He had to get her back.
It was all he could think about as he waved away another shot of whiskey. Perhaps he’d give her some more time without him, give her a chance to miss him. Besides, he needed a little time to figure out when and how to tell her he’d been a fool, and she’d been right all along. He had a feeling that if he went rushing back to her now and begged her to give him another chance, she’d tell him to take a hike. He was a man of instinct; he’d know when the time was right to plead his case. He just hoped that when that time came, it wasn’t already too late.
36
Natalie hadn’t thought she would start crying this early, but the minute she got to Anthony and Vivi’s house to dress on the morning of the wedding, she began sniffling. At least she wasn’t alone: Vivi’s mother and grandmother were there, too, and when Vivi walked down the stairs in her grandmother’s wedding gown, out came the tissues. “We’re going to ruin our makeup!” chided Vivi, who was also teary. For the most part, they were all weeping tears of joy, but there was also a subcurrent of sadness there, too, since Natalie and Vivi’s father wasn’t alive to walk Vivi down the aisle.
“He’s here in spirit, cherie, you know he is,” Natalie whispered to Vivi in the limo when it pulled up in front of Saint Finbar’s church, where their father’s good friend, Bernard Rousseau, stood waiting for them. Bernard was going to give Vivi away. Natalie was thankful he let her remain in his apartment while he was in town for the wedding; she’d been sure he would want his privacy. But he was only in New York for a few days, and then it was back to Paris. He told her that he liked her living in his flat and keeping an eye on it for him and that she was welcome to stay for as long as she liked.
The church was packed. Vivi was right: Anthony had invited all of Bensonhurst. Standing in the vestibule at the back, she spotted Quinn sitting in the eighth pew from the front on the left, right on the aisle. She wasn’t sure, but from behind it looked like he was wearing a new suit. When he turned to talk to the woman to the left of him (a good-looking woman in a fabulous form-fitting champagne-colored dress), her gut clenched. Had he brought a date to the wedding? No, Vivi would have told her.
She couldn’t stop looking at him. He was clean-shaven, and his hair was combed. He looked undeniably handsome, and she could see the woman he was talking to noticing it, too. She forced herself to look away.
“Hey, how’s it going?”
Michael Dante appeared, pulling at the collar of his tuxedo. “I hate these monkey suits.”
“I’ve never met a man who doesn’t.”
Michael narrowed his eyes as he looked at the doors to the church, where his cousin Gemma’s husband, Sean, stood directing guests. Beside him was Aldo, the ancient headwaiter/manager of Dante’s.
“Look at that gavone,” Michael said with a scowl, gesturing at Aldo. The old man was tapping his foot impatiently and checking his watch.
“I’m sure he’ll stop once we start down the aisle.”
“Pain in my ass. Pain in Anthony’s ass. He always has been.”
“I think it’s sweet that Anthony wanted him up there.”
“Oh, please. He would have torched the restaurant kitchen if Ant had done otherwise.” Michael looked sentimental as he gazed around the church. “Did you know this is where Ant and I were both baptized? We had our first Holy Communions here, too. And our confirmations. I got married here, too. My kids were baptized here.” He paused. “I was a wreck when I got married. Puked twice before we even left the house and once here.”
“But I bet the feeling went away when you saw Theresa, right?”
“Yup,” said Michael, as his gaze tenderly drifted to the front pew where Theresa sat with their three children. “Smartest thing I ever did, marrying that mouthy broad.”
Natalie smiled, even though her heart felt as though it were made of glass about to shatter at any moment with sadness. The wedding . . . Michael’s unabashed love for his wife . . . Natalie felt the absence of love in her own life acutely. She reminded herself that this day was not about her. It was about Vivi and Anthony—their love, their commitment to each other. She would not let the failure of her relationship with Quinn mar the joy of the day for her.
She moved to Vivi, who was talking to Bernard Rousseau.
“Nervous?”
“Not at all.” Vivi was radiant.
