by Jill Blake
“Heard you got yourself a new man,” Aunt Lucia said, eyeing the man in question, who stood just a foot away. She dropped her voice, but not enough to keep Luca from overhearing. “Did you at least do a ménage a trois before dropping the old one?”
“Aunt Lucia! This is my life here, not one of your novels.”
She waved aside Isabelle’s protest. “Where do you think I get the inspiration for my books? The problem with young people these days is you’re too prudish. No one wants to do anything controversial. It’s like the ’60s never happened. No more swinging, no more hot tub parties, and heaven forbid anyone should mention free love—”
“You have heard about HIV, haven’t you?” Isabelle interrupted before her aunt got too carried away. “And all the highly resistant strains of gonorrhea floating out there? And guess what, there’s still no cure for herpes.”
“See what I mean? You take the romance out of everything! All you want to do is settle down and be monogamous. Who wants to read about that? Where’s the tension, the suspense?” Aunt Lucia frowned. “Your brother Marc used to be such fun to watch, and now look at him: can’t take his puppy dog eyes off his wife! It’s positively depressing. Tell me that you’re at least enjoying yourself. A little three-way action, maybe, before you settle down?”
“Stop it, Aunt Lucia, or I’m going to sic Mom on you. You know how she feels about corrupting children’s morals.”
“Thirty-four, and you still consider yourself a child?” Lucia cocked her head. “Next you’re going to tell me you’re still a virgin.”
Isabelle sneaked a peek at Luca, to see how he was taking her aunt’s antics. He didn’t seem like he was about to run for the hills, but it was probably best if she could refocus Aunt Lucia’s attention on some other target.
“Looks like Nick and Kelly are coming this way,” she said, invoking the name of Lucia’s oldest son and his wife. Conservative didn’t even begin to describe them. At some point, Aunt Lucia had speculated that they probably did the deed for procreative purposes only, in the dark, removing only the necessary items of clothing to complete the act.
Isabelle snickered as her aunt bid a hasty goodbye and moved on.
“What was that all about?” Luca said.
“Sorry,” Isabelle took him by the hand and headed toward the refreshments tables. “She lost her mental filter around the time she hit seventy. Used to write romance novels, but these days I think she’d more into erotica.”
“She did seem to have a fascination with your sex life.”
Isabelle flushed. “You don’t think I’m boring, do you?”
“No, Bella.” He tightened his grip and changed direction, pulling her toward the edge of the terrace and around the corner, where they were screened from the rest of the guests. The stone and mortar wall was rough on her back as he pressed her against it. His mouth captured hers in a slow kiss that quickly flared out of control. Whether it was the images evoked by her aunt’s outrageous conversation, or the fact that she and Luca were hidden just a few yards away from the rest of the party and could at any moment be discovered, or simply the excitement of the man himself, Isabelle didn’t know and didn’t care. She just wanted more.
Spearing her fingers through his hair, she pressed against him, relishing the feel of his tongue sliding over hers, the catch of his breath as she hitched a jean-clad leg around his hip. He cupped her buttocks and lifted, so that she was fully wrapped around him.
His lips whispered along her jaw to the throbbing pulse just below. “There is nothing boring about you, cara.”
She gasped as his hips flexed and his hands tightened.
“But if you ever want to experiment,” he murmured against her ear, “let me know.”
It took a moment for his words to sink it. “What, like a threesome?”
“No. Just you and me, Bella.” He ground his pelvis into her. “Whatever you want, whatever you need, I’ll give you. Just tell me. Anything.”
###
Later, he wondered whether he would have taken Bella right up against the wall, had they not been interrupted.
As it was, he sighed and raised his head.
Isabelle’s sister-in-law stood a short distance away, her back to them. Apparently satisfied that her fake cough had produced the desired effect, Kate said, “The elders are looking for you, Iz. Time to sing happy birthday and pass around the cake.”
He eased Bella down until she was steady on her feet. She blinked, touched a finger to his lips, and smiled. Then she slipped out of his embrace. It took a bit longer for the tightness of his jeans to ease enough that he could move without embarrassing himself.
Kate pointed Isabelle toward the main tent, where most of the crowd had gathered. When Luca made to follow, Kate stayed him with a hand on his arm. “Go on, Iz,” she said. “I’m just going to borrow Luca for a minute.”
He watched Bella walk away, her cap-sleeve shirt and skinny jeans hugging every curve, her dark hair spilling wildly past her shoulders. She’d taken to wearing her hair loose in the last few weeks, at least when she wasn’t keeping everything tucked away in those severely cut business suits she wore for work meetings.
He liked this new side to her, the one that proclaimed her a sexy, confident woman who was comfortable in her own skin. It reminded him of the way she had been when they’d first met, except now she had a depth and maturity she’d lacked before.
Seeing her here, in the context of the family he’d heard so much about, was a revelation. She was clearly the baby of the family, loved and cossetted, but also subjected to the same teasing and one-upmanship by her siblings and cousins that characterized Luca’s relationship with his own sisters. Even Jake, he now recognized, seemed to treat her that way.
