Knowing You

by Maureen Child

CHAPTER NINETEEN

  STEVIE MADE THE DRIVE to her place in record time. Would have been even faster if Tony Candellano hadn’t pulled her over for speeding.

  “This just keeps getting better and better,” she muttered. She could still see the shock on Tony’s face when he’d noticed that she was driving Paul’s car, wearing a man’s robe and pretty much naked beneath it. Thank God she’d had the sense to put Paul’s robe on—otherwise, every last Candellano man would have had the chance to see her naked. At least Tony had been so stunned, he hadn’t remembered to give her a ticket. Oh, yeah.

  The perfect end to the perfect morning.

  Her sometime-lover and ex-friend had humiliated her and embarrassed her with that stupid list. She leaves without her clothes—in a stolen car—and gets caught by the cop brother of said ex-friend.

  If she’d read this in a book, even she wouldn’t believe it.

  Wrapped in her own robe, she clutched Paul’s to her chest and walked across the room to the window that overlooked the alley where she’d left his car. Afternoon sunlight glittered on the gray 4Runner sitting behind her own little car. They looked so cozy, side by side. And yet they didn’t go together at all.

  Sort of like her and Paul.

  She lifted his robe to her face and breathed deeply, inhaling his scent from the soft, faded terrycloth. Tears burned in her eyes and she paid no attention at all as they rained down her face. She had no one to hide them from now. No reason to pretend her heart wasn’t breaking. And just like that, a brief, fierce crying jag hit, leaving her weak and wobbly. A few minutes later, she wiped her tears on Paul’s robe and muttered, “Love sucks.”

  Sniffing, she glanced across the room to Scruffy, curled up on the sofa. “Ironic, isn’t it, Scruff?” she asked. “Just when I figure out I’m in love with him, I find out that I didn’t even really know him.” Her fingers dug into the robe, squeezing the thick fabric tightly. “He made a spreadsheet, Scruff,” she said, as if she still couldn’t believe it. “A list to help him keep from caring for me.”

  It still stung. She’d lost her lover. The man she loved. But more than that, she’d lost her friend. Because how could she ever look at him again? How could she ever talk to him, knowing that while he was smiling at her, touching her, loving her, he’d be jotting mental notes and adding to his “list” of her apparently numerous faults?

  Anger sparked inside her, sputtering to life in the pit of the dark, empty hole at the bottom of her heart. But the hurt was so much bigger than the anger, the pain was overwhelming. Still, her brain worked. Tugging at that last scene with Paul. Pulling at every thread to every conversation. Reworking it, analyzing it. But no matter how she looked at it, she kept coming back to that list.

  She’d thought he was different. She’d thought that he at least cared. But he’d turned out to be just like Nick. Like her mother. Not only didn’t he love her … he’d taken it to new levels. He’d actually gone at it scientifically and figured out just why he shouldn’t love her.

  Stevie’d known all along that this time with Paul would end. “But it could have ended better than this,” she said tightly, fighting a new wave of tears as she threw the window open and leaned out. Tossing his robe high, Stevie watched it take flight, dancing through the air, catching the slight wind, spreading out as if it were a pair of wings attached to some giant mythic bird. It seemed to take forever for it to land, and when it did, it hooked on the raised antenna of the 4Runner and lay still and flat, like a flag on a windless day.

  Like her heart.

  “There you go, Paul,” she said, and closed the window again, locking it tight against the outside world. “Now you don’t even have to speak to me to get your robe.”

  Turning away from the window, she let her gaze slide across the room. Sunlight glanced through the shining glass panes, filtering into every corner of the room, banishing late-afternoon shadows. Yet it did absolutely nothing to the darkness within her.

  She walked to the sofa and curled up in the corner. The TV was on—just for company—the strident tones of the talk show host breaking into the silence that seemed so oppressive. Scruffy scooted in close, cuddling up against her. Stevie idly ran her fingers through the little dog’s soft fur and smiled to herself despite her inner misery when Scruffy flopped onto her back for a better rub. “At least you love me, huh?”

