She scanned everything and don’t you know the book had a glitch and it took five managers to come over and help ring it up before it was in a bag and I was making the walk of shame to my car.
Once I was inside the car, and safe from view, I started reading. I was so entranced that I couldn’t stop. This was a lot more than smut, this girl had very similar restrictions on her life, some self-imposed. The rules made her feel safe, but the guy in the book kept breaking them.
The sexual tension was killing me, and I just needed to binge. It was so sultry, so naughty, so… so… not what my husband would ever approve of.
I slapped the book closed and looked at the time on the dashboard. One in the morning.
What did I do? I have dozens of cupcakes to make and Church starts at nine in the morning.
I drove home and went into turbo-mode after my first cup of coffee, and then my third. I was moving so fast I could see myself go by.
I turned on the XM radio and decided to search for something fast and edgy, but the lyrics were super inappropriate, so I switched to a classical music station.
I was stirring the third batch when two strong arms encircled my waist and hugged me close.
I calmed down like someone delivered a shot of meds into my arm. I held Noah and set my head back. “Honey,” he kissed my cheek. “What are you doing?”
I gestured to all the cooling cupcakes. “I forgot that I volunteered to do…”
He snickered and I rolled my eyes.
“Want help?” He let go and came to sit at the table.
Our kitchen is the smallest room in our two-bedroom home. When Noah sits in it, it becomes the size of a matchbox.
I decorated it with old country feels; checkered curtains, whitewash walls, it looks like it came from a catalog.
“This is woman’s work,” I arched a brow at him.
He picked up a cupcake and reached for the yellow icing, “Well, if I help you…you’ll get done faster and then I can keep you busy with other types of woman’s work.”
The spark in his eye lit a fire between my legs. I had been reading between baking times, now I’m more than ready to go again.
While he iced, I remembered the book was sitting on the counter and with perfect suave, I slid it into the cabinet under the Girl Scout cookies.
“They told you Dave is diabetic, right?” he asked.
“What?” I slammed down the batter.
He laughed. “Just kidding.”
I tried not to laugh, but then he put icing on my nose and kissed it off.
Hours later we were sitting at church and listening to a sermon that I’m fairly certain Reverend Hammond has given before. It’s the one on Delilah. It’s an in-depth lecture on why women should be timid and why their beauty was never meant to be used as a weapon or flaunted.
Not sure if I get it.
We are supposed to be pretty because our husbands want beauty, but we can’t be considered that way by anyone else.
He brought up how beauty fades, and I sighed as my eyes landed on Miss Vinagan. Miss Vinagan is a thirty-six-year-old woman with more sex appeal than a porn star. The whole congregation can’t stand having her here, but they don’t say anything because that wouldn’t be very kind.
She drives the women mad because her sundresses are always low-cut, the hem is just above the knee, and her makeup is thick. She’s had, five husbands—five. The first three divorced, one died, and the other one is in jail, I think.
She has an enormous heart but talking to her is like social suicide. Sometimes I wonder why she even still comes. There are far less strict churches in existence.
“And let me tell you, my friends…” Reverend Hammond only says that when he’s wrapping it up. “A virtuous woman is not found among vain women. How could a vain woman love?”
I felt a sharp ping in my gut and looked to Miss Vinagan. That wasn’t fair to say. How does anyone know how someone else loves? I saw her bring her head higher like she knew he was delivering a low blow, and I tilted my head. Is she that sure?
Noah took my hand and brought my attention back to the Reverend. We were sitting toward the back. I tugged his hand a little and he bent to hear me.
“Don’t you think that was a little insensitive?” I whispered.
He followed my eyes to her.
“Honey, if she feels offended, she needs to look inside herself and ask why. It’s not our job to worry about it.”
I shrugged my shoulder. “If I wore makeup it wouldn’t mean I love you any less than I do right now.”
“Is that what this is about?” He smiled and pressed our foreheads together. “You don’t need it. My wife is perfect.”
I tried to smile. “But it wouldn’t change me if I did.”
He held my knee and gave it a comforting squeeze before listening again to the Reverend. That didn’t comfort me at all, though.
If beauty was so evil why did God even give it to us? I’m supposed to believe that I’m a better woman because my hair is dull, my face is clean of cosmetics and my clothes are at full coverage?
Worse of all, what does it say about me that sometimes I wish I could do and wear those things?
When the service ended, Noah left to gather the teen youth and I went to set out the cupcakes from last night.
“Mrs. Spencer,” Clara came to touch my back and smiled, “They look wonderful!”
Clara’s husband is the church treasurer and she runs the Sunday School for the little ones.
“Thanks,” I smiled back and set them out on a platter for presentation. “I messed up last night and forgot,” I said in a low grumble. She laughed at me and I laughed with her. “I was up literally all night. I hope I never see another cupcake.”
Clara helped me unload the remaining desserts. “When you and Noah have babies, I’m afraid there will be no avoiding cupcakes. Unless you become one of those radical health nuts.” She set out a basket of brownies. Then she paused and looked up at me with apologetic eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—"
“Nah,” I waved her off even as my insides shook like jelly. “It’s okay. It will happen on God’s time.”