Michael had momentarily disappeared. When he returned, his eyes were bright and excited. “The padre says we’re ready to roll,” he told Natalie, Vivi, and Bernard. “We just need to wait for the Bach to begin so Natalie and I can walk up the aisle. Then the wedding march will start, and it’s showtime. Anthony’s at the altar, waiting.”
Natalie took Michael’s arm, and they stood side by side in the back of the church, waiting for Bach’s “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring” to begin on the organ. She felt surprisingly nervous. What if she tripped walking up the aisle? What if she cried like a baby as she listened to Vivi and Anthony exchange vows?
The church organ, which had been playing softly as the church filled up, fell silent for a moment. Natalie took a deep breath, glancing anxiously at Michael as the opening notes of one of J. S. Bach’s most beautiful pieces of music began quietly playing. “Ready?” Michael whispered.
“Ready.”
Slowly, almost regally, they started up the aisle, heads turning to watch them. All eyes were on them, including Quinn’s. Natalie could feel his gaze locking on her and holding. Her eyes cut to him quickly as she walked by, but not so quickly that she failed to notice the longing in his eyes or that he was wearing the shirt she’d given him months back. Shaken, she forced her gaze back to the front of the church, where Anthony stood expectantly, looking extremely handsome in his tux. Aldo and Sean were standing midway down the aisle on either side. The fiery little waiter had stopped fidgeting and now tears were rolling down his cheeks. When she and Michael reached the altar, Michael went to stand beside Anthony, while Natalie moved to the other side to wait for Vivi.
The opening strains of the traditional wedding march began, and everyone in the pews rose and turned toward the back of the church to watch Vivi as she made her way up the aisle—everyone but Quinn, that is, who was still staring at Natalie. She refused to look at him.
Vivi was beaming, her mother and grandmother weeping quietly. Natalie felt overwhelmed with sudden emotion and bit down hard on her lower lip to stop herself from bursting into tears.
A few rows from the altar, Bernard and Vivi stopped. Anthony left the altar and walked down the aisle to where they had stopped. Bernard was smiling broadly, and so was Anthony. Bernard shook Anthony’s hand and with his other hand, clutched Anthony’s forearm. Natalie could see Anthony’s eyes begin to well up with tears. Anthony took Vivi’s arm, and the two of them walked together to the altar.
And throughout the ceremony, Natalie could feel Quinn’s eyes on her, his gaze intense and unwavering.
“Help me. I don’t know what to do.”
Vivi and Anthony’s wedding reception was in full swing in the banquet room at Dante’s. The two of them had reached a compromise when it came to the food: guests had a choice between an Italian or French dish for each course.
Natalie was seated at a table with Vivi, Anthony, Theresa, Michael, their kids, Gemma, and Sean. Quinn was seated at a table of hockey players, which he seemed to be enjoying immensely when he wasn’t busy staring at her. It was starting to unnerve Natalie, especially since it was also stirring up excitement within her. It felt different than when his eyes followed her at the bar; here they were all dressed up, and played out against the background of Vivi and Anthony’s wedding, there was an added romantic element to his attention that Natalie couldn’t ignore.
Vivi and Anthony had danced their first dance, and the dance floor was now filling with other couples, who were staring dreamily into one another’s eyes as the band played one classic love song after another. The minute Vivi left the dance floor, Natalie asked her to come with her to the l
adies’ room for a minute.
“What’s the matter?” Vivi asked as soon as the bathroom door swung closed behind them, her brows furrowed in concern.
Natalie wrung her hands. “It’s going to sound trivial, but Quinn keeps staring at me, and it’s unnerving me.”
“That’s because he loves you,” said Vivi, fixing the hem of her dress.
“Yes, but—”
“You have two choices,” Vivi cut in softly. “You can ignore him, or you can talk to him.”
“Talking to him will confuse me,” Natalie admitted, catching a brief glimpse of herself in the bathroom mirror. She looked distressed.
“That’s because you still love him.”
“But I don’t want to,” Natalie said miserably.
