Can't Stop Loving You

by Miranda Liasson

  He rowed them to shore and banked the boat. Then he helped her out and held her hand. The hill before them was now planted with a lovely manicured lawn that could have been golf-course grade. Gone were the cattails and long, marshy grasses, the unkempt weeds everywhere. A clump of ornamental grass was in full bloom, lush and tall.

  Beyond the grass, the cabin was . . . gone. In its place was a modern timber lake house, large and laden with ground-to-roof windows.

  “Wow,” Bella said. “Things have changed.” The only thing that was the same was an uncut field between the property and the woods, full of tall grass and golden wildflowers.

  Roman was looking at her. “Is that a bad thing?”

  “No. I don’t think it is.” She smiled. “I think I’ve had enough, though. It’s very new, but it’s a little . . . boring.” She pulled him back toward the lake. “Let’s head back to the boat.”

  “You’re a better view than anything else around here anyway.” Suddenly, he stopped. Tugged her into the tall grass. He held her hand and kissed her knuckles, each one in succession.

  Which was so romantic she almost cried. But she was so, so nervous. She had to get this off her chest. “Roman, speaking of us, there are certain things I feel we should talk about.”

  His face brightened. Why in God’s name would it do that, right when she was about to tell him about the lowest moment of her life? She opened her mouth to speak, to get out the words, to say, Roman, I lied to you. I drove you away on purpose . . .

  “I’m glad you mentioned that, actually,” he said. “Because I have something on my mind, too. Look, I know you’re apprehensive about us being together, but Bella, I feel so—great about us. I want to shout it out to everyone. Kind of like this.”

  “Wh—” Before she could ask him what the hell he was doing, he’d picked her up and slung her over his shoulder, spinning them around the field, letting out a few whoops. She let out a little scream of laughter from her upside-down spot, then tried to clamp her mouth shut, hoping they hadn’t attracted the attention of the owners. Roman, unfazed, set her down and pulled her further into the field.

  In the middle of all the golden grasses and white and yellow wildflowers waving in the breeze, he again took up her hands, gazing at her solemnly, reminding her of that look of teenage earnestness he’d worn so long ago. It made her heart flutter at the same time it made it sink with dread. She felt like she was in midair on a tightrope, close to safety yet one step just as close to plummeting into an abyss.

  “I want to hold your hand in public,” he said. “I want to walk down the street with you, and go to dinner with you, and kiss you in front of your friends.”

  Suddenly he was kissing her, hard, thoroughly, and she was totally under his spell, all her thoughts scattering like the grasshoppers in the field. They tumbled down into the grass, the heat of the sun warm, crickets chirping their last swan song.

  Oh, she was in trouble. Big trouble, as she kissed him back, getting lost in the taste of him, the perfect slide of their tongues, the skillful work of his hands as they skimmed her body. “I’ll think about it,” she managed, smiling against his shoulder as she helped him drag off his shirt.

  “Okay. Think about it.” He looked down at her, grinning. “But not too hard.”

  Truthfully, she couldn’t think of a thing, just him, the overwhelming, overpowering presence he’d always had, the ability to sweep her off her feet and make her forget everything else in the world. Then she went back to kissing him until there was nothing but the sun, the golden field, and the warmth of his body against hers.

  CHAPTER 17

  Roman pulled up the garden center driveway in his truck and parked in front of Bella’s house. Three other cars besides Bella’s father’s truck were sitting in the gravel drive, leading Roman to believe the whole family was probably gathered for their traditional Sunday dinner.

  He was taking a big risk coming here. But he had a plan, and now was as good a time as any to begin to scale the big, burly mountain of Vito D’Angelo. If Roman could somehow get Vito to tolerate him, Bella would feel more comfortable about their relationship. The man had wielded his power over them for too long.

  Roman wanted a chance with Bella, out in the open, and he wanted them to be free to feel what they wanted. They weren’t adolescents sneaking around. Besides, sitting in his living room thinking about her and watching his troubled brother eat his way through another bag of potato chips wasn’t cutting it.

