“It’s always easier to adjust flying west than east,” Valentina said bracingly.
Karen tilted her head and responded drolly, “That’s good, or they’re going to wonder why they hired me as library director.”
“But you’re the boss now. I’m excited for you!”
“Thanks.” She couldn’t keep the pride from her voice. She was good at what she did, and this promotion justified her years of hard work. One of the things that had drawn Tate and her together was their ambition, but Karen could turn it off. Tate had never been able to. “I think I’m going to like the new position, even if Half Moon Bay’s library system is smaller than Palo Alto’s. HMB is home, and I’m glad to be back. My parents and best friends are there. I think my brother wants to settle there after college too.”
“Does Ben know what he wants to do?”
Karen groaned. “Lawyer.”
“No!” The other woman’s eyes widened.
“Yes.”
A laugh tinkled from Valentina. “You’re surrounded.”
“Not with Tate and his family out of the picture.” Karen jutted her chin pugnaciously. “Now, there’s just Ben. Assuming he really does finish law school.”
The bride stuck out her tongue. “Tate is clearly not out of the picture. He’s standing right over there.”
“When I board that plane for California, he is. After that, he can talk to my divorce attorney.”
“If he doesn’t talk you out of it,” Valentina retorted. “Gio and I have had our problems over the years—nothing as bad as what you dealt with, of course—but there were times I considered leaving him. But I never did because I thought: do I truly believe I’ll find a man who fits me better than him? The answer has always been no. So…do you truly think you’ll find a man who suits you better than Tate?”
“I’m not a fortune teller, Valentina. There’s no way I can know that.”
She pinned Karen with a stare. “Remember there is risk no matter what you choose. You only see the risk of being hurt if you take him back and it’s bad. But there’s also the risk that you throw him away and never find anyone as good. You already have a man who loves you, and who you love in return. That’s the most important part. Isn’t that precious enough to hold on to?”
Karen’s lips formed a moue. “I thought Gio made a deal about not pressuring either of us.”
Valentina’s fingers moved in graceful arcs. “Yes, but as you said, it’s my day and I should take shameless advantage of it.”
How could Karen not laugh at that? Her own words turned against her. “Touché.”
Chapter Nine
Karen was late.
Yeah, she was running late meeting Tate, but worse she was officially late. As in, she should definitely have started her period by now and hadn’t. As in, she might be pregnant. She hurried along the cobblestone walkway and her stomach executed a nauseating roll that she absolutely refused to believe might be morning sickness. She told herself not to panic, not to assume anything. Her cycle wasn’t being regulated by birth control anymore, so that meant fluctuations could happen. But still, she should have started two or three days ago. Nothing so far. No spotting, no bloating, no signs of the impending monthly.
Another rollercoaster-style belly twist, but it was followed by a flutter of excitement. And…maybe…hope? Yes, she wanted kids. Always had. So, even though it would be damned inconvenient and no doubt difficult to entwine her life with Tate’s in a fundamental, genetic way that a divorce could do nothing to sever, she would welcome a child that came from this affair. She would love the baby with her whole heart, and she’d just have to put on her big girl panties when it came to dealing with any problems or discomfort that cropped up from her continued contact with Tate.
She refused to consider that some of her excitement sparked from having that possible connection to Tate. Nope, the enthusiasm was just for the baby she’d always wished for. Period.
And there was Tate, waiting for her in front of the movie theater. She knew the moment he saw her, because his face lit, smiling in a way that he reserved just for her. It told her she was special, loved. No. She forced that treacherous thought away. It was just sex. If she was so special or loved, she would have been a priority for him and they wouldn’t be divorcing. She needed to remember that. It didn’t matter what her hormones said, her logic would win that argument every time. No sex was good enough to put up with the life she used to lead.
Not that he’d said anything about wanting her back—Julie and Valentina had said that, not Karen’s soon-to-be-ex. Karen and Tate were boarding separate planes tomorrow, and there’d been no mention of wanting more than short-term sex, so she needed to slow her freak out. She had enough to worry about without borrowing trouble.
