“Your slip is showing,” the Reverend’s wife warned me as she went by.
When she left, I fixed my slip. “They should never have called you a slut. Slut is a horrible word and women calling other women that, they degrade themselves.” I thought of when Noah flung it at me in the hospital.
Sara grins at me, nibbling a cookie.
“What?” I ask.
“You’re purple,” she says.
I wrinkle my nose. “What?”
“Yeah, you’re purple-skinned.”
I raised an eyebrow, then laughed. “Um, nope.”
“You’re a banana.”
I laughed again. “Mmm, no…”
“You are…” She chewed, watching me. “You are a double D bra size.”
I really laughed at that one. “Uh, nope and nope.”
She quirked a brow as I had. “Only what’s true matters. When someone calls you something you’re not, it doesn’t matter, it shouldn’t hurt. If anything, it’s a little funny. When they call me slut, I know it’s not true, so I can laugh about it.”
I rubbed her arm. “You’re a beautiful person.”
“I know,” she teased. “You know what slut stands for?”
“No.”
She sang, “Sweet, little, unforgettable thing!” Making me laugh even harder. “It’s a real song,” she said. “Look it up.”
As the sermon began, I took her hand and made her sit with me and Noah. Noah acted uncomfortable about it but said nothing.
While the songs played, my mind drifted. I thought about Lorenzo going through with a divorce and letting go of the most precious thing in his life. He did it.
I’ve kept in contact with his family, but no one told me of his choices. Granted, they seemed to know I didn’t want to talk about him, but still...
If he did it, why can’t I? What am I staying for? You should never leave your spouse for someone else. But what if the someone else, is yourself?
The Reverend Hammond opened the ceremony, leaning on his pulpit. “The pure-hearted woman,” he began. “That’s our topic.”
I tried to focus. Here we go. Same old sermon. The Delilah lectures. The one we hear annually. One of us women is in trouble again.
“What is a pure-hearted woman?” he asked us all. “Well, she is chaste, she is not foul-mouthed, she is God fearing, and she does not adorn herself in jewels and fine clothes. She is modest, humble, submissive, and—”
I looked across the way and saw the treasurer’s wife staring holes into Sara. So were a few others, though they thought they were discreet. But then I noticed the Reverend’s wife was looking at me. My dress length with open disapproval. My first instinct was to tug it down, my second was to remember why I was here.
I was here to learn more about a God I trust. One that made me, even my knees that seem to offend everyone so much.
I wondered if He measures my worth by my skirt length.
I don’t think He does.
I stood up.
It was abrupt. A little awkward at first.
Quite a few people looked my way.
Because I didn’t move, just stood there, even the Reverend stopped to watch me.
“Honey?” Noah touched my hand. “Are you alright? Are you going to the bathroom?”
I looked down at him. Such a handsome face. But not to me anymore. There’s no love in me for the man. It was gone the moment I saw the lipstick on his collar, so long ago. I never admitted it to myself. The moment he broke my trust, he broke my love.
“I want a divorce,” I said.
This caused a good amount of gasping and whispering.
After I had the legs for it, I got my purse and stepped around Sara to the outside aisle. Then I started for the door.
“Well, hey!” Sara called jumping up. “Wait for me! Me too!” she hurried after me and took my hand.
They don’t want us here, so why stay?
I stopped in the doorway, Sara holding it open to the outside. I bent and tugged and pulled until my slip came down and I could step out of it.
“Yeah!” Sara whispered in victory as I flung it. “Now it’s really showing!”
I laughed as we left the judgy, little place behind.
There are many other churches in existence, and even if there isn’t, I don’t need one. God knows who I am under all the layers, and He loves me anyway.
I took out my braid, undid a button or two, and then I got us a taxi.
Sara piled in with me, eager and excited about the change in course, life took.
“Rebel Vision,” I said to the driver.
“The night club?” Sara frowned at me. “It’s ten in the morning on a Sunday. A little early, don’t ya think?”
“Yes, but Zeus will be there?”
“Switching Religions?”
I laughed. “No, it’s a guy I know, who knows another guy. It’s a long story.”
“Well, it’s a long ride, so fill me in,” she sat back as the cab pulled off.
Chapter Twenty-Six
LYDIA
ONE MONTH LATER
November brought a cold snap in the air, but I didn’t really feel it as I walked Little Italy.
I don’t look like the girl who first traveled here a year ago, inquiring about the man married to my husband’s lover.
My big gray coat is longer than my green plaid skirt, far looser than my fitted black shirt, and my face is slightly painted with cosmetics. My hair is short and whips around my cheeks. My heels make my nylon-clad legs seem longer.
I don’t look the same and I don’t feel the same.
I’m stronger.
I’m wiser.
I’m seasoned from my experience, but I’m also proud.
I kept in tight contact with Lorenzo’s sisters and mother. That’s why I know he’s there right now, at Cibo Degli Dei, packing what’s left of it.
I came to a stop outside the window where we used to sit in silence together, and I pressed my palm to the cold glass.
It hits me that I never ate outside, under the canopy, with the little lights twinkling.