  As a kid, he’d once lost everything that mattered to him, and as a young man, it had happened again when he’d lost her. He knew he had a tendency to be a loner, to hold tight to control, but he’d matured. His feelings for her had gotten deeper and more complex with age, like his brandy. He wanted to risk it all for her. At the same time he kept warning himself not to feel anything, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. He was violating all his own rules. But it felt . . . right.

  He let Bella’s dog out of the passenger side of his truck and walked across the driveway to knock on the kitchen door. Laughter and voices drifted out from inside the house. Roman cleared his throat. Looked down at the dog. “Okay, so maybe this isn’t the best time to do this. But maybe it is.” The dog thumped her tail on the cement and stared at him with big brown eyes. “Don’t look at me like that, okay? I’m going to take the first step. This is as good a time as any.”

  Then Bella would see that this whole situation wasn’t so bad. They were all adults, for God’s sake. And maybe he should have talked this over with her before he’d driven over here like this, but her family being here would be good. Vito would be less likely to lash out if other people were present. He hoped.

  He was taking a step forward. Surely the old man wouldn’t reject a gift. And it was finally time to get over the past. After all, Roman wasn’t a serial killer.

  Bella walked out wearing an old ruffly apron over a sweater and jeans—he bet it was her mother’s—and holding a wooden spoon. Seeing her in the middle of just living life was unexpected, and it brought a pang of wanting. And another, surprising one . . . of jealousy. He wanted to be able to share something so simple as fixing a meal with her. Sitting by her, putting his arm around her, chatting with her and her family. Things most people took for granted.

  The smells of basil and oregano and tomato sauce wafted toward him from the house. Her hair was pulled back, but a curl was hanging out of her ponytail. He couldn’t resist tugging on it a little, watching it spring back.

  He stepped forward to kiss her, wrapping his hands around her waist and pulling her close. Couldn’t help himself.

  She smelled like garlic and that wonderful flowery scent she always wore. The two didn’t necessarily go together, but somehow it fit. And the garlic part made his stomach growl. He put his mouth very close to her ear. “You look—and smell—good enough to eat.”

  “Roman!” she whispered, trying to pull away, but she was smiling. She grabbed his hands and pulled them off her hips. “My whole family’s here.”

  “Oh. Right.”

  When he stepped back, she noticed the dog by his side. “Gracie?” She looked puzzled. “Why does she keep wandering over to your place? The electric fence company is coming on Monday. Hopefully we’ll stop this problem,” she said, bending down to pet her dog and rub her nose in her silky fur.

  “She can’t resist me,” he said, shrugging. “I tend to have that effect on women.” He leveled his gaze on her. “I was hoping on you, too?”

  She stood and kissed him on the cheek and beamed him a smile that told him the answer. “Why are you here?” she asked.

  “Listen, Bella,” he said. He hesitated, not sure how much to say. I really want us to have a go at this came to mind, but instead he said, “I have something for your father.”

  “For my father?”

  He smiled. “Yeah.” He found himself tensing his jaw. Crossing his fingers and toes. Maybe he’d need to turn around three times and click his heels, too, because thi
s was important. Really important. A man like Vito D’Angelo did not forget, but Roman was about to find out if he was capable of forgiving him for getting his daughter pregnant. “Can you get him?”

  Bella went a little pale. She scanned his face. “Do you think that’s a good—”

  He gave her hand, the one that wasn’t holding the spoon, a quick squeeze. “I brought him a gift.”

  “A gift.”

  “Yeah. He’s going to like it.” If he’ll accept it, that is.

  “Okay, I’ll get him.” She paused. “I’d invite you to in, but, you know . . .”

  “I understand, Bella.” He made sure to smile. “I’ll wait in the driveway.”

  Bella didn’t have to get anyone, because Vito himself showed up at the door. “What’s he doing here?” he asked his daughter.

  “Hi, Mr. D’Angelo,” Roman said, his mouth suddenly going dry. He hadn’t been this nervous since he was eighteen, on that fated last day. But Roman didn’t want to remember that day. This was a new day, a new life, and the past didn’t get to have that control over him anymore. He walked forward, started to offer his hand to shake, but then thought better of it. No sense pushing his luck. “I brought you something.”

