by Gina Ardito
The rest of the night passed in a sparkling blur of wine and kisses. Kyle played the adoring suitor to the hilt. They danced every slow dance together and even a few of the faster ones. Throughout the remaining hours, Adrienne Palmer’s advice echoed in Gianna’s head.
And when she and Kyle left the reception a short time after Gianna caught the bouquet, she was ready to take the free advice to heart. She used the car ride home to gain a little courage, replaying the events of the evening in slow motion, running her tongue over her lips to feel the tingle still dancing there.
When he took the exit ramp off the Expressway, she made her move. “Kyle?”
“Mmm?”
“How about we go back to your place?”
“What for?” His gaze skimmed her quickly, without a hint of interest, before refocusing on the road.
Were all men obtuse about a woman’s subtle signals? Well, she’d have to be more direct. Leaning over the console, she placed a hand on his thigh and squeezed. “Because I’m not ready to say goodnight to you yet.”
He veered to the right with a screech of tires and a sharp turn of the wheel, and she tumbled into his lap. Throwing the car in park, he righted her and placed her hands in her own lap. “Gianna, listen to me. I’m flattered. Really. But—”
“But I’m not your type,” she finished with a sigh.
To ward off his look of pity, she crumpled into a tight ball against the passenger door and stared out the window at the shadows of pine trees.
“That’s not what I wanted to say.” He touched her shoulder.
She jerked away, slamming her elbow against the door, but the pain in her heart overrode other sensations. “I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry. The truth is I like you too much to accept your offer. You’re a little drunk, extra vulnerable, and too damned tempting for your own good. I’m not going to take advantage of your current state. That would make me a snake. And I’m no snake.”
Shame stole her ability to speak. Staring at the ragged shadows on the other side of her window, she concentrated on finding a means of escape. If she could find a boulder on the side of the road right now, she’d crawl beneath it and hide.
“I’ll take you home now,” he mumbled.
Again, she nodded, and the car lurched forward onto the paved road.
Chapter Fifteen
Gianna woke the next morning with a headache that would bring an elephant to its knees. But the hot needles of pain behind her eyes didn’t burn as much as the stinging humiliation of the memories of last evening’s finale. She’d thrown herself at Kyle. He’d turned her down. A bubble of acid rose in her throat, and she swallowed with a grimace.
Oh, God. How would she ever face him again? What had gotten into her last night anyway? Sparkling wine. And vanity. Two things she’d had only limited experience with in the past. And this morning, she was paying the price for indulging both.
Pulling the blankets over her head, she huddled into a cocoon of darkness. With any luck at all, she could stay here until next spring and emerge as a beautiful butterfly. Okay, so that wasn’t about to happen. Maybe she could sleep until the night’s drama faded like a bad dream.
But even that wish dashed on the rocks she had for brains when the phone beside her bed jangled. The noise struck her last surviving nerve ending, fraying beyond repair. Worse, she knew who sat on the other end of the ringing box.
Hayley.
Oh, God, not now. She was definitely not ready. Her overtaxed brain still hadn’t processed all the information from last night, and now she’d be expected to run the play by play with armchair quarterback Hayley. What should she do? Ignore her best friend’s call? Pretend she wasn’t home? No. Hayley would keep trying until she got through. Better to face the fire and move on.
With a sigh of defeat, she snaked an arm out from the blankets and fumbled for the receiver. “Hello?”
“Spill, sweetie.”
The chipper, eager voice short-circuited her brain. Sparks flew behind her eyes.
“Every last drop. Don’t hold anything back. Start where he picked you up, and don’t stop ‘til you get to this moment right here and now.”
“Hayley,” she muttered, “can I get back to you later?”
“Why?” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Is he there?”
“No.”
“Then you can’t get back to me later.” Loud again. “I want details, and I want ‘em now!”
“I have to pee,” she replied in a sickly sweet tone.
“I’ll hold,” Hayley said, using the same inflection.