She tried not to bring it up again, but I could feel it on the tip of her tongue. “You know, couples can face years of trying before anything happens. You guys have only been married, what? Five years, right?”
I bit the inside of my cheek. “I’m not discouraged,” I lied.
Miss Vinagan came up to my left and I smiled at her.
“Hi there, girly,” she said as she set her hand on her hip. “What can I help with?”
I handed her a plate of cakes but turned to find Clara had evaporated. She was avoiding my new helper, for sure.
“Pretty sure she’s afraid my vanity might be contagious,” Miss Vinagan teased.
I looked at her in surprise that she guessed so accurately. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be, I’m not.”
“Thanks for the help,” I said sweetly. “Can you arrange these, and I’ll scatter the chocolate candies to make it look good.”
She took the plate and started.
I fought myself about bringing my thoughts to light but then I couldn’t help it. “Miss Vinagan?”
“You can call me Sara,” she winked.
“Sara, I hope you weren’t offended by the service… I feel like… it wasn’t—"
“Mrs. Spencer,” she stopped and faced me, and I felt my throat close. I should have kept my mouth shut as Noah suggested. Her smile was slow to surface. “How old are you?” She asked.
I was taken aback by that. “Um… twenty-nine…”
She tilted my chin up and I let her. “You have beautiful eyes, Mrs. Spencer.”
I melted a little at her words. “Really?”
Her smile widened. “They’re pretty. They’re fine by appearance; steel-colored and almond-shaped, but also because they see more than the average person.”
I don’t recall ever saying more than a few words
to Sara, but at the moment I feel like I’m bonding to her. I feel like she’s seeing into my soul.
“Thank you…” I managed.
“Know what else I see?”
I shook my head as she let go and went back to her task. “I see that a lot of you, isn’t you, yet, but don’t worry, girly, she’ll find her way out. She always does.”
“Who?”
“There are three versions to everyone. The person people expect… the alter ego that doesn’t care and the combination of both. That delicate balance is who you really are. Until then, you just exist,” she tapped my nose and kept on.
I frowned. “I know who I am.”
She narrowed one eye at me. “Mmm, not quite, yet… but soon, I’d wager.”
“This is way off the topic of me asking if you were offended.”
“Not really. What I’m trying to say is, once you are secure in yourself, Mrs. Spencer, no one can take that from you with a few words. I know who I am. The good, the bad, the in-between and I’m here because I think God knows who I am too and loves me for it.”
I listened with all my heart, fascinated by the idea of not being confined to the rules. I view God as loving and kind, but with conditions. You have to be a certain way, act accordingly, to earn that love of His. But Sara obviously feels that God loves her regardless.
“Lydia, Sweetie, your slip is showing,” said the Reverend’s wife as she glided by.
“Oh!” I quickly adjusted my clothes, hiding the underlayer. Sara just laughed.
I looked at her and frowned. “What?”
She just kept laughing.
“Stop it!” I tried to sound serious but ended up laughing too.
Chapter Two
LORENZO
“Enzo! Don’t you fucking dare!” Giada, my little sister warned me from across the room. She’d been guarding the little shit of a man with her body.
“Move! I am going to break all his bones!” I threatened.
They tried to predict my moves, keeping the coffee table between us.
“Lorenzo!” my mother yelled from the other side of the living room. “Let her explain!”
“No, Ma, I do not need her to explain how she got pregnant. I know,” I repeatedly tapped the side of my head hard enough to bruise it. “I know how a woman gets pregnant!”
“Will you please, calm down!” Giada screeched.
“I love her,” Liam, one of the head cooks at my restaurant tried to say over her head. “I didn’t mean for this to happen, but I love her. I really, truly love her, and I’m going to do everything I can to support her.”
“You won’t be alive to support anyone,” I picked up the coffee table from one end and flipped it out of my way.
My mother rattled off in angry Italian, scolding me, cursing the temper my father passed down to me.
“It was an accident,” Giada shouted. “We didn’t plan to get knocked up. Shit happens, Enzo. You gotta see that!”
“What I see, is an irresponsible girl, and a selfish asshole!” I yelled back, pointing at Liam. “I gave you work,” I told him directly. My family faded from the room in my eyes for a moment, and all I saw was Liam. “I gave you a chance, in my place, I helped you to get off the street because I gave you an opportunity no one else was willing to give! And you sneak behind my back and sleep with my little sister? My sister? What the fuck did you think was going to happen?”
Liam tried to reply, but Giada spoke over him. “It wasn’t a one-sided sexual assault, I wanted him.”
“Eh,” I drew out the sound smiling sarcastically. “Or was it, huh?”
Liam shook his head. “That’s too far, man,” he said.
“Was it? Because that was exactly why no one would hire you. You are listed as a sex offender and a thief, and when you came for work, you were strung out over some girl named Trixie. Some woman from your last job. What about that?”
Giada spoke for him again, not realizing that every time she did, I lost more respect for the man. “He was falsely accused of that rape, the girl came forward about it, and he told me about Trixie. What? Is it a crime to have past lovers? If so, you should be locked up for life.”
