***
The next afternoon, Ariella walked with Layla, holding her hand, to Enzo’s house. Grandpop held Layla’s other hand. Becca and Pete strolled behind, Pete carrying the bags of gifts and food from Grandpop.
Ariella still couldn’t wrap her mind around Lorenzo Calabra as a happy family man—he and his father had both been notorious womanizers, and Vincenzo Calabra was cold and unkind. But, maybe Lorenzo had managed to be different. His mom’s family, the DeGrazias, were full of twists and surprises. Joey—both a DeGrazia and a D’Angelo—was a winning combination of the two: passionate and exciting yet steady and rugged. And handsome—he jogged to meet them as the front door opened.
“Ah, welcome! Ariella, it’s been too long.” Enzo DeGrazia spread his arms wide, a smile on his lean, clean-shaven face, his silver hair gleaming in the mellow December sunlight.
She hugged him, breathing in his lemony scent. The citrus notes were similar to the orange-tinged cologne Papa used to wear. She stayed in Enzo’s arms a moment, blinking away tears. Tears of sadness, and joy.
Enzo released her and greeted his family before bending to Layla’s level. “And who’s this pretty young lady?”
“Enzo, this is my daughter, Layla. Layla, this is Mr. Enzo DeGrazia.”
Layla shook his hand, beaming a smile. “You’re Grandpop’s brother?”
Enzo nodded. “He’s poached the Grandpop title already with you, so maybe you’ll call me Uncle Enzo?”
“Or you could call him Gramps, like I do,” Joey said.
“I’d like that,” Enzo said with a searching look at Ariella and Joey.
Her cheeks heated. Why would Joey want Layla to call his Grandpa “Gramps” unless he wanted… She shook her head. He hadn’t given any indication what type of relationship he wanted. And she wasn’t sure how to forge what she wanted with him, yet.
“Two grandpas,” Layla whispered with the reverence of a prayer.
Joey touched Layla’s head. Enzo smiled. “Then you agree, Layla?”
“Yes, Gramps, I do!” Layla hugged Enzo.
I do… Ariella peeked at Joe, who gazed at her with a serious expression that made her heart quicken, a flamenco step gone erratic.
“Do we get to meet the baby?” Layla asked.
Enzo stood. “Certainly. Everyone’s in the living room.”
Layla grasped his and Grandpop’s hands. Ariella noticed Sophia scowling at her from the kitchen doorway. She half-smiled tentatively, hoping the critical way Sophia had been looking at her the night before was her imagination, but Sophia ignored her, walking the tray she carried to the living room. Joey glanced at his mom, then Ariella. His strong brows tugged together. They followed everyone into the living room. The house hadn’t changed much since Ariella had last seen it. Paintings of the Amalfi Coast hung on the foyer walls, rich carpets in blues and creams softened the wood floors, and the scent of fresh bread wafted in the warm air.
In the living room, the pocket doors pushed back, the colors echoed those in the foyer. Sophia set the tray on the coffee table. Celeste D’Angelo—now DeGrazia—greeted them all, hugging Ariella and Layla. Lorenzo, who’d been smoothing the dark shock of hair on his baby son’s head, rose from the sofa arm, where he’d been leaning. On the sofa sat a doe-eyed, petite, pretty woman who held a baby bundled in a white blanket, his dark hair and intent brown eyes like Lorenzo’s. Ariella and Lorenzo shook hands.
“Good to see you again,” he said in a voice that had made Ariella’s high school girlfriends speechless.
“You too.” Good to see that he had changed. The Lorenzo she’d known had avoided babies and children, nothing of a family man in him then. Anything was possible.
He introduced his wife, Lita, who smiled, looking like a painting of the Madonna and child, down to the shafts of light from the windows. Ariella introduced Layla, who edged closer to the baby. Her eyes widened.
“You can come over here, Layla,” Lita said. “This is Angelo. I hope you two will be friends.”
“He has brown eyes, like me. Are all babies so quiet?”
“No, and he’s not always quiet.” Lita’s smile tweaked at one corner of her lips.
Lorenzo sat near Lita and Angelo. They included Layla in their conversation. Ariella smiled and glanced at the lively groupings. Her life in Tucson had been so quiet. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed the sounds of family. She hadn’t let herself miss these sights and sounds and pleasures. She’d just moved forward, being strong for Layla. But, there was strength in togetherness, and, like Joe had said, in vulnerability.
