by L. D. Davis
I wanted to go home so badly I could taste it, but…I also kept looking to the door, waiting for Marco to make his entrance, to stop me from leaving. He’d sent a few messages, but text messages weren’t going to fix this clusterfuck. He had to know that much. Either he didn’t know yet that we were gone, or he just didn’t care.
Sofia returned rather quickly, and to my surprise, she didn’t come alone. My heart fell when I realized Marco wasn’t with her. It was Maria. She stared at me for a long time without saying anything. I didn’t know if I could handle any of her snide remarks without flipping out on her.
“You are taking my sister away,” she said finally in very clear English. That was surprising, but then again, she’d barely spoken to me before. “Our parents are devastated.”
“I…I’m sorry, but…she doesn’t have to—”
She effortlessly cut me off. “They want you to promise to take good care of her.”
My brow furrowed. “Of course I will. I promise.”
“If anything happens to her, I will personally go to America and destroy you.”
I sighed heavily. “Please, don’t hold back on the mushy feelings, Maria. Give me more.”
One corner of her mouth lifted at my sarcasm while she held a big bag out to me. “The children’s gifts for Epiphany. We are sad they will not be here for the holiday, but they should not have to go without because my brother is a moron.”
I gingerly took the bag from her. “Thank you. You didn’t have to bring this.”
“Yes, I did. Besides, my gifts are amazing and should be enjoyed. They will know that Zia Maria is the best aunt on the Mangini side.”
I was surprised by her words but couldn’t help the first smile I’d had all day. “So, you’re buying their love?”
“Purchasing a child’s love is perfectly acceptable from an aunt’s perspective. Listen, Lydia,” She moved closer to me. “My brother is a moron, but I hope you will forgive him. He is…misguided, but he is also a very good man. He always has been. There could be three oceans between us, or a whole world, but I will always know my brother. I knew when he began to ask for advice about a date that he was in love.”
“He sure has a way of showing it,” I muttered.
“Again. Moron, but he isn’t a moron all the time.”
I tried not to roll my eyes. Of course she was going to take his side. “Anything else?”
“Yes. Continue to learn the language and practice. The more you practice, the less you will suck at it.”
She lightly kissed my cheek and went to say goodbye to the kids, who were now in the living room preparing to leave.
“Why are we leaving?” Gavin asked loudly from across the room.
Everyone quieted and glanced between us. His little arms were crossed in defiance across his chest. His small chin obstinately jutted out, and he glared at me.
“I don’t want to go. I want to stay here with Marco and Armano. He’s my best friend.”
“Gav,” I said on a sigh. I wasn’t in the mood for this either, but none of it was his fault, so I dug deep for some patience. “I realize he’s your best friend, but you knew we would have to go back.”
He stomped his foot. “I thought I would have time to say goodbye! But you and Marco are fighting again, so you’re taking us and running away.”
Sometimes I hated how perceptive he was.
“Gav…”
“I’m not leaving with you,” he shouted. His chin dimpled and his eyes grew damp.
I approached my son and put my hands on his shoulders.
“We promised we would talk to each other, didn’t we? Didn’t we promise to talk to each other if we were sad or mad?”
A fat tear rolled from his eye as he nodded.
“I promise you I will talk to you when we get back home. I promise, Gav.” My voice broke. “But right now, we have to go.”
His hurt and angry glare cut right through me. “You always ruin everything,” he said quietly and turned his back on me.
I stood and stared at him for a moment, unable to stop my tears. Then I wiped them off and turned away from my son.
When the plane took off a couple hours later, and we gradually left Italy behind, I was unable to hide my tears from my kids. I wasn’t only crying for what happened between me and Marco and me and my son. During my short time in Lecco, Marco’s family, Salina, and Tess had wiggled their way into my heart. I’d gone years without accepting anyone new into my life, yet there they were, as if they’d always been there.
