped him to his knees with a couple of solid right hooks and his father shoved him out the front door with nothing more than the clothes on his back.
He supposed his father's sermon of tolerance, patience, and love, given that same morning in the Southern Baptist church where he pastored, didn't apply to his own family members. Kane should have known better. And for the love of God, he certainly shouldn't have picked the Sunday afternoon lunch to tell his large family he was gay. He still cringed today thinking about his own stupidity.
Fresh out of high school, tossed on the streets of a town with a population of no more than a couple thousand people, didn't leave too many options. He walked for days, slept in barns and old broken down vehicles, and starved as he made his way to Birmingham. Nothing more than pity and kindness made an Italian pizzeria owner give him a job. Three advantages came with that job. He got to eat, make money, and meet Paulie, the pizzeria owner. At that point in his life, the first two were high on his list of priorities.
By the fall, Kane found out his father had sabotaged his full scholarship to Oral Roberts Christian University in Tulsa. By then, he had worked sixteen hour days, seven days a week, and saved up a pile of money, but apparently he couldn't buy his way into the university. Those had been dark days. Every goal and dream of his future washed away because he had opened his stupid mouth and trusted his family with the truth about himself.
With Paulie's unwavering support, Kane even pulled himself up enough to get a little self-assured. That attitude was what gave him the strength and courage to actually follow through and fly to Italy, Paulie's homeland. Paulie taught him when one door closes, a window generally opens, and his saving grace came in the way of that little man who ran the La Bella Luna kitchen like a drill sergeant.
Without question, Paulie had saved his life. Kane would have none of this if it weren't for him. Paulie had lost his own son in the Vietnam War, and just like he had come to expect from the man's generous spirit, he had no problem taking on Kane as his own. They didn't share too many things in common, except for the most important one, the love of cooking. Paulie taught Kane everything he knew, and Kane found he had an innate understanding of food, a natural ability to blend and create delicious combinations.
When Paulie suggested he study in Italy, Kane jumped at the chance and enrolled in culinary school. Lord, he'd been so far behind compared to the other students' abilities, but he worked hard those years and eventually caught up, graduating with honors and many job opportunities. Paulie came to Italy for his graduation, watched him walk across the stage. Paulie had been so proud of him. That should have been enough, but secretly, it wasn't. The entire time he was in Italy, he sent monthly letters home to his family, begging for their forgiveness. He wrote passages to his family, trying to show them he held on to his parents' strong Christian values while making a decent life for himself. No one in his family ever responded to any of his letters. The only thing he ever got back from them was his father's scribbled penmanship marked across the envelope—return to sender.
Kane had reconciled himself a long time ago that Paulie was his family now, but as he sat in this office, the ache of missing his mom returned. In all honesty, he probably should have stayed home tonight. Given himself the day to grieve instead of believing he could push through, make everything all right if he just kept working. That had to be his problem tonight, too much weighed on his heart.
He leaned back in his chair and looked down at his crotch. Finally, a positive for the evening, his cock had settled down. And he couldn't help the harsh chuckle he gave. The past always had a way of knocking the wind out of his sails. Kane made a decision right then. He'd take it easy tonight. Stay hidden behind the scenes and completely away from the Adams table. He would maintain a quiet presence for his staff until closing.
Kane had comped the wine, and he would send a bouquet of flowers tomorrow apologizing to Mr. Adams for what he'd done—whatever that was. Certainly by tomorrow he would have a clear mind and could easily see what he had done wrong. Feeling like he had a solid plan in place, Kane left his office only to be met right outside the door by Randall, his door greeter.
"Justice Sawyer's leaving and wants a word with you." Kane nodded and forced the smile back onto his face.
"Thank you. I'll be right there." Kane would wear this smile the rest of the evening. Everything was all right. Tomorrow would be a new day. He squared his shoulders and went to find the justice. He was always good for a nice compliment or two.
"Did you see Avery Adams? He's a fox," Randall said, right on his heels.