by Jo Leigh
She came to a stop in front of the bookstore on the corner. “It’s okay, Tony. I know your ex was part of the community. The comments make sense. I don’t mind.”
“You have every right to mind like hell. That was intolerably rude.”
“You handled it very well, and now we’re here, and I want us to have a good time. You think we can?”
He took a deep breath and nodded. “Of course we can.”
“Good. I hope you’re not disappointed. I realize you’ve probably been here dozens of times.”
“The bookstore?”
“No, the museum.”
He looked again at what was directly in front of him. “Right. The Tenement Museum.”
“Do you mind going again?”
“To be honest, I haven’t technically been here before.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “Technically?”
“Paladino & Sons are sustaining donors. Have been since the first year, before it even opened. But, I don’t know. It’s like that old saying, ‘The cobbler’s kids have no shoes’? No, wait, I didn’t mean that one.”
“It’s all right. I get your point. So, interested in seeing it now?”
“With you? Sure.”
Her hand moved to take his, but she switched it up at the last minute, as if she had to cover a cough. Jesus. The charade was getting old. They entered the museum shop and joined a group of tourists listening to a spiel about the rules. Tony had to keep his thoughts to himself when the rule about no touching came up. They meant the rooms, the displays, of course, but all he could do was look at how beautiful Catherine was with her hair pinned up. He loved it the other way, too, but this showed off her long graceful neck, and damn, he wanted a taste. Right now. Screw everybody.
“Tony?”
He met her gaze. “Yeah?”
“We’re starting now.”
“Right. Sorry. Got caught up thinking.”
“Are you sure you want to do this? It won’t hurt my feelings if you don’t.”
“I really do.”
“Then come on. I don’t want to miss anything.”
They caught up to the group a minute later. There were fifteen people, most of whom were German tourists. As the museum employee told them about the time frames of the great immigration movements from Europe during the late-eighteenth and early-nineteenth centuries, Tony watched Catherine. She was captivated. Unguardedly joyful. Every part of her was present in the way that few people in his life were. Most people listened with half an ear, waiting for their phones to ring. Not Catherine. She was all or nothing. It felt as if the only time he could focus his thoughts on a single topic was when he was with her.
Although after each visit, the jolt back to his regular life was becoming more difficult.
It had been risky to engage in an affair with a client. Let alone when he’d just taken over the business. He’d felt guilty about it in the beginning, but not anymore.
He had to admit, he was dreading the day when she realized she would never belong to the private members club that was his neighborhood. If he could, he’d protect her from that forever. But she wasn’t one of the new crop of tenants who didn’t give a crap about Little Italy. To most of them, the idea of the old neighborhood had overstayed its welcome years ago. Just her bad luck that she’d bought one of the very last single-family homes in the whole area, probably the most coveted house in the Lower East Side.
It had always bothered him that he and Catherine couldn’t be openly together, but now it was becoming a steady ache. If it was just him who’d be affected, Tony would have told them all to go to hell. Catherine, though... He cared a lot that she’d be considered even more of a pariah than she already was.
The tour reached the second floor, the one-time apartment of the Baldizzi family. He didn’t recognize the name, but he knew if he went back to the archives his family had collected—copies of census forms, birth and death records, anything they could gather from the time period—the Baldizzis would be there. It was this world his great-great-grandparents had occupied, in a building just like this one.
His brilliant great-great-grandfather, who’d seen the future, had invested every penny he and his brothers had earned into real estate. Tony had mentioned something about it to Catherine when she’d asked about his parents’ home. But he’d been careful. No one who wasn’t family could know about the trust. About the buildings the Paladinos owned in and around Little Italy.
It was just another barrier between the two of them.
The tour was on the move again, filing from the preserved tiny kitchen into a room that had been modified as New York had passed laws to make these horrible squats more bearable.
He turned to Catherine to tell her about what it had been like before indoor plumbing, but the educator got to her first.
“Hey, Catherine,” the guy said.
“Hey, Vito,” she said. “Great tour, as always. You do such a wonderful job.” She looked to Tony and told the museum employee, “By the way, this is my friend Tony Paladino. He’s lived here all his life but he’s never been to the museum before.”
The guy, who looked to be a few years younger than Tony, held out his hand. “Nice to meet you in person. We all appreciate what the Paladino family has done for the museum. Catherine’s a regular here. I hope you’ll become one, as well.”
Tony just nodded, feeling a little uncomfortable to be singled out. Good thing he’d already mentioned his family’s involvement to her, not that it was a big deal...
“Well, we both love the history of the Lower East Side,” Catherine said. “And I learn something new every time I’m here.”
“You could be giving the tours already. Hey, you know, you should really think about volunteering. Anyway, just wanted to say hello. I need to...” He pointed his thumb behind him, at the group.
“See you soon,” she said.
“How many times have you been here?” Tony asked.