Joey touched her back. She trembled, the tiny shiver whirring up her spine. “Mom wants me to bring out another tray. Want to help me?”
She nodded. Sophia didn’t look pleased, with her scowl. Was no one good enough for her son? Or did she see something wrong in her?
Chapter Eleven
Joey led Ariella into the kitchen. It was warmer even than the living room. Aunt Celeste must’ve been baking all morning, from the yeasty smell and array of breads and cookies cooling on the counters.
“Hey,” he said to his cousins Vincente and Gina. It was a bit weird, his cousins getting married, but they weren’t related. It’d been good, actually, bringing the two sides of his family together—D’Angelo and DeGrazia—after so many years of animosity. The truce held, but the years of arguing and rifts had left scars. He stood still.
“Merry Christmas,” Gina said, her hand on her pregnant belly. Vincente gave a nod in greeting. “Ariella. Oh wow! I’d heard you were back. Earlier this year, Joey and I were wondering about you, and here you are, home again. Remember, Joey?” Gina hugged Ariella, giving him a conspiratorial look.
“I remember,” he said, more to himself, as Ariella and Gina were already talking about all the family news, or Ariella was asking and Gina answering in her quick, excited way. His conversation with Gina had been one of his lame attempts at finding out something about Ariella.
“How’s it going?” Vincente asked him. “Grandpop says it’s been good having you around more over the holidays.”
“Been good for me too. Thanks for getting your crew to work so fast on my place. It was getting too much staying at my parents. And everything’s fine at your house, but I think he’ll be glad when you’re home.”
“No problem—I know you need some space, especially after work. We’ll be home soon. Will we see you there?”
“No, I’ve got work. Maybe on New Year’s Eve?”
Vincente nodded and glanced at Gina. He had it bad, the way he looked at her like he was a hungry man who’d come across a feast. “Yeah. Can’t believe it, but Gina wants to go to the party at Gianni’s. Pregnancy hasn’t slowed her down.” He half-smiled.
Mom walked in. “Vincente, would you mind taking the tray? And Gina, I think Celeste wants to ask you something.”
“Nice to meet you,” Vincente said to Ariella as he picked up the tray with coffee service.
Gina waved and joined her husband.
Mom gripped the countertop of the island. “Ariella, do you mind if I speak to my son alone?” It was the longest sentence Mom had spoken to Ariella since she’d returned.
Ariella nodded and began walking to the door.
“I mind,” he said. “What’s going on, Mom? You’re not good at hiding when you’re upset.”
“All right. I suppose it might as well be in the open between us.” She stood at the island, now fingering a folded towel.
Ariella stopped and glanced between them. Joey pulled her to him. Whatever doubts he might have, and however much he didn’t know where he wanted this to go, he wanted to stand by Ariella, support her, keep her here.
“Joey, honey,” Mom said. “I know you used to like Ariella. I can see that hasn’t changed. Has she…” Mom frowned at Ariella. “Have you told him the truth, about you and Brent Scofield?”
Ariella met Mom’s stare. He scrutinized her. “She’s told me enough. How do you know anything about him, or
them?”
“His mother told me. She was so ashamed. She had nothing to be ashamed of.” Mom emphasized the “she.” It was clear who Mom thought should be ashamed—Ariella.
“Neither does Ariella.” He held her hand as she stood next to him, still and quiet.
“She killed an innocent baby.”
Ariella sucked in a breath. Joey tried to pull her closer, but her arm was limp. “Mom, I know how you feel, but don’t talk to Ariella like that. Understand?”
“Don’t speak to me in that tone, Joseph D’Angelo. What she did is wrong, shameful.”
“She was just eighteen. She’d just lost her whole family—”
“You’re right, Sophia,” Ariella said, trying to pull her hand away from his. “But I can’t change it.”
“Stop it, both of you,” he ground out. What the hell. He had to leave for work soon. He didn’t need this now. Ever, really. Family drama wasn’t what any of them needed. He’d hoped they’d finally started to put that behind them. And he couldn’t make Ariella change her feelings. He’d tried. She had to do that herself.
“A woman who would have an abortion isn’t the woman for you, Joseph.” Mom placed one hand on the island, the other on her hip.