  He walked around to the back of his truck and unsnapped the tarp, exposing a bed full of crated apples. Vito eyed the crates, then levered his gaze on Roman.

  “What’s this for?” he asked.

  Roman handed him an apple. A big, firm one, with characteristic red striations against a paler background.

  “Honeycrisp,” Roman said. Beautiful and round and perfect. The orchard’s prize apple.

  “I know what they are,” Vito said. “They’re very much in demand this year.”

  “We had a big yield this year.” A great crop, considering how finicky they were to grow and pick and store. It was the most popular apple in the county—hell, make that the country right now—and the prices it went for were exorbitant.

  And Roman didn’t really give a shit about any of that. If it cost him a million dollars’ loss, he’d do it if it got him Bella.

  Vito took the apple and inspected it. “Very nice.”

  Roman smiled. “I know.” He looked at the older man. “They’re for you. A gift. They’re extra big this year and extra sweet.”

  “I’ll pay you for them, of course,” Vito said.

  “I want you to have them. As a neighborly gift.” He glanced at Bella. “A peace offering.”

  Bella looked like she was holding her breath. Then Ethan of all people walked out of the house, the screen smacking loudly behind him, and stood beside Bella.

  Vito didn’t say anything.

  “They’re nice apples, Dad,” Bella said, stepping up. “What a great gift.”

  Please take the damn apples, Vito, Roman thought. For your daughter’s sake. For my sake. Let’s just end this right here.

  “I can’t take them for free,” Vito said. “I’ll sell them and give you fifty percent, how’s that?”

  Vito scrutinized him. In his eyes, Roman saw questions, and skepticism, and suspicion. He debated whether he should insist on the gift part, but Vito was a proud man. Frankly, he was relieved he hadn’t told him to take his apples and shove them.

  “Deal,” he said, extending his hand.

  Vito didn’t shake. “We live next to each other. It’s okay if we do some business.”

  “Right. Great. Business,” Roman said.

  Vito turned to go back into the house. Francesca showed up alongside her brother and peeked over the truck bed. “They’re beautiful, Roman. Thank you very much. We were just about to sit down for dinner. Will you join us?”

  Vito frowned at his sister. Bella’s face went from pale to blanched. Ethan scowled.

  “Thanks,” Roman said, “but I really should be getting back—”

  Bella seemed to blow out a relieved breath. But Fran stepped forward and grabbed his arm. “Nonsense. Such a kind thing you’ve done. We’ve got plenty of food. Ethan’s here, and Gina and Manny are inside. We insist that you stay.”

  Vito shot his sister another look, but he didn’t protest, which Roman took as a good sign.

  Fran led Roman into the house, passing Bella, who stood there, lips pressed tightly together. This wasn’t what he’d planned, but what could he do? He telegraphed her an I’m sorry look, and she shrugged. He’d just have to prove to her that he could behave himself in front of her father and Ethan, too.

  The house hadn’t changed much from how he remembered it all those years ago. Oh, the furniture was different, thanks to Bella, no doubt, but he recognized the same hundred-year-old built-in mahogany cabinets on either side of the fireplace in the living room, the same heavily carved bannister on the steps, and the same antique Victorian buffet in the dining room, where everyone was sitting down for dinner.

  Fran guided him to the table, and he thanked her, but he ended up following Bella into the kitchen where she was gathering together the food. “I’ll go if you want me to,” he said. “I only intended to drop off the apples.”

  She handed him the salad bowl and smiled. “Nonsense. You’re staying. It’ll be all right.” But she looked worried. “Thanks for the apples,” she said. “It was kind of you.”

  “I did it for you, Bella.”

  “I know you did,” she said quietly, then quickly kissed him, glancing around to make certain no one had seen.

  “It’s going to be all right,” he said, leveling his gaze at her. “You’ll see.”

  Fran instructed him to take a seat between Joey and Ethan, who were talking about cars. Bella brought the lasagna out from the kitchen and sat next to Manny. Gracie, the traitor, had parked herself at Ethan’s feet, making Roman wonder if he kept dog treats in his pockets on his days off.