Then again, she hadn’t exactly encouraged any deep discussions, had she? Nope, she’d actively avoided them. So even if Tate had wanted to have some kind of heart-to-heart, she’d made sure he got no opportunities.
“Hey, you.” He popped a quick kiss on her cheek, then turned to hold the theater door open for her. “I bought tickets to the movie you wanted already. Let’s go.”
She’d picked the romantic comedy instead of the action flick they were showing, which Tate had accepted stoically. He might be a pretty cultured guy, but he loathed a chick flick as much as the next red-blooded American male. Too bad—if he wanted to sit next to her for the movie, he’d have to suck it up.
Mean, yeah, but hey…it was her vacation, so she could do what she wanted. No one was twisting his arm to make him join her. That was his choice. And maybe she wanted him to prove he’d put up with whatever she had to dish out, since he’d put her through so much during their marriage. She sighed, not liking what that realization said about her. Maybe he deserved it, but she should be beyond pettiness.
Ah, well. She was human.
The movie theater looked the same as it had twelve years ago. A little more run down, but essentially unchanged. Nice. Once upon a time, they’d loved this place because it played movies in English and they’d both been homesick for America and didn’t want to admit it.
They slipped into the already darkened theater and found seats just as the opening credits were rolling. Hey, they’d missed the lame previews, so her lateness was actually great timing. Go her.
Now all she had to do was find a home pregnancy test and break the final news to Tate, one way or the other. The movie wasn’t good enough to hold her attention—it was cringe-worthy, in fact—so her thoughts circled around the maybe-baby and how or when she should admit she was supposed to have started her period.
Okay, enough already. She tried to regroup and focus on the film, which might have been a mistake, because really watching it made it worse. Or made it clear just how bad it was. Wow, this comedy blew.
“No wonder this one tanked in the box office.” Tate’s breath ruffled the tiny hairs at the base of her neck, and she shivered.
Silently, she agreed with him. This was quite possibly the saddest movie of all time. It tried to be funny, but wasn’t. The guy was an unlikable dude-bro who was clearly a pointless waste of space, and the woman tried to be witty but the dialogue delivery was so bad she just sounded like a catty bitch. They might be perfect for each other, but Karen didn’t give a damn if they ended up together at this point. They could Thelma and Louise off a cliff for all she cared. Actually, that might make the movie more interesting. Saddest. Movie. Ever.
Tate grunted. “If he gives that goofy-ass laugh one more time—”
Whatever threat he was going to make was cut off by the actor’s goofy-ass laugh. Tate’s head fell back against his seat and Karen was pretty sure he whimpered like a mortally wounded animal.
Since the film was her pick, she felt the need to defend it, no matter how much she agreed. “Maybe the ending is good.”
“It could only be good if they died in a fiery explosion.”
The comment eerily echoed her previous thought. She didn’t like
that they were so in tune. They’d been out of sync in every possible way for a long time. His hand curled around hers and it felt too good, too natural. Her chest squeezed and her stomach roiled. Emotions again. Feelings she’d been shoving away for days. If she were brutally honest, she’d admit that what scared her most was that her traitorous, stupid heart felt the same as it had when they’d first come to Italy, as if she were falling in love all over again.
As if the last eight years of suffering hadn’t happened.
It was insane. It was terrifying.
It made her want to curl up and cry.
“I need to get out of here.” She grabbed her purse and shot from her seat.
Tate didn’t say a word, just stayed hot on her heels as she bolted for the door. She pushed out into the cool evening air and sucked in slow, even breaths. Calm down, Karen. Just calm down. You’re okay. Everything is going to be fine.
If she told herself that often enough, maybe it would be true.
Tate forced himself not to demand what was wrong.