With a groan of exasperation, she slammed the phone on her nightstand, rolled out of bed, and headed for the bathroom across the hall. Before returning to her bedroom, she swallowed two aspirin with a handful of water. She’d need all the help she could get to deal with Hayley’s third degree. The pills stuck in her throat before dissolving, leaving a bitter aftertaste. Big whoop. Last night’s memories had the same acrid flavor.
When Gianna picked up the receiver again, Hayley wasted no time in getting to the point. “Well? C’mon! The suspense is killing me. Tell me what happened.”
“There’s not much to tell.”
“Bull. Quit holding out on me. How did it go last night? What did Frank do when he saw you with Kyle? What did Rachel do? And what did you and Kyle do afterwards?”
Oh, God, strike me dead here and now. Please. But apparently, God wasn’t taking requests this morning.
“W-what makes you think Kyle and I did anything afterwards?”
“Hell-o? Gi, it’s Hayley. Don’t play dumb. The guy’s gorgeous, and he obviously likes you—”
She couldn’t stop the snort that flew out of her nose. “Oh, yeah, right. Obviously.”
“What do you mean? Something happened between you two, didn’t it? C’mon, you can tell me. What happened?”
“Nothing happened.” And thanks so much for reminding me.
“Bull.”
“No bull. Nothing happened. Ab-so-lute-ly nothing.”
“Aha.”
She could almost hear the hamster wheel turning in Hayley’s head. Squeak, squeak, squeak.
“And you wanted something to happen, didn’t you?”
No way did she plan to divulge the details of her humiliation. “Can we drop the subject?”
“No. Now tell me what happened.”
“I caaaan’t,” she whined like a three-year-old, stamping her feet on the carpeted floor and burying her head in the pillow. “It’s too embarrassing.”
“More embarrassing than the time we gave each other home perms? More embarrassing than the night we followed Jason home from the amusement park and wound up driving into his garage door when the brakes failed? More embarrassing than setting the kitchen on fire in Home Ec class? More embarrassing than when you fell off the top bleacher during the homecoming game?”
Flames licked her cheeks. “More embarrassing than all those things.”
“Oh, well in that case, you have to tell me.”
Gianna groaned.
“Now, now, come on, sweetie,” Hayley replied in a mock-shaky voice. “Tell Auntie Hayley all about it.”
With a deep breath for fortitude, she began her confession. Bless me, Hayley, for I have sinned… “We were driving home from the wedding…”
“Yeah?”
“And I asked if we could go back to his place. I told him I wasn’t ready to say goodnight yet.” God, just saying the words aloud sent nausea bulleting to her stomach.
“And?”
One more deep breath. “And he turned me down. Said I was drunk and vulnerable and he didn’t want to take advantage of me.”
“Oh my God, that is so sweet!” Hayley lapsed into an old school-age rhyme. “Gianna and Kyle sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G—”
“Hayley, are you listening? I said he turned me down.”
She stopped singing long enough to say, “I know. Didn’t I tell you he liked you?”
&n
bsp; “If he likes me so much, why am I alone right now?”
“Because you were drunk, you were vulnerable, and he didn’t want to take advantage of you.”
“Huh?” Maybe her brain needed rebooting, but Hayley’s explanation did not compute.
“Don’t you know anything, Gi? If he didn’t care about you, he would have taken you up on your offer, drunk or not. The fact he turned you down says he wants to make certain you’re sure of your feelings before he jumps your bones. That’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard. So, what are you going to do now?”
“What do you mean?”
“The ball’s in your court, baby. Kyle probably thought the alcohol did the talking last night. So now you have to talk to him when you’re sober, and tell him how you feel.”
“Oh, no.” She shook her head until something loose rolled around in her brain. Goody. Maybe she’d have a stroke, and she wouldn’t have to continue this inane conversation. “Forget it. I can’t go through that humiliation again.”
“What humiliation? Trust me. Talk to him today. If you tell him how you really feel when you’re not drunk and vulnerable, I guarantee you’ll get different results.”
“How do you know?”