  So that was it, she thought. She could see her future mapped out in front of her as clearly as if it were highlighted on an atlas. She’d live right here over the Leaf and Bean. In these few small rooms. With a succession of dogs and cats, she’d shuffle through her life, smiling at customers and crying herself to sleep. She’d dream every night of a love she’d known too briefly, and always, she’d wonder, what if?

  The phone rang and Stevie stared at it. She thought about not answering. After all, it might be Paul, and just how much humiliation was she supposed to take in one day? But it could also be Debbie. Or Margie.

  She grabbed the receiver. “Hello?”

  “Stevie, come downstairs and let me in.”

  “Carla.” A well of emotions opened up inside Stevie—most profoundly, a weird sort of disappointment that it wasn’t Paul on the phone. She would have liked the chance to hang up on him. Her fingers curled around the receiver and squeezed. Ordinarily she’d be happy to see Carla. A nice long talk with her best friend had always been enough to cheer her up when she needed it. But now—

  “Hello? I know you’re there, Stevie.”

  “Carla, I just don’t feel like—”

  “Telling me why you were driving Paul’s car while naked?”

  Stevie groaned. Thanks, Tony. “Your brother’s got a big mouth.”

  “That’s why I love him.” Carla’s smile came across in her voice. “The man is genetically incapable of keeping a secret.”

  “I’ll remember that.”

  “So? You coming down or do I have to break down the door?”

  In spite of everything, Stevie smiled. “I’d actually like to see that.”

  “Well, just got my nails done, so if it’s all the same to you…”

  “Right.” Surrendering to the inevitable, Stevie stood up. “I’m coming.”

  * * *

  Inside fifteen minutes, they were both on the couch, clutching water glasses filled to the brim with icy margaritas.

  Stevie took a long drink and leaned back into the cushions. “At least you bring booze when you demand entry.”

  “Thought maybe you might need to talk about something.”

  “Like?”

  “Like,” Carla said, then paused for a drink herself, “why you were wearing a man’s robe and driving Paul’s car?”

  “That could take quite a while,” Stevie said, and wished she’d had time to finish her drink before starting in on this.

  Carla propped her feet up on the coffee table, leaned back, and shot her friend a long knowing glance. “Do I look busy?”

  “I don’t know where to start.”

  “Start with what’s going on with you and Paul.”

  Stevie watched her friend, trying to decide what she was thinking. But like Paul, Carla only let people see what she wanted them to see. Sipping at her straw, she let the icy concoction slide down her throat and hoped the numbing sensation would spread to her heart.

  “Nothing’s going on,” she said softly. “Not now. Not anymore.”

  Carla sat up, swinging her long dark curly hair behind her shoulders. “So there was something.”

  “It … didn’t start out to be anything. It just sort of … happened.” God, Carla’s wedding seemed like a lifetime ago. But it had only been a few short weeks. So much had happened. So much had changed in her life. And yet, for all the changes, for all the heartache, she was right back where she’d started.

  Alone.

  Reaching out, Carla took Stevie’s hand and waited for her to meet her gaze. Then she said simply, “Tell me.”

  Tell her? Well, why not? She didn’t have any
thing left to lose now, did she? Paul was gone and whether or not she’d be welcome at the Candellano house, it would never be the same again. She wouldn’t feel easy there anymore. She wouldn’t be comfortable at the house where she’d found so much love over the years.

  So it had started. Her biggest fear. She’d lost Paul already. How long would it take the rest of the family to close ranks and shut her outside? Pulling in a deep breath and blowing it out again, Stevie slapped the final coat of paint on this masterpiece of misery.

  She might as well go for broke and tell Carla all of it. The good, the bad, and the ugly. She hated that she was braced for a body blow as she started talking. What she was about to admit could mean the difference between having Carla as a friend or an enemy. With the Candellanos it was “one for all and all for one.”

  She might very well end this day with no friends at all.

  “I’m in love with your brother.”

  “Nick?”

  “Paul.”

  Carla blinked. She looked like a cartoon character who’d been handed an anvil just as she went off a cliff.

  “You’re pissed,” Stevie said softly, and mentally said good-bye to the first of the Candellanos.