I went to the door and found it locked, brown paper lining the glass on the inside, letting the world know that the doors would not be soon opening.
It made me sad, but then I remembered my purpose here.
I walked with my hands in my deep coat pockets around to the back of the restaurant. The back door where the workers used to smoke, was propped open with crates and I can hear movement inside.
A car in traffic, with its windows down, was blaring the song Lorenzo and I danced to at Rebel Vision, and it encouraged me. Maybe it was a sign from the divine or maybe it was just coincidence, but it gave me the courage I needed, to walk into the kitchen that held so many sweet memories.
There were no aromas coming to me, and the decor was mostly stripped. It’s dark, most the light is coming from the open door and a warmer light on the opposite side from the ceiling.
Lorenzo had his back to me, as he stood by the largest pantry, putting herbs and spices into a cardboard box being held high on a chair.
He was too focused to know I had come in, so I just watched him for a time. The four months apart had been entirely too long, and suddenly unreal all at once.
He moved to the side and spotted me.
“Ciao, come stai,” I said with a small smile.
His face lost the harsh expression it carried before he saw me. “What brings you here?” he asked.
I felt he might be rushing me to remain guarded, and I didn’t blame him. “A few things,” I took my purse off and put it on the island table where he first showed me how to flip pizza dough. “Firstly, how are you?”
He nodded. “I’ve been better.” His eyes dart around the kitchen and I wonder if he means the loss of Cibo Degli Dei or Ruby.
“I heard you… you’re divorced.”
“Almost. Her father pulled a lot of strings to make it move as fast as it has…”
“And…” I
hated asking. “The baby…”
“That,” he stopped working to give me his full attention. “She wanted to have the baby, I’m grateful for that much. She was planning to convince me it was mine, but because we weren’t having sex, she couldn’t.” He studied me in the quiet. “How are you?”
“I’m good.”
“How are things? With Noah?”
I took off my coat. “I wouldn’t know. He moved in with Ruby just last week… after I asked him for a divorce last month.”
Lorenzo straightened.
“Um,” I opened my purse. “Anyway, listen, I have a proposal. What are your plans for Cibo Degli Dei?”
He gestured to the empty room. “I don’t have one. Relocate. Maybe. That’s as far as I got.”
“What if I told you I have a prime location with three times the footage?”
Lorenzo slowly shook his head. “I don’t understand.”
“The Upper West Side…”
“I can’t afford that.” He finally closed some distance between us, coming to my side of the island. “I’m confused, explain,” he demanded, leaning his back to the island and crossing his arms.
“Don’t shut me down when I start, okay? Please?” Even when he nodded, I knew I would have a fight on my hands. “With all the money you made from this place, that Giada says you have saved, you might find a place with the same footage as here, maybe a little more in a slightly better location. But, combined with mine—”
“Yours?”
I licked my dry lips. “I sold my restored toys… and—”
“What the fuck?” he snapped.
I winced. “You just promised you wouldn’t—”
“What the hell is the matter with you? What were you thinking? Those were your life’s work!”
“Those were things, a hobby that made me happy.”
He shook his head. “No. No, no, no, you do whatever you need to and get those things back. What the— Have you lost your fucking mind?”
“I’m not the only one that donated to the cause.”
I could feel his temper rising.
“Chance Urban is lending you a little—”
“You talked to Chance?”
“Well, I talked to Zeus first, and Zeus thought it was a good idea, so he called Chance, who then met with the two of us.”
“How could you do that?”
I put my hands on my hips. “Why don’t you understand? This place meant something to a lot of people, not just you. This is where I found out who I was, what I wanted, and for Chance Urban… This is where a hungry little boy didn’t have to dumpster dive. Where his aspirations to go big, started. This is where he took his husband on their first date, where he wants his daughter to have birthday parties, and his best friend needs help saving it. You don’t have a right to say no.”
He cocked his jaw. “This was going over the line.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve been skipping over lines ever since I met you.”
He ignored that. “It’s would still not be enough to cover the costs—”
While he ranted, slowly flipping to Italian here or there, I pulled a piece of paper from my purse, and a pen, writing down the amount we collected.
“You can’t just swoop in and fix everything! Lydia! Stop writing and listen to me, you’ve lost your fucking mind!” He shouted on. Then in Italian again, forgetting I know a little Italian. He called me mule woman, at one point.
I slid him the paper.
He kept on. “I told you about the ownership in confidence, it wasn’t your place to go to my friend— what is this? What the hell are you showing me?” He actually read the number. “Jesus Christ…”
“It’s enough,” I said. “It’s more than enough. Chance told me to tell you, this isn’t charity, or—”
“Yeah, he told you that?” He lowered the paper and arched a brow. “What exactly did he say?”
I stammered on the reply Chance told me to tell Lorenzo. “He…uh… said… in a more colorful way, that, uh… He said tell Lorenzo, ‘that he should have beeping told me that his issues with Ruby were linked to the beeping restaurant and that you were a beeping, beep, beep, beeper, for not saying something sooner. Then he said that if you didn’t pay the beeping money back with beeping interest, that he would break both your beeping kneecaps.” I cleared my throat, blushing even though I didn’t say some of the words.