Joey clenched his jaw. Ariella’s body sagged. “She’s right, she’s right,” Ariella whispered.
He squeezed her hand. “No.” He tightened his jaw. “Mom, have you talked to Dad about Ariella’s past, and your feelings?” He needed back-up.
Mom shook her head.
“Talk to him. I’m done. I love you, Mom, but I decide who I see and don’t see. I’ve let you set me up all you want, indulged your ideas. But I decide who the right woman is for me.”
Grandpop strode in. “Everything okay in here?”
A welcome interruption, before he really lost his temper. And maybe he could get some time to figure out how to help Ariella. “No. Can you take care of Ariella? I’ve got to get to work.” Anger rippled through him as his mind sped. “Did you feed me false information about Ariella all those years ago? And keep what you’ve known since from me?” He faced Grandpop.
Ariella stiffened, turning. She leaned her back against the island. “Joey—”
“Yes, I did,” Grandpop said. “I promised her I’d keep her secrets.”
He ground his teeth together. A part of him respected that Grandpop had honored Ariella’s wishes. But a bigger part felt betrayed, and angry that Grandpop’s usual meddling “I know best” ways hadn’t included keeping Ariella home, and safe. She’d been a hurt young woman who wasn’t making good decisions. He shook his head.
“Joey,” Ariella said in a tired voice, “I don’t want to cause problems.”
“You didn’t cause this.” He waved a hand toward Mom. He kissed Ariella’s forehead. “You were a confused teenager. They were the adults who’d promised to look out for you.” He’d tried, he’d wanted to. He still did. But she was a woman now, and she had to forgive herself. Good advice, maybe for him too.
“I made my own choices.” Her voice was stronger.
“Yes, but they should have supported you.” He gazed at her.
She kept her head down. “Grandpop did support me. It was my choice to leave. I don’t want my past to cause problems in your family. You love your family.”
He glanced at Grandpop and Mom. “Aren’t either of you going to apologize?”
“We both did what we thought was right,” Mom said.
He shook his head. “Ariella, do you want to leave? I can take you on my way to work.”
“No, thanks. Layla’s having a good time. Can’t you stay a few minutes?” She took his hand, gripping tightly like a scared little kid. But she didn’t sound scared, or look it. Her gaze was steady now, her voice stronger still. “We need to resolve this.”
“I don’t think that’ll happen today. The issue isn’t really with them.” He motioned to Mom and Grandpop. “It’s with you, feeling ashamed.”
She nodded. He glanced at his watch. He couldn’t do this now. He didn’t know what to do, besides take her in his arms. But that hadn’t helped her forgive herself before.
“I can’t be late. I’ll see you in a few days.” He could see her before then, but it seemed like they both needed time to figure out how to let go of the past, and where they wanted to take what was happening now.
He caressed her arms. She kissed his cheek. “I’ll still be at Grandpop’s. Stay safe.”
“Joe,” Grandpop said.
“Gotta go.” His job could be stressful. He didn’t need manufactured stress. And he shouldn’t be going to work angry. He wasn’t hearing apologies, or anything to cool his temper. He’d have to do that himself. Like Ariella had to forgive herself. But more could’ve been done to keep her here, and safe, before. He could’ve done more. “Say bye to everyone for me.” He strode out. Felt like he was most angry at himself for not having had the courage to tell Ariella how he’d really felt, for not comforting her in a way that worked, for not being the man she needed.
Was he doing the same now?
He rolled his shoulders then hopped in his car. Nothing to be done now. His job was important to him too. He was needed there. Hopefully he’d have time for both.
Chapter Twelve
Ariella watched Joe leave. The front door shut. She glanced at Sophia. “Sophia, I’d like to talk.” She drew herself up. She’d put on a brave mask when all she’d wanted to do was crumple into Joe’s arms and cry all her unshed tears.
Sophia shook her head. “Another time.” Her voice choked. She brushed her hands on her skirt and walked out.
Her cheeks stung, as if Sophia had slapped her with her rejection. She turned to Grandpop. “I don’t want this—stress and strife.”
Grandpop threw up his hands. “What family doesn’t have stress and strife? We’ll pull together.” He placed his hand on her arm. “Joe’s right, you need to forgive yourself. We’re all here. You and Layla are safe.”