She wanted to walk back to the hotel and she didn’t want to talk, so he kept pace with her and kept his mouth shut. It was damn hard. Something clearly wasn’t right, and he’d be a fool if he thought it wasn’t about them, but he sensed pushing right now would end in disaster. Doing nothing went against the grain, but he did it anyway.
Even more frustrating, he’d tried to bring up the topic of reconciliation twice since wedding, but she was an expert at distraction—funny quips that made them laugh and changed the subject, hot seduction that left him mindless with lust, rushing off to see another tourist attraction, which put them in too public a setting for that kind of conversation. It was as if she knew what he wanted and didn’t want him to ask. Maybe that thought was pure paranoia or just plain fear, but he couldn’t help thinking that way.
Karen’s brow furrowed and her gaze was on her feet, as if each step on the uneven cobblestone streets of the Trastevere required her full attention. Whether she realized it or not, she was trusting him to watch out for her. If she were alone, she’d be more alert to the normal dangers inherent to city living—speeding cars, muggers or worse. The small display of trust, even if unconsciously done, was a good sign. He wanted her trust back, badly.
When she made a wrong turn, he set his hand on her waist and guided her back in the hotel’s direction. “We’ll be there soon, sweetheart.”
Nodding, she gave him a quick glance, and he read the turmoil there.
What could he say? How could he make this better? A familiar helplessness closed around him, choking him. It had been a decade of not knowing what to do or say to fix things between them. Failure coated his tongue.
He blew out a breath. “Let’s get you back. Maybe take a hot bath, and I’ll run to the gelato place next to the hotel and get some of that chocolate chip flavor you like—stracciatella.”
“That sounds nice, actually.” Her mouth worked for a moment. “Sorry I freaked out back there.”
He shrugged, spotting their hotel as they turned the last corner. “It was a bad movie anyway. I was glad to leave.”
“Yeah.”
An awkward silence fell between them and he scrabbled to find something to fill it. “Valentina and Gio’s flight should have taken off by now.”
“If he could pry her out of bed.” A little grin formed on her lips. “She’s always wanted to stay at the Grand Hotel de la Minerve.”
The smile made some of the tightness in his chest ease. He kept his tone light. “Yep, and even with the slight delay before they left town, the hotel means no crazy family, just them. He’s a smart man.”
She nodded. “Though it is a long flight to Bora Bora, she’ll be happy to try out her new bikinis.”
Tate cocked a brow, angling her a sardonic look. “Should I ask how much fabric is involved in these bathing suits? Or, rather, how little?”
“Probably not.” Karen tapped a fingertip against her lips. “She’s not quite ready for a day at the nudist beach, but she’s close.”
“He’s not only a smart man, but a lucky one,” he replied, sotto voce.
“A sentiment he’d agree with wholeheartedly.”
He snorted. “With a few added details about his brilliance. Shy and retiring, Gio is not.”
“Nor Valentina.” She tipped her palms up in a philosophical shrug.
“We really did good with those two.” He patted her shoulder. “Nutty as they are, they do fit.”
“Yeah, they fit like a blowtorch and gasoline. Explosive.” The first full smile of the evening unfurled on her mouth.
He laughed. “Right.”
Pausing at the window of the shop next to the hotel, she peered inside. “I think I’d like my gelato now. The stracciatella is calling my name.”
“Hmm.” He held the door open for her, and the alluring scent of her perfume filled his nose as she swept past. “I can understand the appeal, but I need a final dose of the amarena cherry gelato. No one back home does it quite like they do.”
She stepped to the end of the short line at the counter. “Sadly, the best place I’ve found for pistachio gelato in our area is Costco. Though I admit I haven’t looked very hard.”
“My mother would be horrified you shop there.” He rolled his eyes at himself. As if he needed to bring up his family right now.
They reached the counter and placed their orders. A few minutes later, they had bowls of cold, creamy goodness and a spot at a small table by the window.
He’d hoped she’d let the mother comment slide, but after they’d sat, she quipped, “Maybe I should bring Francesca a quart of the stuff and tell her it’s from some chichi new place. Bet she’d love it.”