  “Where’s Gina?” Bella asked.

  “Feeding the baby,” Manny said. “She’ll be back in a little while.”

  “Go ahead and start without me,” Gina called from the living room. “This kid always seems to sense when it’s time for me to sit down and eat a meal.”

  “I’d breast-feed for you if I could, sweetheart,” Manny said, digging into his food. “Well, I would,” he said, specifically to Bella and Fran, who were looking at him funny. “She does that and then I get to change the diaper afterward. It’s all good.”

  “I just got the engine on my Jaguar tuned up,” Ethan said. “It purrs like a kitten now. I was thinking, Joe, it’s yours if you want to use it for homecoming.”

  “No way!” Joe said. “I mean”—he looked over a little apprehensively at his father—“only if it’s okay with my dad.”

  Vito waved his hand. “Okay by me.”

  “Ethan, thank you for bringing that delicious coconut cream pie,” Fran said.

  “Oh my God, there’s pie?” Gina called from the living room.

  “Homemade pie,” Bella said. “Ethan made it himself.”

  “Speaking of cars,” Vito said to Ethan. “I’m having problems with one of the tractors. Mind having a look at it later with me?”

  “Sure,” Ethan said in his usual good-natured way. “I brought my toolbox.”

  Figures. Animal lover, a whiz in the kitchen, fixer of tractors. He must’ve learned a thing or two in the past twelve years. And now he was just one of the family.

  Gina returned, burping the baby, but before she could sit down, Bella came over to her sister and took the baby from her. Bella bounced and patted her nephew’s back as she walked back and forth near the entrance to the big dining room.

  “Bella, your dinner’s getting cold,” Gina said, shoveling her food. “Sit down and eat.”

  “I have all night to eat, G. My little nephew and I are bonding.” She kissed the baby’s head as she burped him over her shoulder. “Aren’t we, you little stinker, not letting your mother eat her dinner?”

  The sight of Bella holding a baby hit him like a punch in the gut. He used to imagine, years ago, what it would be like, the two of them—just kid
s themselves—with a baby. Them rocking on a porch swing holding a baby, or lying in a real bed, a bed of their own in their own place, the baby between them, spending hours being amazed over every little milestone. Those were fantasies that never came to fruition. Dreams that got cut short.

  This was different. Not that he understood much more about the realities of raising a child, but somehow he could envision her being a mother, smoothing her hand over the baby’s soft hair and then looking up at him lovingly . . . teaching a child. Hugging a child. Their child.

  “Cute baby,” Roman said, distracting himself from the direction of his thoughts.

  “I mean, parenthood is amazing,” Manny said, “but sometimes I miss the good old days when we were young and single.” He turned to Roman. “Speaking of being young and single, I didn’t know you two were dating.”

  Suddenly, all eyes were on him, including Bella’s.

  “You two are dating?” Gina asked, her finger pointing back and forth between him and Bella. “Bella, why did you not tell me?”

  Vito’s fork hit the plate with a loud clatter. Fran put her hands on the table, ready to get up and intervene at any moment. Even Ethan stopped chewing.

  Bella laughed. A strange, high-pitched laugh. “We’re not dating, Manny,” she said, a little too emphatically, raking her fork through her salad. Not bothering to spear any lettuce. Not looking at Roman, either.

  Bella wasn’t making eye contact, but Ethan was. And his gaze was full of daggers.

  Manny was still running at the mouth. “Mrs. Landerhaven said Roman’s truck was parked in your lot all night the other night. And Saturday morning she saw—”

  “We’re not dating,” Bella said, cutting him off, staring at Manny from across the table. “End of story.”

  “Well, okay, then,” Gina said. “I’m sure that would be complicated anyway since you’re planning on moving soon.”

  Moving? Surely Roman must have heard wrong. One glance at Bella showed him she’d closed her eyes and pressed her fingers to her forehead. Not a good sign. “Gina, that was private,” she said. “You weren’t supposed to share that.”