Speak Low

by Melanie Harlow

  I thought of Joey asking me to come with him to Chicago without even telling me how he felt. Was that what she meant? Should I have recognized unspoken affection in his words? How the hell could I be expected to know? I closed my eyes, sighing. It was hopeless.

  “What now?” she asked.

  “Joey’s leaving.”

  “And you don’t want him to?”

  I shook my head. “No, but I had no idea what to say to stop him. He asked me last night for a reason to stay, and I couldn’t give him one.”

  “He asked you to give him a reason to stay? And you couldn’t think of one?” She looked at my tearstained face incredulously.

  I could. I could think of one, and I had—maybe I hadn’t been willing to admit it yet, even to myself.

  But things change.

  “I couldn’t then.” I stood and walked to the mirror over Bridget’s dresser, taking in my puffy, splotchy face. “But I think I can now.” I turned to face her. “Can the girls stay with you tonight? There’s something I have to do.”

  #

  After leaving Bridget’s, I went home and took a bath, lingering for a long time in warm water I’d scented with a little vanilla extract. I’d thought about something fancier, like rosewater or lavender, but decided Joey would find vanilla harder to resist.

  I needed to be irresistible.

  I washed my hair with Cocoanut Oil shampoo and combed it out, then I pinned curls to my head and let it dry. Choosing an outfit was a bit of a problem, since I didn’t want to wear anything too fancy but my day dresses weren’t romantic at all. After agonizing over it for two hours, I chose a simple navy dress with white piping that had been at the back of my tiny closet all summer since it had a tear near the hem and I hadn’t felt like mending it. Locating a needle and a spool of navy thread in my sewing kit, I sat on my bed in my black stockings and white chemise and stitched up the tear.

  It wasn’t as bad as I remembered.

  See, broken things can be repaired. Torn cloth can be mended. Apologies offered.

  Feelings declared.

  As long as I had the guts to do it.

  Around three o’clock, I walked to the streetcar stop and took a car heading downtown. As I hurried on foot to the restaurant, I tried to calm my swirling stomach by reminding myself it was just Joey I was going to see. There was no reason to be scared.

  But there is, worried a voice inside me. He could turn me away, he could tell me I’m too late, or worse—he could tell me I was mistaken about what I felt, or what I imagined he felt.

  But I hadn’t imagined it last night, I knew I hadn’t. When we’d finally come together on the sofa—well, on the floor near the sofa—it was just as Bridget had described. I’d felt so full of passion and relief and want and need and shock and happiness—so many feelings I couldn’t even name them all. But it added up to one thing, and I couldn’t stop thinking it.

  I was in love with him.

  I was in love with him.

  I was in love with him.

  And I wanted to say it to his face.

  My stomach tightened. Would he kiss me when I told him? Would he pull me to him like he had last night? Would he let me tear the clothing from his body? Will he throw me down and ravage me the way I want him to, and let me ravage him in return?

  The thought was enough to make the muscles in my lower body seize up, and I stopped walking. Closing my eyes, I whispered a prayer.

  Dear God, please avert your eyes tonight. Because I’m going to do things to Joey Lupo I have never done before, things I’ve never even imagined doing before.

  Licking my lips, I walked two steps before stopping again and glancing up.

  And you might want to cover your ears too. Amen.

  #

  By the time I opened the restaurant door, I was more than ready to confess my love to Joey and beg him not to follow through on his revenge plan. Pulse racing, I walked past the hostess at the entrance to the dining room and took the huge central staircase up two flights, two steps at a time. By the time I reached the third floor I was winded and my hip hurt but I didn’t care. The hallway smelled delicious, and I hoped I wouldn’t be interrupting dinner. My hands shook as I knocked on the door.

  No one answered.

  I put my ear to the door and heard conversation. It actually sounded as if a lot of people were in there. Crap, now what was I going to do? What if his mother had company? The scene I imagined between Joey and I could not take place in front of an audience! Disappointed, I nearly turned around and left, but suddenly the door opened.