I didn’t like leaving so abruptly, but I couldn’t stay. Being so far away from home during such a troubling time was too much. Besides, Gavin and Cora needed to go back to school, and I had to find a new job—or beg for my old one back. Normal people don’t stop their whole lives, take their small children, and run off to Italy for extended periods of time. I should have just gone back to Ohio after the wedding like I was supposed to. Maybe Lily and I wouldn’t have had that fight, or maybe it was due to happen anyway. I couldn’t think about her, though. I just couldn’t add another what-if scenario to my smorgasbord of problems.
Chapter Twenty-One
Lydia
“You do everything dramatically, don’t you? You just can’t help yourself. Your life is a Netflix dramedy. The angst is real. Makes me want to get a blanket and popcorn and curl up on the couch to see what happens next.”
I stared at Adam without emotion. “You are seriously the worst friend ever.”
He was unperturbed by that and looked me up and down before refocusing on my bad leg.
“I guess you aren’t going to be kicking anyone’s face in anytime soon, either.”
“No, but word is her hands work just fine,” Celeste interjected with her usual smirk.
“This welcome wagon sucks,” I griped under my breath.
“Her hands good,” Sofia piped in with a grin.
I stared at her. “Et tu?”
The girl was excited, despite how tired she was. She’d been to the States a few times before, but she’d always been under the thumb of her parents and older siblings. I hoped she wouldn’t go hog wild and become an issue.
“Madam! Pick me up!” Mandy extended her arms.
Startled, he looked around at all of us before settling his gaze back on the toddler who couldn’t say his name right. “It does want to tear out my throat and feast on my blood, doesn’t it?”
The joke from Thanksgiving made me smile, just a little bit.
He picked her up and held her away from his body like she was poisonous. She giggled and kicked her legs in the air. I was glad she was laughing because I knew she had to be tired like the rest of us.
Adam feigned disgust. “Now what do I do with it?” Suddenly, he put her on his hip and tickled her side, making her squeal. “Oh! That’s what I do with it!”
“Aww,” I sighed to Celeste as we watched this. “I’ll bet you can’t wait to have little Adams and Celestes.”
I knew that would make her get all formal and stiff, and I was right. She stopped smiling, stood straight, and took a rolling suitcase in one hand and Cora’s hand in the other. “Let’s go.”
That made me smile a little bit more. “Well, it’s nice to see you still have that big stick up your—”
“Be nice,” Adam admonished.
We walked out into the cold afternoon, and even though we were back in the States, oddly, I didn’t feel at home like I thought I would. I felt out of place, which just dragged my mood back down.
“Where are we going?” I asked before getting into one of the two vehicles waiting for us.
Celeste had the decency to look apologetic, which I was sure wasn’t a normal thing for her. “We thought the best place for you to stay the night is somewhere familiar. We’re going to Marco’s. I have a key.”
I should’ve known that would be the case. Hotels cost money, and to be perfectly honest, I wouldn’t have been okay with Celeste, Adam, Salina, or anyone else paying for our s
tay. They were all doing more than enough already, and I was so deeply indebted I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to repay any of them. So, I nodded my understanding and hoped that I appeared as appreciative as I felt.
The drive to the Manhattan apartment was as long as one would expect during rush hour in New York City. By the time we arrived, the kids were cranky again, especially Gav, who had barely spoken to me directly in hours. He had a perpetually angry expression on his face, and anytime anyone tried to cheer him up, he only became more belligerent. The only person he was somewhat nice to was Sofia. I thought with some time he would calm, but then again, he was my son, and I was just as pigheaded and unreasonable sometimes. A lot of the times. Often. Almost always.
Adam and Celeste went to get dinner for all of us while Sofia, the kids, and I settled in. Usually, I would be totally down for the juicy cheeseburger and chocolate malt I’d ordered, but I didn’t have an appetite. Also, something in one of the greasy paper bags smelled unappetizing and made my stomach roil. I pushed my plate away after only a few bites and prayed I wouldn’t have to go in the bathroom and dry heave.