A long pause followed her question and for a moment, she thought maybe the line had disconnected. “Did I tell you Kyle and I had lunch together last week?”
No, and it might have been nice to know before I made a fool of myself last night.
“Kyle mentioned something.”
“Well, I doubt he ‘mentioned’ all he did was talk about you. Quite frankly, I doubt he even noticed, but it’s true. Every sentence out of his mouth began with ‘Gianna this,’ and ‘Gianna that.’”
“You’re making that up.”
“God’s honest truth. I swear.” She clucked her tongue. “Be real. When have I ever told a story about being alone with a guy where I wasn’t the sole object of his attention?”
True. Hayley’s main interest was always Hayley. “So what if he did talk about me? What does that prove?”
“Jeez. Who knew my best friend was so dense about men? Don’t be a coward. Talk to him, face to face. I’ll bet if you tell him what you’re feeling, you’ll discover he feels the same way about you.”
Quick, Gi. Buy time. “I’ll think about it, okay?”
“No, that’s not good enough. What’s with you? I’ve never known you to be so shy before. Are you hesitating because he’s broke?”
Gianna sat up with a jolt, sending painful starbursts into her head. “Hey, thanks. Now you think I’m a gold digger.”
“Well?”
“Of course not. You know me better than that.”
“So then, what? If you really like him, you have to talk to him. Now. Today. What’s holding you back?”
What was holding her back? Fear? Sort of. But more than fear. Maybe dread was a better word. Dread she’d make another awful mistake. Like she did with Frank. But she didn’t dare tell her best friend. Hayley with her “flit and don’t commit” mentality could never understand.
“I can’t go there now,” she said. “I don’t have my car. He drove last night. It’s probably parked outside Villa Mare.”
“Perfect! Now you have an excuse to see him. I’ll be over in twenty minutes to pick you up. Be ready.” Without waiting for the refusal she must have known Gianna would attempt, Hayley hung up.
****
This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done in my life.
Gianna sat in Hayley’s car outside Villa Mare, trying to breathe. Her brain hummed with a thousand recriminations. Softly. In her current state of hangover, even her conscience knew better than to yell. Her knees shook so badly they slammed against the glove compartment in a staccato rhythm.
“You keep that up, we’ll be able to get you a gig at Club Heebie Jeebies,” Hayley said.
“Ha, ha, very funny.”
“No joke, babe. They’ve got open talent night on Fridays. Couldn’t you just picture the scene?” As if unrolling a banner, Hayley swept her hand over the dashboard. “‘Gianna Randazzo and her Fabulous Drumming Thighbones.’ You could be the next rock legend.”
“Could you try to be a little supportive here?”
“You don’t need support.” Hayley leaned across Gianna’s trembling lap to push open the passenger door. “You need to get your butt out of my car and go talk to Kyle. Now!”
“Some best friend you are.” She flashed a look meant to wither corn on the stalk and climbed out of the car. “I’ll remember this.”
“Yeah, yeah,” the unflappable Hayley replied with a grin. “Just make sure I get to be maid of honor at the wedding. Now stop being a jellyfish and get going.”
The door slammed closed. Panic gripped Gianna. The nearer she came to the front entrance of Villa Mare, the louder her heartbeat pounded in her ears. Her mouth filled with sawdust as she struggled to come up with something clever to say. Maybe a joke to break the ice. Unfortunately, no witty repartee came to mind—only knock-knock jokes—and she dismissed that idea before her feet hit the sidewalk. Maybe just a light, humorous attitude would suffice.
A funny thing happened to me on the way to the wedding last night, Kyle. I came to realize how much I care for you.
Forget it. She’d be better off with a knock-knock joke.
Knock, knock.
Who’s there?
Olive.
Olive who?
Olive you.
Last year, Samantha Mayer got a kiss and a wedding out of Nicholas Lanford when she told him that joke during snack time. Samantha, wearing the white Barbie gown and veil from the dress-up trunk, walked through the hallway with her two best friends serving as bridesmaids. The “groom” stood in the classroom with a stuffed SpongeBob as best man and the rest of the class as guests.