The children, particularly Bella’s niece and nephews, clustered around her as if she were Santa Claus, the Easter bunny, and their fairy godmother rolled into one. She had a natural rapport with them, a spark of mischief that the kids recognized and fed off of. He imagined she would be the same with her own children, making everything into a game or contest, finding joy even in the mundane.
He’d been a bit apprehensive about coming here today, uncertain of his reception by her family. He needn’t have worried. Everyone had greeted him with unfailing courtesy. Either they were all consummate diplomats—Aunt Lucia excepted—or else Bella simply hadn’t told them about the debacle from three-and-a-half years ago. In which case, he really needed to get past the blow to his ego over the fact that he hadn’t been important enough to mention to her family, even if that mention was only to badmouth him.
“She looks happy.” The words brought his attention back to Isabelle’s sister-in-law.
“Yes,” he agreed. “She was looking forward to seeing everyone today.”
Kate studied him. “I didn’t expect to like you,” she said. “But I think you may be just what she needs. So I’m giving you fair warning. Izzy didn’t confide in her brother, which is the only reason you’re still in one piece. Hurt her again, and I’ll make sure Marc hears the whole story.”
Luca had to admire the woman’s loyalty. “I will do my very best to keep her happy.”
“I’m glad we understand each other,” Kate said. “Now let’s go join the party.”
Chapter 21
Amalfi in June was hot and humid, with temperatures climbing into the upper seventies by mid-morning.
They stayed at the same hotel as before, where thick stone walls provided welcome relief from the sun. In the central courtyard, amid fragrant orange and lemon trees, they lazed in deeply cushioned lounge chairs and planned out their days: a hike up to Vesuvius, an excursion to explore the ruins of Pompeii, an evening of Mozart and Chopin in Ravello, a return to his family’s vineyard in Vietri sul Mare.
Luca’s mother was just as Isabelle remembered: remote, unsmiling, she sat at the head of the table and made a point of speaking only Italian, though Isabelle knew full well from her previous visit that the woman had a reas
onable command of English.
His sisters tried to compensate for their mother’s aloofness, welcoming her warmly and introducing her to the newest members of the family: Teresa’s husband, Sandro, and their one-year-old daughter Maria.
As the meal drew to a close, Luca’s older sister excused herself to attend to some business. The baby began to cry. Teresa scooped her up and turned to Isabelle. “Come, I’ll show you the nursery. The men can clean up.”
Isabelle glanced at Senora Santoro, who frowned, then at Luca, who smiled and nodded his encouragement. She rose and followed Teresa upstairs.
The room was painted a cheerful yellow, with colorful jungle animals cavorting along one wall. “It’s way past her bedtime,” Teresa said, cradling the fussy infant in one arm while pulling a towel and washcloth out of a dresser with the other.
“Can I help?”
“If you can just hold her while I fill the tub,” Teresa said, handing over the child and making a beeline for the bathroom next door.
Isabelle winced as her left arm throbbed under the unexpectedly heavy and squirmy bundle. She adjusted her hold and trailed after Teresa. The baby let out an ear-piercing wail and redoubled her efforts to get free.
“I don’t think she likes me,” Isabelle said, managing to corral a flying fist before it connected with her chin.
Teresa looked up from the infant tub she was filling. “Don’t take it personally. She’s just having some stranger anxiety. It’s normal at this age.”
“What about your mother?” Isabelle said. “Should I take that personally?”
Teresa tested the water before answering. “Mama means well. But she worries.”
“About what?”
Teresa reclaimed her daughter and quickly undressed her. Once in the tub, the baby’s cries turned into coos of pleasure. Teresa watched her for a moment before answering. “When you came the last time, Mama was still hoping Luca and his wife—”
“Ex-wife.”
“—would get back together. When Luca came with you, instead of with Cristina, it was like he was trying to prove that his marriage was truly over.”
Isabelle frowned. “I was under the impression he’d already been divorced a year by then.”
“Yes,” Teresa conceded. “But he didn’t get a formal annulment, so techinically in the eyes of the Church they were still married.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No. And then when you dropped him—”
“Excuse me?”
Teresa blinked. “I assumed…I mean, he seemed crazy about you. And then for a long time after, he was abbattuto—how do you say? Moping around. Alone and unhappy.”
Isabelle shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“Che?”
“Your brother was not alone. He was going through women faster than Hugh Heffner.”
“No, really? How do you know this?”
“Mutual friends.”
Teresa considered that before answering. “Non importa. He didn’t bring any other woman here. Only you. It must mean something.”
Isabelle certainly hoped so. “But your mother still thinks I’m bad news?”
Teresa shrugged. “She just wants Luca to be happy. And she wants more grandbabies.” She glanced sideways at Isabelle. “If you and Luca were to have a child, that would no doubt go a long way toward winning her over.”
“I’m not going to get pregnant just to make your mother happy!”
Teresa picked up the washcloth. “I’m not suggesting you do. But Luca is ready for kids, too.”