“So stop,” Vivi teased. “Tell your heart, ‘Stop loving him.’ I’m sure you’ll be able to turn it off just like that.” Vivi snapped her fingers.
“Very funny.”
Vivi cupped her cheek. “What do you want, Natalie? I mean, truly, deep down.”
“I can’t have what I want,” said Natalie, putting a hand over Vivi’s. “That’s the problem.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do, Vivi.” They lowered their hands, twined their fingers together.
“Talk to him. What harm will it do? You talk to him all the time at work anyway, don’t you?”
“Not all the time. I’ve been trying to minimize contact.” She rubbed her arms as if a chill had just entered the room. “But today is different. There’s all this romance swirling in the air. I feel . . . susceptible. You know how charming he is.”
“Yes, I do. But I also know that from the moment you two met, there was an undeniable spark there.”
Natalie covered her face with her hands, sighing. “My mind feels so jumbled.”
“Then talk to him. Either you’ll sort things out, or you won’t. At least you’ll be out of limbo.”
“Yes, you’re right.” Natalie opened the bathroom door. “I should let you get back to your husband. Thank you for letting me take you away from your party for a few minutes,” she said sheepishly.
“You’re so silly sometimes.” Vivi playfully tugged on one of Natalie’s earrings. “Come along, ma soeur. Everything will work out the way it’s supposed to. It always does.”
37
“Would you like to dance?”
Quinn looked almost shy as he approached Natalie, where she sat talking to Theresa about fashion. So far, she’d danced with Anthony, Michael, Sean, Bernard, and even Aldo, who complained the whole time about how Anthony should have made the food for the reception himself rather than hire Spallone Catering. She hated to admit it, but every time she was on the dance floor, she hoped Quinn was watching with envy, because God knows, she herself was filled with an unjustified sense of possessiveness when he danced with Vivi, Theresa, and Gemma. She’d had a feeling he would eventually ask her to dance, and when she did catch him out of the corner of her eye coming toward the table, her heart lurched against her will.
She hesitated a moment as Quinn gazed at her hopefully, his vulnerability making it impossible for her to refuse. She stood, taking the hand he’d extended to her. They found an open spot on the crowded dance floor. Natalie could tell he wanted to draw her closer to him, but she resisted, keeping a small distance between them.
“You having fun?” Quinn asked as they began dancing. For some reason, she thought he’d be one of those men who really couldn’t dance and would lead her around in a slow shuffle. But he was light on his feet and seemed to know what he was doing.
“Yes. You?”
Quinn looked thoughtful. “Yes. The food is great. So is the band.”
“Vivi picked the band. Apparently Anthony was lobbying for a band called the Tarantulas made up of hockey players.” Natalie pursed her lips disapprovingly. “Honestly, I don’t know what he was thinking.”
Quinn tilted his head in the direction of Anthony and Vivi, who were making the rounds from table to table, talking to their guests. “They look really happy.”
“Yes,” Natalie agreed.
“Despite quite a few bumps in the road before they finally got together,” Quinn pointed out.
Natalie said nothing, trying to ignore the innuendo in his voice as well as her heart picking up pace. He drew her a little closer, and she let him, but she resisted the urge to let their bodies touch completely.
“You look really beautiful,” Quinn said, awed.
“Is that why you’ve been looking at me all day?” she asked quietly.
“Partially. But mainly I’ve been looking at you because I love you.”
Natalie closed her eyes, trying to harden her heart. “Please. Don’t.”
Quinn ignored her. “I know you still love me, ma petite blaireau.”
My little badger. He was trying to charm her, like the old days. She refused to give in.
“Oh?” she replied coolly. “And how do you know that?”
“Because every time we talk, there’s still a spark between us. I can feel you fighting with yourself, trying not to look at me. I’m a reporter, remember?”
“How could I forget?” Natalie said dryly.