Lorenzo ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, that sounds like him.” He shook his head again, still pissed.
“It’s not charity,” I said again.
“No? When did he say the money was due back?”
I pursed my lips. “Well, uh, he said it’s due back… sometime…before you die.”
He broke, smiling a little about that one. “And when do I pay you back? How do I do that?” he said, making it all so serious again.
“This isn’t like what happened with Ruby,” I told him. “This isn’t me or Chance taking ownership of your passion, this is us supporting it. The money is a gift, the way Ruby’s father should have done it. I don’t want my money back; I want this place back.”
He walked away, not far, far enough to think, as he does.
“You can trust me,” I added. “After everything we went through, you know that better than anyone else. That you can trust me.”
Lorenzo stopped with his back to me again.
“Can’t you?” I asked.
I came to him, putting my hand to his arm and my cheek beneath his shoulder blade.
His eyes fell to my hand, and then he lifted his to touch mine. Bare. Our left hands are bare. No wedding bands, no promises to break, no boundaries.
Turning around, he held my left hand and ran his thumb along the place my ring once was.
“I trust you…” he said. “More than anyone in this world.”
I pulled myself from under the spell of his eyes. It’s been four months, and though I’ve burned with desire for him, I don’t know if his head is there. I would rather forfeit and revert to what we were than run him away.
I pulled my hand back and nodded. “Okay, good, then… you’ll… you’ll take it? You’ll take the money?”
He didn’t say.
Facing the table, I pressed my hips to it so I could stuff my notepad and pen back in my purse.
I felt his hands hold my waist, and with ease, he turned me around and sat me on the island. I parted my legs so he could come closer and wrapped my arms around his neck as he kissed me.
My entire soul caught fire, an out of control army of flames, licking at every corner of who I am. His mouth bossily set the pace, and I kept myself locked around him.
We’re free. Free to touch, free to explore, free to…
“ti amo…” I said into his kiss.
He pulled his head back to see me.
“I’m sorry,” I held the back of his neck. “You don’t have to say that. I needed to. I wanted— did I say it right? That’s I love you in Italian, right? Did I say something else—”
Lorenzo grabbed my jaw and scraped his bottom lip against mine. “ti amo anch'io…”
I love when his words are in his native tongue. He’s exotic to me, everything about him, but I’m also new to the language. I smiled as he held my face.
“Wait,” I put off his next kiss. “That… that means I love you too, right? Or did you—”
He laughed, kissing me into silence.
“Lorenzo?”
“si, si, si.”
I laughed and pulled at his t-shirt, not having enough of him. Both his hands slid up beneath my skirt, along my thighs, and I couldn’t catch my breath. He found the top of my nylons and peeled them down. I lifted my bottom and watched them get discarded, heels too.
I pulled the bottom of his shirt up until it came off.
He kissed me again, rougher than before, with urgency, then broke it to go and move the crate in front of the door so it would close.
My heart raced, realizing that I was taking a major step i
n my life. Opening myself up to someone else, body and soul. Before marriage, breaking all the rules I’ve been living by.
But it didn’t feel wrong, it felt right.
His kiss tasted like mint and tobacco. Lips trained to undo a woman.
Lorenzo held the backs of my knees as I took off my shirt.
“Do you trust me?” he asked, his lips to my forehead.
I nodded, grazing my fingertips over his shoulder, chest, torso…
He brought my knees up a little. “Put your back on the island,” he instructed.
I took a nervous breath and then laid down.
Lorenzo used my knees to drag me closer to the edge of the table and bent to kiss my stomach. Electricity rushed to every sensitive place on my body. His lips pressed over my hipbone, up my side, each rib, to the underline of my bra. I held his head, scratching his scalp, writhing.
He knelt between my legs, trailing the kisses along my inner thigh, over my panties. My hips moved to rub myself against the heat of his mouth. Squeezing my thighs, he moved his tongue over the fabric, erasing my uncertainties. Now, all I wanted was the last barrier gone.
I hooked my underwear in my fingers and pulled the sides down.
Lorenzo assisted me in removing them and pressed the flat of his hand down on my lower stomach. His chin nuzzled my clit, his night’s shadow scratching, and tickling until a gasp bubbled past my lips.
He spread my folds with his fingers, and licked, tasting me. The swirling and flicking were unlike anything I can remember. Just the idea of his mouth on me, in such a private place, caused shocks of pleasure.
Soon my noises weren’t so quiet, and my body writhed on the tabletop. His thumb worked in sequence with his tongue and teeth, and upon pressing two fingers inside me, I cried out.
I reached behind me, holding the opposite edge to stay in place.
One of his hands smoothed across my belly and cupped my breast, kneading the mound over my bra.
Being small, my bra had no padding, only lace, and the friction his fingers cause across my nipple, made me moan and arch into his touch.
His mouth began to suck, making all my nerves sizzle until an impossible build of release tipped me over. The climax rode me, not the other way around, and I couldn’t do anything but take it. Let it.
The Affair (The Relationship Quo Series Book 5) Page 30