###
They were strolling hand-in-hand through the gardens at the Villa Rufolo when Isabelle brought up work.
“I interviewed last week for a faculty position at Penn,” she said. The acceptance email had come earlier that day. She’d been dreading this discussion ever since. Might as well get it over with now.
“Oh?” Luca’s voice was noncommittal.
“In the med school,” she said. “The ob/gyn residency program.”
He slowed to a halt. “I thought you liked doing clinical research.”
“I do. This isn’t instead of, it’s in addition to. Strictly temporary, part-time.”
He studied her in the fading evening light. “You’re going back to seeing patients?”
“A little. But mostly teaching.”
He nodded and resumed walking, intertwining his fingers with hers. “That’s good. You’ve missed it.”
She frowned. She’d anticipated a lot of reactions, but not this blasé acceptance. “It’ll mean more hours.”
“The nice thing about tenure,” he said, “is the flexibility. I’ll work around your schedule. And I’ve already told Alex and Ross that I can’t spend as much time consulting.”
She mulled that over. “What did they say?”
“They’re married, have families. They understand.”
Maybe they understood, but she felt like she’d just gone down Alice’s rabbit hole. All the more so when he spoke up again. “I heard there’s a good ob/gyn program at UMDNJ-Robert Wood Johnson.”
She glanced at him. “That’s in New Brunswick, isn’t it? It would take me an hour-and-a-half just to get there.”
“Not from Princeton. It’s an easy half hour drive from there.”
She stilled. “You want me to move to Princeton?”
He faced her. “I don’t want a commuter marriage, Bella. It wouldn’t be fair to the kids.”
Now she knew she was tripping. Any minute now, she’d wake up, back in her own bed in Philadelphia, and this whole scene would disappear like a drug-induced hallucination.
“Bella? You look pale. Here, sit down.” He guided her to a nearby bench.
The wood felt solid against her legs. She took a deep breath. “In plain English, Luca. What are you saying?”
“I want us to get married. Have a family. The whole thing.”
“Why?”
His brow wrinkled. “Because we’re good together, Bella. Don’t you agree?”
She was already shaking her head. “That’s no reason to get married.”
“Then how’s this: ti amo. I love you. I adore you. I can’t imagine my life without you.”
“Oh.”
“Nothing to say?”
She swallowed. “You’re sure? That you want to do this long-term, with me? I mean, I’m still trying to figure my life out. I get panic attacks. Not as often as before, but they happen. I think I’m having one now. Oh, God. And this—” She lifted her damaged arm. “This may never come back—”
He cut off the flood of excuses by covering her mouth with his. His lips were soft, persuasive, calming her anxiety while at the same time igniting a different passion. Her eyes drifted shut. She sighed when he pulled away, all the starch drained out of her. He didn’t go far. His forehead touched hers. His hand cupped face, thumb stroking her jaw.
“Do you love me?” he said.
She could sit here forever like this, with his fingers gliding over her skin.
“Bella, do you love me?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Then everything else is irrelevant.”
She opened her eyes, pulled back. “What about trust?”
“What about it?”
“Do you trust me?”
“With my life.”
“No grand gestures, Luca. I’m talking about everyday things.”
“Yes.”
“I’m not giving Jake up as a friend.”
“As long as that is all he is, we shouldn’t have a problem.”
She was silent for a full minute. Then she took a deep breath. “Okay.”
Epilogue
Isabelle stood at the window, gazing out onto the pristine fall of snow outside. It made a lovely picture, and she was glad to have this quiet moment to enjoy it.
By tomorrow, the plows would be out in force, clearing the roads. Good thing, too, since she and Luca were expecting dozens of visitors tomorrow for a New Year
’s Eve party.
The last of the painters and carpenters had left just last week. She’d convinced Luca that he needed some professional help to complete the renovation, since he was already spread thin between his university research, consulting for MegaData Analytics, and being the go-to parent for their daughter. Six years after he’d first bought the property, the house was finally done.
Her breath fogged the window. She rubbed the moisture away with her thumb, then flexed the forefinger in what had become an almost reflexive gesture, making the “okay” sign. Because it was still hard to believe that she could. It wasn’t perfect, and the arm still ached at times, especially when the weather turned cold or damp. But she’d gotten sufficient coordination and strength back to return to the full scope of medical care.
The irony was that, thanks to her enforced year-long hiatus from clinical practice, she’d found something she could be equally passionate about, and now she was happy to split her time between taking care of patients, teaching, and doing clinical research.
She was lucky. Not everyone got a second chance in life. She’d gotten two: with work, and with love.
She glanced back at the sound of Luca’s voice. “She’s down,” he said, closing the bedroom door.
One of the many things she’d learned to appreciate about Luca was how hands-on he was with their daughter. Especially now, when Ariela was teething, he seemed to be the only one who could soothe her.
Isabelle sighed. “Hopefully this time she’ll sleep through the night.”
He turned on the baby monitor on the nightstand and adjusted the volume. “Everything okay with my mother?”
“Jet lag,” Isabelle said. “I gave her some Ambien. She should be fine by morning.”