Sinners Consumed: An Enemies to Lovers Mafia Romance (Sinners Anonymous Book 3)
Sinners Consumed: Chapter 24

THE DINER IS LIT yellow, the compressed chatter humming between its walls lulling me into lethargy. It’s gloomy outside—perfect nap weather. I can barely see the sky on the other side of the condensation-streaked window, but when I press my cheek to the wet glass, I can hear the wind whistling down Main Street.

My lids flutter shut. Man, I’m tired. Now that I know how it feels to sleep through the night, I don’t know how I ever used to stay awake.

The bell above the door chimes and a flurry of activity follows. I smile before I even open my eyes, because that’s one thing I’ve noticed about Rory, Wren, and Tayce. Every time they enter a room, a chaotic energy chases them in. The good, contagious kind.

“Oh my god, Penny! Are you okay?”

I crane my neck to see Wren click-clacking between booths, a flurry of baby-pink and blond hair. She slides in beside me and slings her arms around my neck. Her bubblegum scent makes my throat tight. “I’m fine, Wren. How have you been?”

She yanks off a glittery glove and swats me with me. “Worried sick, that’s how I’ve been.” Her eyes dart around my face, like she’s searching for something. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“Because anytime anyone calls you with a problem, your advice is to listen to ABBA’s greatest hits on repeat.” I turn to see Tayce shimmying into the seat opposite. She lunges over and plants a kiss on my cheek. She always looks so cool, and with her boyfriend blazer and oversized sunglasses pushing back her black hair, today is no exception.

“I get why you didn’t call Wren, but why didn’t you call me?” she says, dragging my milkshake toward her. “I’d have taken you on a crazy night out in Cove. We’d have danced on tables, slammed too many shots. Hell, I’d have got you so drunk you didn’t remember your own name, let alone Rafe’s.”

I laugh, but Wren doesn’t replace it so funny. “Ah, lovely. And then at the end of the night, I’d be the one handing you flip-flops and holding your hair back while you’re sick in a trash can.”

“Probably shouldn’t volunteer to look after drunk people in Cove then,” Tayce muses, slurping from my shake.

“The kindness of volunteers keeps the world turning, honey,” Wren huffs. She glances up at the cash desk. “What’s Rory doing?”

I follow her gaze and see Rory handing an over-stuffed envelope to the girl behind the desk, an apologetic smile on her face.

“Rafe lost his shit in here a few days ago and trashed a few things. I’m guessing Rory’s doing damage control on the Viscontis’ behalf.”

I snap my attention back to Tayce. “What?”

She laughs. “Love makes you crazy, right?”

My cheeks grow hot thinking of Rafe coming in here and trashing things. So ungentlemanly, so uncouth. A sick thrill sweeps through me, but I play off the shudder as being cold. He’s not the kind of man to go off because they got his order wrong.

Maybe he didn’t replace it as easy to ditch me as I first thought.

Rory walks over, buttoning up her purse. She stops at the head of the table and pouts at me. By the pity swirling in her eyes, I know I’m about to get asked the same question for the third time.

“Oh, Penny. Why didn’t you call me?”

This time, guilt inflates my chest. I let out a slow breath, hoping to relieve some of the pressure. Technically, I did call her, just two weeks later than she means. After all my anger spilled out over my messy bedroom floor this morning and I kicked Rafe out, I felt fearless. Like I could face anything, even picking up the phone and calling the girls.

I stomped over to Matt’s and used his cell before I changed my mind. Rory picked up on the first ring. She didn’t ask questions, just told me to name a time and a place and she, Wren, and Tayce would be there.

I saw on my bottom lip with my teeth and tell them the truth. “Because you’re Rafe’s sister-in-law,” I say to Rory, before turning to Wren. “And every time anyone mentions the name Raphael Visconti, you clutch your chest and call him a gentleman.” I glance up at Tayce, who’s almost finished my milkshake. “And with all those tattoos he has, you’ve seen him naked more times than I have.”

“What’s your point?” Tayce asks.

“My point is that I thought you’d all be on Team Rafe because you know him better. And also…” I swallow. “I guess I was embarrassed about what happened.”

Silence sweeps the table. I feel like such an idiot with all my vulnerability on show like this. I clear my throat, getting ready to crack an awkward joke, but Wren grabs my hand.

“I’ll screw up my nose and call him an asshole from now on. Or dickhead, or prick. Whatever you choose.”

“And then I’ll tattoo that on him the next time he comes into my shop,” Tayce pipes up.

Rory slides into the booth beside her. “This morning, he told me how he left you on the yacht like that, so I dropped a laxative in his tea. He didn’t drink it, but I’ll try again tomorrow. He might be my brother-in-law, and yes, of course I love him, but you’re our friend.”

“Friends call friends when they’re sad,” Wren says, giving my hand a squeeze. “You talk to us, cry to us.”

“Plot revenge with us,” Tayce says with a wink.

I nod tightly. It’s all I can do, because I know if I talk, an awful noise resembling a sob will come out. I can already feel it brewing in my throat.

Tayce’s face softens with realization. “Oh, no. When Wren said you can cry to us, she didn’t mean now.”

But it’s too late. A tear runs down my face, sizzling against my hot cheek. I swipe at the napkin dispenser and hide behind a scratchy tissue. “Ah, ignore me. I’m just tired; that’s all.”

God, this is mortifying.

It’s the first time in two weeks I’ve cried for a reason other than because I’m hurt. No, I’m crying because I’m suddenly overwhelmed. My whole life, I’ve only really had one friend I could confide in, and it was a hotline voice that couldn’t answer back. I’m not used to being surrounded by girls that care about me.

Wren whimpers in solidarity, because apparently seeing anyone cry sets her off, too. Rory jumps up to shuffle past her and hug me, while Tayce makes a beeline for the counter, with the promise to bring back something extra-chocolatey.

As I sniffle into the shoulder of Rory’s hoodie, something dawns on me that makes me cry even harder.

These girls would share their jeans with me in a heartbeat.