  “Tiny!” Marie shouted. “I knew I heard a knock! Are you alone? Come on in, honey.”

  Taking me by the arm, she shepherded me into the living room, where, to my horror, the entire Lupo family was gathered. Adults were sitting on the furniture and young children scuttled around underfoot. A quick scan of the room told me Joey wasn’t among them.

  My heart fell.

  “You all remember Tiny? She’s Bridget’s sister….” Marie switched to Italian and I caught the words sposata and Vincenzo, so I figured she was introducing me as the sister of the woman who was married to Vince.

  Several people crossed themselves; others nodded and smiled. Marie went on with introductions but I knew I’d never recall anyone’s name. I only cared about one person, and I didn’t see him here. Just as I was about to ask if he was home, Mrs. Lupo rose from her seat on the sofa and kissed my cheeks. “Cara, good to see you. You stay for Sunday dinner.”

  “Oh, I don’t want to intrude on your family dinner, I just—”

  “Nonsense, Tiny, you’re family,” insisted Marie. “And if you’ve never had Joey’s arancine, you’re in for a treat.”

  “Joey’s what?”

  “Sorry. They’re rice balls,” she said. “And they’re delicious.”

  “No one make them better than me but my Giuseppe,” Mrs. Lupo said proudly. “He don’t even let me come in there today.”

  “That’s right, Ma. You just rest. Joey can handle the cooking today.”

  A ball of rice didn’t sound that appealing to me, but I would’ve eaten anything they asked me to in order to stay. He’s here! I glanced at the kitchen door, which was closed. Would it be strange if I asked to go in there? “Can I help with the meal?”

  “Absolutely not, you sit down with us.” Marie led me to a dining chair, which had been brought out to the front room. Perhaps she’d heard about my cooking somehow. Helplessly, I sank into the seat and looked around. There were three or four older women, one old man and two younger men that I thought might be Joey’s brothers-in-law, and probably five or six kids. I didn’t see Joey’s other two sisters, Joanna and Therese, and I guessed they were in the kitchen with him.

  “I’ll let Joey know you’re here, Tiny. Can I bring you a cup of coffee?” Marie asked.

  “Thanks. But no thank you on the coffee. I’m fine.”

  She smiled at me and went into the kitchen, and my stomach knotted itself worse than the rags in my hair last night. What would Joey do when he heard I was out here?

  A moment later, he pushed open the swinging kitchen door and stood in the frame, staring at me through the arched threshold between the dining room and front room. My heart thumped three times in quick succession. My God, he was so beautiful—his face took my breath away. He had a dimple on his chin. Had I not noticed that before? And the lightness in his brown eyes. The lashes so dark and thick I could see them across the room. The mouth. Dear Lord, that mouth. My bottom lip fell open as we locked eyes, and my breath was stuck inside me.

  He wore an apron over a blue shirt with his sleeves rolled up and dark trousers. He’d removed his collar and tie to work in the kitchen, and the top button of his shirt was undone. He held a dishtowel in his hands.

  I felt paralyzed by the sight of him. How had I ever thought he wasn’t the one? I wanted him so badly—I felt it in every nerve ending in my body. But now what should I do? I could hardly take off running, hurdle th
e sofa his mother sat on, and launch myself at him, which is what I wanted to do. And Joey’s face was unreadable; I couldn’t tell if he was angry at me for coming or glad to see me. I smiled and raised my hand in a pathetic little greeting, and he nodded grimly and backed into the kitchen again, the door swinging shut behind him.

  Shit! That reaction was not in the fantasy of how this moment went.

  Maybe he didn’t want me here. My throat threatened to close up, and I took several deep breaths. Conversation went on around me, but I barely heard it. It was half in Italian, anyway. I’d have to learn some more words if Joey and I were going to be together.

  The thought sent chills cascading down my spine.

  Joey and I were going to be together.

  The more I thought about it, the more certain I was that it was right. I knew him, and he knew me. He was part of my history, and I was part of his. We had a lot to learn about each other, still, but I knew at the core of his being was devotion to family, a sense of duty, and a huge heart. I had no doubt he had a vast capacity to love someone, and I wanted to be her.