The apartment was just as I remembered, sleek, modern, and sophisticated, which was incongruous to the décor of the casual homeliness and warmth of the cabin. My kids and I had left our mark on it, however. There were a few scattered toys and crayons left behind from when we stayed there before we flew to Italy, and Mandy’s artwork hung on the fridge. It felt weird to be there without Marco, knowing he wasn’t just a few miles away at work.
As if conjuring the man from across the ocean, my phone went off, and Marco’s name appeared on the screen. It wasn’t the first time he’d called. There had been several missed calls while we’d been in the air. I was disinclined to answer. He’d had hours to call or come to me when I’d still been in Italy. He didn’t deserve to talk to me now, even if he’d finally figured out that Celia was a lying lunatic. He should’ve listened to me before. He shouldn’t have treated me like I didn’t matter.
Sofia was angry with her brother for the behavior he’d displayed toward me, and she didn’t even know the half of it. However, Marco was her big brother. When he called her after I didn’t answer, I felt no animosity because she wanted to take his call.
“He’s your brother, Sofia.”
Those few words were all it took for her to excuse herself and answer. I would never stop her from talking to him, no matter how I felt about him. It was bad enough I’d taken her away from her family. I wouldn’t interfere with her speaking to any of them, even the idiot.
There was a crease between her brows when she returned, like the phone call had stressed her out. Her brother had probably been demanding and impossible, but she made no mention of their conversation, nor did I ask.
Adam and Celeste hung around while we got the kids settled for bed. It wasn’t too terribly difficult because we were all still on Lecco time, which was six hours ahead of us. It was already the middle of the night there.
When I returned to the living room, Celeste was on Adam’s lap in a chair. She looked comfortable, as if she’d done it a million times, her arms wrapped around his neck and his arms wrapped around her waist. She was usually so prissy, it was odd to see her in such a position which was clearly demonstrative of her feelings for him. It was hard to believe that it had only been about a week since they finally put an end to the pussyfooting around and acknowledged their feelings for each other.
Without thinking about it, I snapped a picture of them with my phone, making Celeste frown. She started to get up, but Adam held her tightly and murmured something in her ear that made her face soften.
They really were cute together. Even though it had only been a day, I suddenly and acutely missed the closeness I’d had with Marco. I could still smell him, could still feel the press of his body against mine and his hot touch as we’d desecrated his father’s desk. Only hours later, he ruined that moment, and hundreds of moments before that, and all the moments that could have been.
When Sofia came into the room freshly showered, Celeste finally separated herself from Adam and sat in another chair. She eyed me with interest, and a trace of suspicion.
“So, what happened?”
I gave her a sad smile. “You warned me that he might not pick me, and he didn’t.”
For the better part of an hour, I talked, though I left a lot out. I didn’t know what Sofia knew about Massimo’s situation, and I wasn’t the one who should reveal that information to her. Also, even though Adam was someone I trusted implicitly, I didn’t feel comfortable telling him or anyone else what Tessa and Salina had told me.
“What are your plans now?” Celeste asked when I finished. “Marco isn’t going to want to be separated from his baby.”
I answered tiredly, maybe a little irritably. “I don’t know, Celeste. I just want to go home to Ohio and get my kids back to a semblance of normalcy. Then I’ll think about that. My brain can’t even begin to process that far ahead right now.”
Sofia cleared her throat. When we all looked at her, she swallowed and seemed reluctant to say what was on her mind. “My brother will come. He will come tomorrow—or today time in Italy. He will come for you.”
I couldn’t even muster the energy to care, and truthfully, I wasn’t all that surprised. “Whatever,” I muttered with a shrug.
Her eyes narrowed. “When was last time you sleep?”
I thought about it. “I don’t know. I don’t remember.”
Adam stood and held out his hand to Celeste. “That’s our cue. You need your rest. We’ll be back around seven with breakfast.”
I got up to walk them to the door. “I really appreciate what you guys are doing for us.”