“Ha.” He took a bite of the tart cherry confection. “I’d love to see the expression on her face when you told her.”
“Like she sucked a lemon, no doubt.” She wrinkled her nose, then shrugged. “But, you know, for all her snobbery, she never seemed to care that I didn’t grow up in the country club crowd. She’s not a warm and fuzzy person, but she’s not unkind either.”
At least she had something good to say about his hot mess of a family. He was glad she had a few pleasant memories, since he hoped they’d stay her in-laws. “Mother’s got her nicer points. Well-off doesn’t necessarily mean asshole.”
She smirked. “No, Francesca left the assiness to your father.”
“Indeed.” Yeah, he’d seen that one coming. Karen and his dad had gotten along well enough, but she was entirely justified in resenting his father’s role in the breakdown of their marriage. The worst part was, Dad could see what was going on and he just didn’t care. Blind ambition and bullheadedness were stock in trade for Robert Patton. “Is ‘assiness’ a real word?”
“It is now.” She stabbed her spoon at him to punctuate the point.
The shop had cleared out until there was only one other couple, who were busy making eyes at each other on the far side of the gelateria. Since it was quiet and relatively private, he ventured to ask, “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Hmm.” She licked a bit of gelato from her thumb. “You know…I’d really rather show you the present Valentina gave me.”
Curiosity piqued inside him, because any gift from Valentina that put a naughty glint in Karen’s gaze had to be good, but he quashed it. “We could do both. Show and tell.”
Her expression sobered. “No. I really, truly do not want to talk about anything intense, Tate. If that means you want to bail on the last night with me, I understand.”
The quaver in her voice made him hesitate. Familiar frustration flooded him—not knowing what to do. The irony was sharp. He was the epitome of confidence in the courtroom, but with his wife he was an insecure, tongue-tied mess. At least when it came to serious topics.
“Do you want me to bail?” He locked his gaze with hers, all but daring her to look away.
Her throat worked as she swallowed hard. “No, but I also don’t want A Talk.”
“Right, the divorce settlement stuff.” She nodded.
“And the baby.”
Her face paled, every inch of color draining away.
“Do you have anything you want to tell me about that?” His gut clenched as he realized what might be bothering her. Perhaps it wasn’t their relationship, per se, but the consequences of what they’d done.
She shook her head so hard, the short strands of her hair flew out in a cloud around her face. Her gaze dropped to the tabletop. “No, nothing is certain yet. Still.”
A lie. After twelve years of knowing her, he could spot falsehoods when she told them. She was rarely dishonest, and maybe this was more denial than true dishonesty. Denial about the possibility of child. Meaning she thought she might be pregnant. Something hot and sweet burned his chest, flooding him with…hope. God, yes, he wanted to see her lovely body ripen with his baby, wanted to cradle that child in his arms, hold its finger when it learned to walk, hold his breath and pray when that kid learned to drive.
He sucked in a lungful of air, contained the burgeoning swell of excitement. “Okay, so…that’s something we have to discuss when we get home, right?”
“Right.” She lifted a spoonful of gelato to her mouth, and he noted her fingers trembled.
“I have to admit, I’m glad this isn’t the last night we’ll see each other.” Time to push, just a bit. “It’s been nice to reconnect and remember the good times we’ve had together. Our marriage wasn’t all bad.”
“No, it wasn’t.” Her gaze softened, but then her lips firmed into a stubborn line. “But at the end, it wasn’t very good either.”
“True.” He sat back in his chair. “I wish I could change that.”
“You can’t.” Her eyes narrowed, letting him know he was treading on shaky ground.
To press his case or not? The clock was ticking down before they left Rome, but as he’d pointed out, they’d still have to deal with each other stateside.
“The past is definitely something I can’t change, you’re right.” He took a final bite of the amarena and set his dish aside. “However, I can work on shaping the future into something better, can’t I?”
Roman Reunion (Destination: Desire) Page 11