  I have to be her.

  Staring at the kitchen door, I wondered how insane his family would think it if I just got up, walked through it, and announced to Joey I was in love with him. It wasn’t ideal, but if I had to sit here one minute longer, I was going to go mad.

  I stood up.

  “Tiny? Can I get you something?” Marie asked.

  “Uh, would you excuse me for a moment?”

  She smiled and pointed toward the hallway off the dining room. “The bathroom is just down the hall there.”

  “Thanks.”

  With a longing look at the swinging door to the kitchen, I went through the dining room and down the hall to the bathroom. Once inside, I shut the door and stared in the mirror over the sink, arguing with myself.

  Coward! Just go in there and tell him! He probably thinks you’re here to berate him for his choices again.

  I know, but I’m scared! And his family is here…

  Figure it out. You’re not leaving until he knows how you feel. If he rejects you, so be it, but you’re going to tell him. Tonight. Now.

  I racked my brain for another minute trying to think up a plan. Then it hit me—a note, I could bring him a note, or ask Marie to take one to him. It wasn’t as good as face to face, but it was something. My heart tripped excitedly as I dug through my purse for paper and pencil, but I came up with nothing. Shit! What could I use?

  I had a lipstick and a handkerchief. It would have to do.

  Kneeling on the floor, I spread out the white square and clicked the red color up the tube. Biting my lip, I printed carefully. There was no room for error—I only had the one handkerchief. The words would not have the same effect on toilet paper.

  I love you.

  Should I add an apology? Ask for forgiveness?

  No, something told me to just go with one simple message. Joey was intuitive where I was concerned. He would know from those words what I was asking for.

  Standing, I clicked the lipstick back down, capped it, and tucked it into my purse again. I folded the note, careful not to smudge my letters.

  Deep breath. Now to deliver it.

  Be brave, be brave, be brave, I told myself as I walked down the hall into the dining room. Instead of returning to my chair in the front room, I squared my shoulders and pushed open the swinging door to the kitchen.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Tiny!” Joey’s oldest sister Joanna greeted me with surprise. She stood at the center table putting together a huge tray of meats, cheeses, vegetables and olives. “What are you doing in here?”

  Joey, who was stirring something in a pot on the stove, spun around and stared at me.

  I stared back, unable to speak. He was just so handsome—my stomach whooshed at the sight of him only five feet away from me. God, I’d rolled around with him on the floor last night and then let him leave?

  “Are you staying for dinner?” Joanna asked. “Joey’s making arancine one last time before he abandons his family again for Chicago.”

  She was teasing, but Joey glared at her over his shoulder before turning back to the stove. Either he was really angry or he just didn’t know what to say to me.

  “I heard,” I said, growing bolder. “In fact, Joey promised me a cooking lesson before he left town, and I’m here to see that he makes good on it.”

  Joey’s body stilled and Joanna laughed heartily. “Wonderful,” she said. “I keep telling him he should stay on here and run this place. He’s got the knack for it, and it needs someone like him to give it some new life.”

  “I’ve got other plans.” Joey’s voice was firm, and he spoke without turning around. “And today’s not the best day for a lesson.”

  “Joey, don’t be rude,” scolded Joanna.

  “I won’t get in your way.” I walked over to him. With a glance over my shoulder to make sure his sister wasn’t watching, I took one of Joey’s hands and pressed the tiny white square into it. “And if it’s not the right time for a lesson, that’s OK.”

  Joey looked at me with a confused expression. “What’s this?”

  “Read it.” I pleaded with my eyes before backing away.

  “So, Tiny, how’s your sister Bridget? I haven’t seen her in a while,” said Joanna.

  “She’s well,” I answered with a shaky voice. From the corner of my eye, I saw Joey unfold the handkerchief and my heart threatened to bounce out of my chest right onto the olives. Oh God, oh God, oh God. He’s reading it.

  And then he looked at me, his lips parted. We stared at each other for a few seconds, and hope rose in me like a hot air balloon.