She turned to him, jumping a little when she realized how close he was standing.
He hadn’t realized he’d moved, much less that he was close enough to her to feel her breath on his chin. Her lips were parted, her eyes alive with excitement, so he stayed right where he was and took her hand in his. “There’s nothing decorative that you could use for your home in here, is there? I mean, the walls are covered in burlap. The floors are new, the window coverings, too, I think.”
“It’s not about finding things for my place. I truly do love this area, and I want to know as much as I can about it. Besides, they have several tours, not just this one. The things they’ve unearthed from so many decades ago are amazing. It’s one of my favorite places.”
“Huh. I learn something new about you every time I see you.”
“Every time?”
“Just about.” It would be so easy to lean down and kiss her. The temptation was so great he wasn’t sure he would be able to resist.
“We don’t have to stay, if you don’t want to. It’s a long tour.”
“No, I want you to enjoy yourself. I’m having a good time.”
She looked down at their joined hands. “Is this a wise idea?”
“Everyone here is a tourist.”
“Not everyone.” She glanced over her shoulder at Vito. “He lives off Bowery. Knows a lot of people. Part of the reason I come here so often is because of the volunteers. Not all of them live in the neighborhood, but, like Vito—” she lowered her voice, even though she’d been whispering “—like Vito, they’ve been very welcoming.”
“You still haven’t met your next-door neighbors, have you?”
“Not officially. Although I have run into them a few times.”
Tony let go of her hand. It was shitty that no one had dropped by to officially welcome her. Naturally, he’d know
n the two old ladies wouldn’t say boo to her, but he’d figured Deanna, Mrs. Masucci’s daughter, might stop by. Or maybe Isabel from across the street, even if only to indulge her own curiosity. He hated that Catherine would end up so disillusioned.
Maybe he should have warned her that first day they’d met. Although if anyone had a chance to win over some of these archaic, narrow-minded folks, it was Catherine.
“We should go,” she said, taking hold of his shirtsleeve and pulling him back from the latest exhibit.
“Why?”
“You don’t look like you’re having a good time.”
“I am,” he said, his voice loudly interrupting the lecture. He winced and held up an apologetic hand, then let Catherine lead the way out.
On the stairs, out of hearing range, he stopped her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to spoil this adventure. I was enjoying it.”
“Until Vito came by.”
Tony could instantly feel his face flush. “It had nothing to do with him. I’m embarrassed I haven’t been here before. We can continue with the tour. I promise to be good.”
“Oh, I know exactly how good you are. Let’s go. I really do want to finish the sconces.”
“Is that all?”
She grinned. “As if you haven’t been thinking about it since you fell asleep on me the other night.”
He checked the stairwell, and then pulled her close into a kiss. He didn’t linger, though. “You’re right. I haven’t stopped thinking about you for days.”
“Believe me, it’s mutual. And while I’m feeling brave, I wanted to ask you if you’d consider being my date at the World Health Organization banquet. It’s not until next month, but—”
“Yeah, sure.” He felt an odd kind of relief, as though he’d subconsciously been waiting for her to ask. “Count on it.”
“It’s black tie.”
“No worries. So, home or tour?”
“Home,” she decided. “I want to kiss you properly.”
He took her hand and pulled her down the stairs, not really bothering to keep too much distance between them. The rumors would come, regardless, although when he got closer to her block, he’d be more careful.
He resented it. Again. Even though it had all been his idea. What he wanted was to just say fuck it, and kiss her right in the middle of Mulberry Street teeming with pedestrians. But thinking it through, he knew there would be consequences, and he’d do anything he could to make sure this amazing woman didn’t get her heart broken.
16
THE SCENT OF citrus came first, seconds before the light behind his closed eyelids stirred him from a very sound sleep. That Catherine’s head rested on his chest and her arm lay across him a few inches down made him hum.
Waking to a naked Catherine was a damn fine thing.
“I like this,” she said, and he felt her warm breath on his skin. “You’re a very comfortable body pillow.”
“Glad I could oblige,” he said, his voice sleep-filled and rough. “I don’t want to move. Maybe not ever again. Would that be okay?”
“Absolutely. We have everything we need, right? Wine. Cookies. Yep, that’s it.”
“Sounds great,” he murmured. “Although if we could turn off the light, that would be better.”
She rubbed her foot up his calf and pressed her body closer. “Uh, I don’t think that’s possible.”
“No?”
“I haven’t been able to control the sun in ages,” she said. “And I don’t have blackout curtains.”
Tony stilled. Then opened his eyes. “Shit.”
“Um, I can always buy some.”
“No. It’s not...” He turned his head just far enough to see the clock on her nightstand. It was a quarter to eight. In the fucking morning.
“I know what. Let’s have a quickie, then shower, then go get breakfast at Katz’s.” She kissed him on the shoulder. “I want eggs and bagels.”
“I can’t.”