“He is a convict, that was homeless,” I said it slowly, using hand gestures to make my point. “This is going to be the father of your child? You are in school, Giada! The first DiGregorio woman to go to college. This is your life, this is your passion. What do you think this means for you?”
“It means I become a student and a mother,” she said with certainty. “Why is that bad? What are you so afraid of?”
“You have no idea how hard being a parent is,” I stressed. “The sleepless nights, the struggling to make ends meet, the demands, the lack of time…” I looked up at Liam. “She just turned twenty. Her life just started, and you did this to her?” I felt the heat in my veins as it rushed to every part of me.
“Enzo,” Giada saw my rage stoking. “Don’t.”
Before she could finish, I lunged for Liam. He ran from behind her, and I missed his arm by a hair. I chased him until the couch was between us.
My grandmother, who only speaks Italian and has no idea what we are talking about, is sitting on the sofa; the only reason I haven’t flipped it like the coffee table.
“Listen,” Liam panted. “I swear, this was not what I intended to happen—”
“I told you the rules,” I reminded. “Do not steal from me,” I counted off the list with my fingers. “Do not compromise the integrity of my restaurant. Do not go near my sister. Three rules. How about if I use a post-it and nail it to your head?”
“I understand why—” he stopped short when I pretended to dart left. He ran, but then I corrected myself, catching him on the other side. I punched him in the eye, causing my mother, my aunts, Giada, my two other sisters, and my brothers to gasp or wince.
Liam fell back and landed on the floor.
Before I could bend down to do it again, I felt a hard thwack to my back, shoulders, head, and ass. My mother was beating the shit out of me with her wooden spoon, railing in more Italian.
After cornering me in the back of the living room, against the wall, she stopped to make her case, using eyes ablaze and accented English. “Shame on you! What have you done? You want your sister happy, no? You want her to be loved, no? What do you want? Do you even know, huh? The man has come from a hard life, as you do, as your family does! But he is a good man now, and look, look what you do to Giada!” She jabbed her thumb to where Giada was crying against our sister Angela. Angela was giving me daggers with her heavily lined eyes.
“You want her to cry?” Ma asked me. “You want your little sister to cry? This is what you want? The baby will have no uncle Lorenzo? No? You don’t want to know the baby? You want our family torn apart? This has happened,” she said the last part quieter, as though we were alone, though the others could hear. “You cannot control everything. You try too much to be your father. Be my Lorenzo, instead. The boy is family now,” she said about Liam.
Behind her, my brother, Milo, was helping Liam to his feet. One of my Aunts brought him a large red steak from the fridge and slapped it on Liam’s eye.
“A bambino,” Ma suddenly melted like butter at the thought, dropping her spoon to rub my arms. “A little bambino for us!”
My jaw ticked because they saw this as a joyous event, but I only saw that my little sister was plunging headfirst into adulthood with no idea how deep the waters were or how violent the current.
But when I looked at Giada and saw her with tear-stained cheeks and both hands over her still very flat stomach, I realized Ma was right. There was no going back, and as long as Giada was happy, as long as Liam treated her like the queen she is, maybe I could live with it. I had to.
I looked at my littlest sister and crossed my arms. “You are not quitting school,” I told her sternly.
She shook her head. “I don’t plan to.”
“She has us,” Angela announced. “The baby has all these aunt
s and uncles; we can help her. Hell, I’ll take the kid to the salon if I gotta. Rocco could take it on weekends,” she gestured to our other brothers. “Milo could after school…”
I waved her off, not wanting to hear anymore optimism.
“But this won’t work without you,” Giada said past her sniffles. “This won’t work without his or her uncle Enzo.”
The corner of my mouth tipped up. “Uncle Enzo…” I repeated.
I was already an uncle many times over. My family is fertile and most of my siblings have kids, but Giada is the only one that calls me Enzo and therefore, her child would christen me as Uncle Enzo.
“Yeah,” Giada wiped her tears away with the heel of her hand. “So, stop being a fucking dick, and hug me.”
I slowly made my way to her, shaking my head and wagging my finger. “You cannot talk like a drunken sailor with a kid coming, it is no good.”
She ignored me, going straight into my arms and burrowing into my chest. I held her there, tight. I know she’s safe when she’s here, with me, but I can’t follow her all day and night, and sure enough, all it took was one of those nights to get pregnant.
“I love you,” she murmured.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I kissed the top of her head. “I love you too.”
Liam came close to us, getting ready to reach for my hand.
“You touch me, and I will feed your fingers to you,” I said.
Liam took his hand back and nodded, knowing I meant it.
After the family drama was dealt with, I went home. A loose term. I went to my apartment, which is in walking distance to my restaurant, but I rode my motorcycle.
As I was going up the stairs, I collided with a woman that was putting on her heels.
She bounced off my chest, but before she fell, I caught her. Familiar perfume made me look twice. It was my wife, Ruby.
“Oh, my God,” she laughed, touching her chest. “You scared me.”
I stopped, coming down a step. “I wasn’t looking.”
The Affair (The Relationship Quo Series Book 5) Page 2