Oh, to be five years old again. Why did life become so difficult when a person reached adulthood?
With a sigh, she stepped onto the curb and wrestled with the idea of walking straight past the pizzeria. Yup, past the pizzeria, the nail salon, the Chinese restaurant, and the liquor store, past the back parking lot, past the copse of pine trees and into the pond. If she kept going from there, well, she wouldn’t have to worry about saying something stupid to Kyle, would she?
The idea was so tempting. Not the bit about drowning. But definitely the part about walking by. No confrontation, no confession, no chance for Kyle to laugh in her face or give her a look of disgust. Or worst of all, confide he was already married, engaged, involved, whatever. She couldn’t take another rejection.
So sue me. Hayley was right. I am a jellyfish. Transparent and spineless. And this jellyfish just might ooze her tentacles to the water and forget about sharing her feelings with anyone.
Fate conspired against her.
Dad, wiping down the booth in front of the window, spotted her and tapped on the glass to gain her attention. He gestured for her to come inside, and then unlocked the front door. “So my Sleeping Beauty’s awake, eh?” He kissed her cheek. “Can I get you something to drink? Espresso or Sambuca?”
“Sambuca? At ten o’clock in the morning, Dad?”
He fixed her with his dark eyes and wagged a finger. “Hair of the dog, sweetheart.”
She shook her head slowly, not wanting to wake the hairy dog sleeping in her skull. Something told her Fido would be a bit cranky if she did. “No Sambuca. Espresso sounds good. Hayley dragged me from the house before I could grab a cup of coffee.”
“You sit.” He pointed to the booth he’d wiped down. “I’ll get your espresso.”
While he headed into the dining room, she slid across the orange bench and folded her hands on the tabletop. Morning sunshine streamed through the window, burning her retinas. Blinded, she fumbled out of the booth and headed for one as far away from the glass as possible.
When her father returned with the tiny cup and saucer, he looked from the booth near the window to the place where she sat now. “That bad, eh?”
She nodded as she picked up the thick lemon peel and stirred it in the aromatic black liquid. After returning the peel to the saucer, she lifted the cup to her lips. A little like battery acid in her empty stomach, but no denying the instantaneous jolt the pure caffeine gave her.
“So how was the wedding last night?”
Over the rim of her cup, she tried to look blasé. “Good.”
“That’s not what Kyle said.” He slid into the booth across from her.
Clink! The cup fell back on the saucer. Oh, God. Kyle had already talked to Mom and Dad. “Wh-what did he say?”
Her father leaned across the table to push a wisp of hair off her forehead. “He said you turned that place on its ear last night. And you were the prettiest girl there and made sure everyone knew.”
“Was that all he said?” God, she hoped so!
“No, there was one more thing.”
Heart pounding in her throat, she waited for her father to berate her trashy behavior.
“He also said you made the bride look like a reject from a bad horror movie.”
Relief spilled into her stomach like liquid antacid. “I think he exaggerated a bit, Dad.”
“And I think you probably underestimate your effect on people. You’ve always known how to shine.”
As much as her father’s compliment soothed her bruised ego, she didn’t wish to pursue this subject. Not while she continued to avoid the real reason for her early morning arrival. “How’s everything going here?”
“Pretty good. That purple-headed girl—Bethany?—she applied for a job yesterday. Wants to work here nights and weekends. What do you think?”
Draining the last of the espresso from the cup, she shrugged. “She’s here all the time anyway. She might as well get paid for the privilege. And she seems responsible enough. She’s not a troublemaker, that’s for sure. I’d say go for it. Claudio probably won’t like your employing her though.”
“Claudio’s retiring at the end of the month,” he confided. “That’s why I’m thinking of hiring Bethany.”
Her eyes blinked in rapid succession. “Claudio? Retiring?”
“He’s sixty-two, sweetheart. He wants to stop working while he’s still young enough to do something with his days. Even if he just hangs around with the ROMEOs.”