  “Not pissed. Confused.” Carla shook her head and leaned back on the sofa again. “The word stunned wouldn’t be out of line, either. Jeez, Stevie. I don’t know what to say.”

  “Me, neither.” Shoving one hand through her hair, Stevie took another sip of her drink, swallowed, then said, “I never expected this to happen.”

  Carla laughed shortly. “I know how you feel.”

  Stevie set her glass down on the coffee table with a solid thunk. “Oh, I don’t think you can.”

  “Christ, Stevie.”

  “It doesn’t matter anymore. It’s over now.”

  “Over? I’m just finding out it started and now it’s over?” Carla stood up and started pacing. Her footsteps slapped against the wood floor and sounded to Stevie’s bruised mind like a clucking tongue. “These guys are my brothers, Stevie.”

  “I know,” she said, and felt her friend’s withdrawal. Just as she’d expected, a line had been drawn in the sand and she was on the wrong side of it.

  “I mean,” Carla stopped, looked at her, and shrugged, “I guess I knew deep down that you and Nick would never really make it.”

  “Huh?” She slapped her ear with the heel of her hand as if she couldn’t possibly be hearing right.

  “Oh,” Carla went on, waving one hand to dismiss even the thought, “you guys were way too different. Mr. Party Hearty and Miss Home and Hearth? No way.”

  Stunned, Stevie just looked at her. Carla’d never said anything like this before and she wasn’t sure what it was going to mean.

  “But now you love Paul?” Carla’s voice dropped to a whisper as she kept talking more to herself than to Stevie. “Paul’s way better for you, but what’s this gonna do to Nick? How’ll he take it? Nick’s life sucks right now and—wait a minute. Why am I so worried about Nick? He’s a big boy. He made his own messes, right? Well, now he’ll just have to get a grip.” She smiled, then another thought hit home. “God, Mama.” Carla slapped one hand to her forehead. “Man, what a mess.”

  “I know,” Stevie said, misery flooding her voice.

  “You know I love you, Stevie,” Carla said on a sigh. “But they’re my brothers.”

  “I know.”

  “And I don’t want to choose sides.” Then she planted both hands on her hips, tipped her head to one side, and admitted, “Okay, I did choose your side when Nick was such an ass two years ago. But this is just getting weird.”

  “I don’t want you to have to take sides.” That’s what she’d been trying to avoid by making like a secret agent lover. But she could see the writing on the wall. It would be just as she’d feared all along. The Candellanos would become a small civil war. Brother against brother. Sides would be taken, battle lines drawn, and no matter what else happened, Stevie would be on the outside looking in.

  Despair welled up inside her.

  “Still,” Carla said, and came around to sit on the edge of the coffee table in front of Stevie, “thanks to Jackson, I also know what it’s like to really love someone.”

  Stevie sniffed and blinked to clear her blurry vision as she watched her friend in stunned silence.

  Carla smiled and thought about it for a minute or two before saying, “So if you do love Paul, then you have to go for it.”

  “What?” Stevie couldn’t believe it. She’d been completely prepared for Carla to be seriously pissed and stomp off. She’d expected shouting. Anger. She’d expected to lose her friend. Instead, she was getting understanding. Sympathy. And Stevie almost didn’t know what to do with it. After all this, after all the worry, Carla didn’t hate her. Her aching heart eased a little, which was almost as painful as the tearing break had been. But despite what Carla said now, it was all too late.

  “You’re crazy if you let me or Nick or Mama get in the way, Stevie.” Carla smiled at her. “Love’s too big. It’s too important.”

  Important? It was everything. But she hadn’t really known that until the chance of it was gone. God. Stevie’d thought there couldn’t be any more pain than what was still simmering inside her. Apparently, though, there was room for more.

  Yippee!

  “Come on,” Carla said, and, standing, held out one hand to her.

  “Come on where?”

  “Home.”

  * * *

  Paul had missed her.

  Because Nick, pissed off about his sore jaw, hadn’t given him a ride into town, Paul had missed his chance to follow her right away. Now, two hours later, she was gone.