  But he turned away and faced the stove again, and all I could do was blink back tears in disbelief. He doesn’t want me. I’m too late. My eyes dropped to the floor before closing.

  “Bridget was such a good card player,” Joanna went on. “I remember how she and Vince used to beat Tony and me at—”

  “Tiny.” Joey’s voice had a new energy to it. I looked up to see him yanking the apron over his head. “I forgot, I need something from the restaurant pantry downstairs. Will you help me bring it up?”

  “I can get it,” Joanna offered. “What do you need?”

  “No, we’ll get it. You watch the sauce,” Joey said quickly, rushing over and grabbing me by the wrist. “Come on.”

  He pulled me out the kitchen door and we flew down the back steps, our feet thumping on the wood as quickly as my heart was beating.

  When we got to the bottom of the stairs, Joey pushed open the door to the restaurant kitchen and yanked me through it. I had to run to keep up with his strides and we rushed by several cooks and servers who stared after us in confusion, but Joey didn’t stop. “Just grabbing something in the pantry,” he called out, pushing open a thick wooden door at the back of the kitchen and pulling me into the pitch-black space. He slammed the door shut.

  As soon we were alone, what he grabbed was me.

  First he pulled me into him, his glorious mouth on mine, his tongue driving between our lips. Then he boosted me up with his hands beneath my bottom and pushed my back against the door. “Wrap your legs around me,” he demanded, his breath hot against my mouth.

  Heat rushed my lower body as I moved my dress out of the way and locked my ankles behind his hips. He put his hands on the door at either side of my head and pushed against me, and I could barely breathe it felt so good. If it was this incredible with our clothes on, I was going to lose my mind once we were naked and pressed skin to skin. How long would I have to wait? Could we get naked in the pantry?

  I was honestly considering it.

  “Did you mean it?” Joey asked between frantic kisses. “What you wrote?”

  “Yes,” I breathed, reluctant to take my lips from his even for a moment. “Yes, I meant it. I mean it. I love you. And I’m sorry.”

  “Shhh.” He trailed kisses down my neck. “We don’t have time for apologies. God,
I love your neck. You smell good enough to eat.” He licked and sucked a spot below my ear that made my nipples tingle.

  I moaned with impatience. “That feels so good. You feel so good.” The pantry it is. With one hand I reached down between us and rubbed my hand on the erection straining at his trousers. “I want you inside me. Now.”

  He made a strangled sound, the vibrations tickling my throat. “We can’t, Tiny.”

  I ignored him, undoing buttons, slipping my hand inside his underwear and wrapping it around a cock so big and hard my mouth fell open in shock. “Jesus,” I whispered. “Maybe you’re right. I’m not sure you’ll fit inside me.”

  Groaning, he kissed me again. “You are a little bit of a thing.” He brought his lips back to mine. “But I’ve spent too many hours thinking about you for it not to happen.”

  “Hours, really?”

  “Probably more like months, if not years.”

  “Mmmm, you should have told me sooner.” I slid my hand up and down his impressive length. Maybe it was because Joey wasn’t very tall, but I had never imagined he’d be so big. “Oh my God, Joey. How do you keep this hidden?”

  “Around you, it’s an effort,” he managed, clearly struggling for control. He dropped his forehead onto my shoulder and gasped. “Fuck, that feels good. God, I shouldn’t say fuck in front of you. Sorry.”

  “We don’t have time for apologies, remember? And you can say fuck in front of me. Better yet, you can just fuck me, how’s that?” I squeezed him tighter in my fist.

  He picked up his head. “Oh, Christ. Listen, I’m gonna be sorry for a whole lot more than that you if you don’t stop doing…what you’re doing,” he said, alarm in his voice. “I’m going to make a mess of our clothes, and then we’ll have some explaining to do.”

  I laughed, withdrawing my hand and dropping my feet to the floor. “Ok, then we’ll save that for later. But I don’t want to leave yet…” I pushed the braces off his shoulders and shoved his trousers down at the sides.