“Oh?” Catherine raised her head to look at him. “Something’s wrong.”
“We fell asleep.”
“Well, yes. We had very vigorous sex and then we both conked out.”
The bells from the church on Mott rang out, and he knew he had to get up now. Right now. He kissed her forehead. “I’ve got to get going.”
“But it’s Sunday.”
“Exactly. It’s my turn to take my folks and Nonna to Mass. I’ll barely make it in time. I’m going to take a quick shower, if that’s okay. Or, no. Wait.” He hated to do it, but he had to untangle himself from Catherine. “I’ll call Luca. Maybe he can take them.” At least Tony’s jeans weren’t far, just on the floor next to the bed.
Damn it. This was not good. As he hit the speed dial button for Luca, he realized he had no choice but to wear the clothes he’d worn yesterday. No way that would escape the eyes that always seemed to be on him these days.
“No answer?”
He shook his head. “Dom’s not even around today, or I’d have him go. I can’t not take them. And later I have to...” He shook his head. “Nothing. Just family stuff.”
Catherine sat up, pulling the sheet over her breasts as she leaned against the headboard. “I’m assuming the unfortunate part is you having to leave my house in broad daylight?”
“Everyone’s going to church, and a lot of them walk. It’s not very far from here.”
“I’m sorry. I know you’ve wanted to avoid this. I imagine it won’t do your business any good if this gets around.”
He stood, slid on his jeans. “I’m not worried about me. Or the company. It’s you I’m concerned about.”
“Me? I don’t care. Let them talk. They’ll get bored with me eventually.”
He sighed. “You don’t understand.”
She frowned, looking confused, maybe a little hurt, and it bothered him that he couldn’t stay. But he had to be on time; his mother had a thing about being late for Mass. But there was no way he was leaving Catherine like this. He sat back down on the bed, leaned over and kissed her. “It’s fine. Honest.”
“You know, if people are busy getting their kids and themselves ready for church, I bet they don’t even notice you,” she said.
“You’re probably right.” So many people and all those windows? Not a chance in hell. But he knew she was trying to make him feel better, and he smiled. Her expression told him he’d missed the mark. “Damn it, I hate abandoning you like this.”
She opened her mouth, but she must have changed her mind because she closed it again, and gave him a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, brushing the back of his fingers across her pale cheek.
“It’s okay. Go. In fact, how about I call you a cab? Less chance that you’ll be spotted.”
“Good thinking. Thanks.” He kissed her one more time, then grabbed his shirt off the chair against the wall, his socks and shoes, and hurried into the bathroom.
It wasn’t just getting his family to Mass. He’d drop them off, go home to shower and change, then go back to the church to take his father home. There’d be another run to the church later. His mother and Nonna helped in the kitchens in the afternoon, with their women’s group, making food for the Bowery homeless shelter and meals for the housebound members of the congregation. It was that gathering of women he was most concerned about.
If someone saw him leave Catherine’s, which he knew was highly likely, that was where they’d talk. But would they talk about him when his mother was right there?
What was he thinking? Of course they would. They lived for this kind of bullshit. They’d be filled with false sympathy. Poor Theresa, whose oldest boy couldn’t keep away from the medigan and was making a fool of himself in front of everyone. And with a client, no less. Hell, eve
n if no one brought it up at the women’s group, word would spread. His father would be disappointed. And so soon after Tony had taken over for him.
Oddly, none of that mattered to him half as much as the blowback Catherine would suffer. If his mom had to put up with the gossip, that was her problem. She wasn’t shy about speaking her mind; she could tell them to mind their own damn business. As for his father, Tony was handling the office just fine.
But Catherine had no idea that this kind of talk could be what drove her out of the community she wanted so much to embrace her. He’d seen it happen to people who weren’t nearly as invested in belonging.
He finished brushing his teeth with the only thing he kept at Catherine’s, ran his fingers through his hair, kissed her, then headed downstairs. Leaving Catherine this way was shitty. He’d make it up to her, though. Somehow.
He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the cab waiting at the curb. But he couldn’t stop thinking about how awkward it had been between them.
* * *
AS CATHERINE WALKED down Grand, she couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened with Tony. He’d finally spent the night at her house, something she’d wanted for a while. But his brushing her aside with the quick and generic excuse of having to do “family stuff” made her uncomfortable. She’d already met them—what was he trying to hide?
But the real heart of her problem was his certainty that something terrible was going to happen because he’d spent the night.
There were a couple reasons she could think of that might explain his irrational fear. It was possible that rumors had caused him a lot of grief before. Something to do with his ex-wife, perhaps? It certainly seemed as though his precious community thought their divorce was a horrible mistake.
That, or else he believed that some of the neighbors were so vicious that he’d lose customers over sleeping with a client. That seemed extreme, especially given how highly regarded Paladino & Sons were in the community. Still, she supposed it could be what was worrying him.