16
“Kara!”
She wished people would stop shouting her name when she was busy swooning.
Then the voice registered through her Justin-induced haze.
“Papa!”
She moved to hug him but he kept her at arm’s length. “You’re soaked through, girl.” He wore his J.C. Penney’s suit from his work as a detective at the 78th Precinct. His umbrella had kept him dry on the walk home from his shift.
She pushed his arm aside and splatted herself against him. “You’re all warm too.” The May rain certainly wasn’t. She snuggled in and rested her head on his shoulder as he patted her back. He smelled like home. His cheap suits and stale coffee. The lingering hint of the inevitable salami sub that Nonna made for him every morning, heavy on the mustard.
“You’re kissing cowboys in the rain, mia piccola?” Kara s