She closed her eyes a moment. The tears disappeared, threatened rain that never falls. Joe was right, in so many ways. “Joe’s my safe place. I want to create that for him.”
“He’s a lucky man. You tell me what I can do.” He patted her arm gently and dropped his hand.
“I expect you’ve already been doing plenty.” The Christmas gifts, Joe happening to be there when he, Becca, and Pete had taken Layla out…
He shrugged. She hugged him. He hooked her arm under his. “You ready to join the others?”
She nodded and they strolled out to the living room. She warmed again, seeing how at home Layla was. Everyone took her in as part of the family. Almost everyone. Sophia hung back from the group. She motioned to her husband and whispered to him. He nodded.
“Sophia and I better get going,” Carlo said. “We’ll see you soon.”
They exchanged hugs with Lorenzo, Lita, Enzo, Celeste, Becca, Pete, Gina, and Vincente. Carlo bent down at Layla’s level. “Nice to meet you, Layla. Hope we’ll see you soon.”
Layla shook his outstretched hand. “Thank you, Joey’s dad.”
He smiled, but this faded when he stood and met his wife’s pained expression. At least Carlo seemed to accept her and Layla like the rest of the family did. Her cheeks heated. Sophia had been Mamá’s best friend. She was Joe’s mother. Ariella hadn’t been able to face everyone at eighteen, but now she had to make things right with Sophia, for herself, for Joe. Ariella met them at the doorway to the hall. “Sophia, can I take you to lunch this week? So we can talk.”
Sophia glanced at Carlo, who had his hand protectively on Sophia’s lower back, much like Joe had done for her earlier. Sophia closed her eyes a moment. When she opened them, she nodded.
“Why don’t you come to lunch in a couple of days? I think a private place would be better.”
“Thank you. Can I bring anything? How about my mom’s pineapple empanadas?”
Sophia touched her throat, fingering her delicate cross necklace. “That would be nice, than
ks. See you at twelve-thirty?”
Ariella nodded. It was a start. Carlo gave her a smile as he passed, ushering Sophia out.
“You’ve become quite a woman,” Grandpop said in a quiet voice. “That’s all the repayment I need.”
She leaned her shoulder into him for a moment. She watched Lorenzo, Lita, Angelo, Enzo, Celeste, Gina, Vincente, Becca, and Pete, who were all chatting with Layla—family. She lifted her head, a new lightness radiating from her toes, through her legs. She wasn’t tensing to run, or anticipating danger. She and Layla were safe.
Grandpop moved toward the refreshments on the coffee table and made himself a small plate. He sat in a wingback armchair near the fireplace, overseeing the grouping like the family patriarch.
“Ariella, won’t you sit here and tell us how you’ve been?” Celeste created a place between her and Enzo on the long sofa.
Ariella sat between them and inhaled slowly. She breathed in belonging, family, home. She could realize her dreams. If she dared to risk her heart.
***
A couple of days later, Ariella stood outside Sophia and Carlo’s, a plate of empanadas in hand. She shifted her feet. Becca, who was still on vacation, was watching Layla. The three had formed a real friendship, something Ariella had missed, that sisterhood.
She glanced at her outfit, which she’d chosen carefully: boots, light grey slacks, a muted burgundy blouse, and a long sweater. Her cross necklace flashed from atop the conservatively closed blouse. Her necklace had been Mamá’s. She squared her shoulders and knocked on the door.
After a few moments, Carlo opened the door. She let out the breath she’d been holding.
“Ariella, good to see you again.”
No smile accompanied his words. She didn’t move. She needed to do this. She gripped the plate.
“Come on in.” He waited for her to enter then shut the door. He touched her shoulder. “Sophia told me what’s going on. I hope we can resolve this—what’s past is past.” His voice, and expression, softened. “Let’s go. Sophia’s in the kitchen.”
She nodded. Her mouth dried, a too-floury pie crust. The kind of relationship she dreamed of needed family support, not division. She believed Joey needed that too. Whether he wanted a serious relationship was another question. She hadn’t heard from him, but Grandpop had said he was busy with work. And he probably needed space to decompress. She and Jorge had talked sometimes about cops, after she’d told him her dreams, and her hopes about Joe. Jorge had dated a cop once, and he knew many through his work as a prosecutor and then a private practice criminal lawyer.
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