Adam pulled me into an embrace. “That’s what friends are for. I am sorry you are going through this, Lydia.”
I couldn’t speak without getting emotional. So, I just hung on, thankful to have him as a friend. When I finally released him, Celeste and I eyed each other. She stood rigidly and appeared as imperious as ever.
“I am not a hugger,” she said with a sniff.
“I don’t want to hug you, either. I barely like you, but for the record, I did just see you hug Sofia.”
“That’s different. She’s like a little sister to me, and I’ve known her since she was a little girl. Also, for the record you’re barely tolerable as well.”
I looked at her askance. “You and Maria must be very close.”
She seemed pleasantly surprised. “We are fairly close. How did you know?”
Sofia and I exchanged amused glances. “Just a guess. You both have a stick up your—”
“Time for us to go,” Adam interjected, cutting me off once again.
Once they were gone, Sofia insisted I go to bed when I tried to help her make up the couch for her to sleep on.
“If you do not go sleep, I call Mamma. She will come, too, and you get in trouble.”
My laughter was part genuine amusement and part sadness because I already missed Elena. “Did you call your parents since we’ve landed?” I asked, suddenly worried that they were still up waiting for her call.
“Yes. In the car. No worries, Lydia.” She forcefully guided me toward the bedroom, bossy like her brother. “Go sleep.”
Once the door closed, I stood by it for a long minute, just taking in the room. Again, it felt strange for me to be in a space usually occupied by Marco. His scent lingered in the space, and traces of him were everywhere. I looked at the bed. It was made, but the last time it had been used, we’d slept in it together.
With a sigh, I turned away from the bed and went into the bathroom for a shower. When I came out, I studied my body in the mirror after wiping away the fog. Turning to the side, I saw what I hadn’t seen only a few days ago, a baby bump. It was like it sprouted out of nowhere, or like someone just expanded a balloon in my lower belly.
“Where did you come from?” I whispered to the bump as I caressed it.
After drying myself
off, wrapped in a soft bathrobe Marco had given me during my first visit, I made my way to the walk-in closet and flicked on the light. My hands trailed along his hanging shirts as I walked toward my section in the back. He’d arranged space for me in a closet as big as a small bedroom. Almost every item had been bought and chosen by Marco. Not long after that, he’d surprised me with a new wardrobe at home as well, which had turned into a big fight. Most of those clothes ended up being my style, casual and practical. However, the stuff that hung in the New York closet were more for a Manhattan socialite, not a simple girl from Ohio. As I looked through the designer items, I thought they were more fitting for Celia than me.
That thought made me stop cold. Her words came back to me. Marcello Mangini deserves a woman on his arm who is equal in sophistication, refinement, and aristocratic blood, and she should certainly be able bodied and in excellent physical condition.
What if he’d purchased this wardrobe based on her tastes? He’d used a personal shopper to get everything, but by whose specifications? His or Celia’s? Had he compared us when giving direction for the clothes?
I picked out a silk red blouse and stared at it before dropping it to the floor. I grabbed another, this one olive green and stared at that, too before dropping it to the floor. I went through about a dozen shirts, throwing each one on the floor in the end. I unfolded pants, examined the few dresses, and shoes. All of it ended up in a pile on the floor, and I wished I had a match to torch it. Almost every piece of clothing reminded me of Celia. Maybe I was wrong and none of it had anything to do with her, but I was too mad to make sense. All I knew was that I hated every garment in the pile, and in that moment, I hated Marco, too.
With a burst of energy, I went through the closet, tearing down the rest of my clothes and most of his, throwing everything on the floor. My leg hurt like hell, but I stormed out of the closet, determined to cause more damage elsewhere. I went to the chest of drawers that held more casual clothing choices, like sweat pants and tee shirts, ready to throw all of that shit on the floor, too, but I stopped short when I saw the little black box on top. Hesitantly, I reached for it and flipped the lid open.