  She wasn’t at the Leaf and Bean.

  His car was, though.

  Paul stared at his robe, hanging from the antenna, and felt his insides tighten. The afternoon sun slid behind a bank of gray clouds, and with the sudden darkness came a chill that seemed to seep into his bones.

  “Damn it.” He threw a glance at the window above and wanted to scream her name, even though he knew she wasn’t there.

  “That’s very unusual, isn’t it?” A small, interested voice came from somewhere close by.

  Paul turned around to see Virginia, Town Crier, approaching. Great. The old biddy’s nose was practically twitching.

  “Now why would a robe be hanging on your car?” she wondered aloud, coming close enough that he was pretty sure she was going to start sniffing at him like some damned bloodhound.

  His back teeth ground together, but he refused to give her what she wanted … which was a nice, juicy piece of gossip to trot around town. “I don’t know, Virginia.”

  “Seems strange,” she said, as if he hadn’t spoken at all, “your car parked behind Stevie’s restaurant. She’s not here, you know.”

  “I know.” Hell, he’d pounded on her door until his knuckles were bloody. Anger had him fuming. He’d wanted Stevie and got Virginia.

  He must have been a real bastard in a past life to earn this kind of karma.

  “But your car is,” the woman added thoughtfully, and reached up to smooth lacquered hair that probably hadn’t been mussed since 1925. “With a robe on it. Is it your robe?”

  Oh, for God’s sake.

  What the hell had his day come to? It had started out with lovemaking, gone into war, and now here he stood playing word games with a woman who’d terrified him as a kid. Irritation pumped through him with a fierceness Paul hadn’t expected. He’d been pushed to the edge and Virginia was all it had taken to send him right over the abyss. “Yes, it’s my robe, Virginia,” he snapped. “And it’s hanging on my car because Stevie wore it home from my house.”

  A quick horrified intake of breath was her only reply. He could actually see the wheels in her brain turning. Hell. She was practically drooling.

  Cold wind rattled down the alley, slapped hard against Paul, and swatted Virginia before swirling off into the distance. Her hair didn’t move.


  Paul stepped closer to the old woman and noted that she stepped back, pretty spryly, considering her age. She didn’t trust him. Well, fine. She and Stevie could compare notes later. But for now … “And you know what else?” he demanded, then went on without giving her a chance to speak. “She was naked under the robe.”

  Glee flickered in her eyes and he could almost see her feet dancing in place, itching to be running to her cronies, spreading the story all over everywhere. Good. He was through hiding. He was through with playing these stupid games. He was through apologizing for loving someone. He was through pretending that he didn’t love Stevie so as not to upset the family.

  Screw the family.

  “And while you’re telling tales, you might as well have it all,” he said, suddenly deciding to let everything hang out.

  “Well, I never !” Insulted but intrigued, she leaned closer, licking her chops.

  “I love her.”

  Virginia’s mouth fell open.

  “That’s right,” he said as a wild laugh skipped from his throat. Then he tipped his head back, spreading his arms wide. “I love Stevie Ryan!”

  “You’re crazy, that’s what you are.”

  Crazy?

  He stared at her and thought about it, and as he did, another laugh shot from him.

  Cool, calm, rational, logical Paul Candellano crazy? Well, if he was, it was about time. He’d been logical too long. Rational too long.

  And what had it gotten him?

  Exactly nothing.

  “You know what? You’re right. I am crazy. And it feels great.” Giving in to an impossible urge, he leaned down, planted a hard, fast kiss on the old woman’s fire engine red lips, then grinned at her like a loon. “Spread the word, Virginia. Paul’s crazy and Stevie’s his.”

  Then he whirled around, snatched his robe off the antenna, and tossed it into the backseat. Firing up the engine, he backed up, waved to the stunned old woman, and tore off down the alley. Now all he had to do was find Stevie and make her believe he loved her and that nothing else mattered—and he had to do it all before Virginia had the whole town talking.

  * * *

  Home.

  Mama Candellano’s would always be home to Stevie. Even if she was never welcome there again, she would have the memories of warmth and love and acceptance. And maybe someday that would feel like enough.