Quinn looked frustrated. “Let me finish.” He drew her closer, their bodies lightly touching now. “As I was saying: as a reporter I have a highly developed sense of intuition and instinct. And mine tells me you still care.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does. When my article finally ran, I should have been on the top of the world, but I wasn’t. You know why? Because it finally dawned on me that without you, I really don’t have a life.”
“You didn’t want one.”
“I didn’t know how to have one.” He pulled her as close to him as she could get, and her heart began pounding. “Listen to me. Remember when you told me I was stupid?”
“Oui.”
“Well, you were right. I was a jerk. The night the article ran, after the guys and I left the pub, we went over to another bar where a lot of reporters hang out. Everyone was congratulating me, and yeah, it was nice. But as I looked around, I saw a vision of my future. Half the guys there were divorced or had never been married because they live for their job. I realized I do not want to end up like that.” His gaze was intense. “Without you in my life, I have no life at all. I’ve been a total idiot, Nat. But if you give me another chance, I swear to you that I will never put my work before you again.”
Natalie shook her head sadly. “People don’t change.”
“How can you of all people say that?” Quinn rebutted incredulously.
Natalie was taken aback. “What do you mean?”
“You were a total snob when you came to this country. Now you’re not. You had a problem with spending. Now you don’t.”
“That’s different, Quinn. That’s an addiction I struggle with every day.”
“Yeah, and work has been my addiction. But people learn to manage their addictions so it doesn’t ruin their lives.” He tenderly brushed his face against her hair. “One more chance, Nat. Please.”
Natalie felt her resolve weakening. “Quinn . . .”
“I know you’re afraid of getting hurt. But I swear that won’t happen again. I swear it.”
Natalie swallowed hard as she held his gaze. The love for her that she saw in his eyes was so intense she had to look away. He was right: people could change. And she was indeed proof of that. Didn’t he deserve the benefit of the doubt?
“All right,” she whispered, her defenses crumbling. “You can have another chance. But if you—”
He didn’t allow her to finish, silencing her with a kiss. Natalie succumbed to it, fully allowing yearning to conquer fear. She loved this man, and he loved her. They could have what Vivi and Anthony had. They could.
The kiss ended far too soon. Were it up to Natalie, they would keep kissing as romantic music swirled around them. “I love you, ma petite jambon.”
She kiss
ed his nose. “I am not ‘your little ham.’ And God knows why, but I love you, too.”
38
SIX MONTHS LATER
“You’re offering me a job?”
Natalie couldn’t hide her bewilderment as she sat across from Anthony at Dante’s. Three weeks ago, Aldo, the restaurant’s beloved headwaiter and Anthony’s right-hand man, died of a sudden heart attack. It was a shock to everyone but most especially to Anthony and Michael, who had known the old man all their lives. Vivi had told Natalie that Anthony had been walking around in a daze since the old man’s death but that in the past few days he’d seemed to pull out of it, more out of necessity than anything else. Natalie was puzzled when Anthony asked her to stop by on her day off, assuming it had to do with Vivi. She was shocked when they sat down and he asked her if she wanted to manage the restaurant.
Anthony nodded.
“But you know how little experience I have,” Natalie pointed out, puzzled.
“Yeah, but you’re never gonna get experience unless someone gives you a shot. And now that Aldo’s gone . . .” Anthony’s voice trailed off sadly.
Natalie was confused. “I thought Aldo was the headwaiter.”
“He was, but he was also the manager, even though he never officially held that title.”
“And you’re willing to let me fill his shoes?”
“Someone’s got to. Why not you? I know you. I trust you.”
Natalie’s mind was churning. “But what if I make a mess of things? Make mistakes?”
“Then I’ll scream at you,” Anthony said matter-of-factly, “but you’ll know I don’t mean it, and eventually, you’ll stop making mistakes.”
“You don’t expect me to waitress, too, do you?”
“No. Just manage.”
Natalie peered at him skeptically. “Did Vivi put you up to this?”
“No.” Anthony looked mildly offended. “I am capable of an original thought, you know.”
With a Twist Page 30