The Broken One

by Cardello, Ruth

  “What did you end up sending him?”

  I told her, and by her silence I knew it wouldn’t have been her first choice. “I’m sorry, I don’t cook.”

  “Do you know if he got it?”

  “The service said it was delivered.”

  She choked on a laugh. “I’m sorry. Is it wrong that I hope he’s sitting there with those dice, realizing that if he wasn’t such a douche he’d soon be having one hell of a weekend?”

  “You saw him. You think it’s hard for him to find my replacement?” I read his text aloud again. “Who even talks like that? And what did he think I’d write back? ‘Oh, then, please, sir, if it’s convenient for you, could you see if you’re free next weekend?’”

  “He might actually have plans he couldn’t get out of.”

  “I’m sure he does.”

  After a pause, Erica asked, “So, since your weekend is pretty open now—how would you feel about watching my crew?”

  “Like you said—my weekend is wide open.” I straightened my shoulders, refusing to wallow. There was too much in my life to be happy about. “What I meant to say is that I would love to. I know Ava will be thrilled.”

  Another pause. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out, Heather.”

  I wiped down the kitchen counter as I answered. “It’s okay. Really. Things don’t always go the way we hope they will, but I have to believe they work out the way they’re supposed to.”

  “You’re a good friend, a good mother, and you would make some man a great wife.”

  I folded the towel and pushed it aside. “Not everyone is meant to be in a relationship, Erica. I’m fine.”

  “I want to punch that douche.”

  “What douche?” I asked. People came and went. Wishing things were different was an exercise in futility that led nowhere good.

  “Exactly.”

  After picking up Ava from preschool, taking her to a tumbling class, feeding her dinner, giving her a bath, and reading her a story, I was exhausted. When my doorbell rang at eight o’clock, I cursed whoever was risking waking Ava. I was done for the day. D-O-N-E.

  I sprinted to the door before they had a chance to ring the bell again. A courier handed me two bags. I tipped him, then took the bags into my living room.

  For several minutes I sat on the couch just looking at the bags. Were they from Sebastian? If so, did I really want to know what he’d sent?

  I had closed the door on him—once literally and today figuratively. What would a man send after writing what he had? Probably something wildly inappropriate that I’d have to stash or dispose of so Ava wouldn’t find it.

  Whatever was in the bags—was it meant to be an apology?

  We hadn’t even been on a date yet, and we were already at the gifts-as-an-apology stage? What did that say?

  I peered into the first bag, and as I did caught a whiff of something delicious. I pulled out the first item: focaccia bread wrapped in white linen. The next was a thermos that was warm to the touch. I opened it. Just a hot broth soup.

  It was such a considerate gift I didn’t want it to be from Sebastian.

  Then I found the card.

  Ever write something stupid, then hit send by mistake? I have. I hope you’re feeling better tonight.—Sebastian

  P.S. There is also something for Ava.

  It was a touching gesture that had my head spinning. He’d not only made a mistake and acknowledged it, but his peace offering was exactly what I’d been too tired to make for myself.

  But to send something for Ava? I wasn’t ready for him to be part of her life in any way yet. Maybe ever.

  The second bag was lighter. I poured out the contents on the table, and my eyes misted. Eight small stuffed wolves: the puppies Ava had said were certain to come now that Wolfie had his Wolfina.

  I sat back on the couch, shaking my head. It was such a thoughtful gesture, but one that only confused me more.

  It was clear that he regretted what he’d said, but even if we put that behind us—did I want to open myself up to more disappointment? For all I knew this was his way of making sure there would be no hard feelings between us. He didn’t say he would call me. He didn’t ask me to call him.

  He just hoped I felt better.

  Right then I was wishing I felt a lot less of anything. These were exactly the kinds of gifts the kind of man I wanted would give.

  That didn’t make him the man for me.

  Nor did it give me “the balls” to call him again.

  I leaned forward and picked up a piece of bread and dunked it in the soup. “What do you want from me, Sebastian? We agreed that I should stop thanking you. What do I do with this?”

  The next day after work, I left my office a little early to stop at the supermarket before picking Ava up. Nothing against my little one, but shopping was a much faster experience without her.

  Erica and her husband were only going away for one night and would have food, but I wanted to have all the extra toppings for crepes. Chocolate sauce, blueberry pie filling, whipped cream.

  I scanned my small pile of purchase choices and was temporarily transported away from the busy aisle into a tantalizing scene of how I might have been using the whipped cream for an entirely different reason if Sebastian had said yes. Did food and sex live up to the hype? As I’d proclaimed the day before, I’d had sex—what I hadn’t mentioned was that none had been worth mentioning. My first time had been with a boy I’d hooked up with at a party my freshman year. The rest had been with one of my housemates when I lived with Brenda and that gang. We’d never officially become a couple, and I don’t really know why sex temporarily had become something we did.

  Looking back, I think I liked having a warm body beside me as I slept more than I enjoyed the sex. Not that he was bad, but Erica would have been disappointed if she’d seen us together, because he’d never left me glowing.

  I smiled as I remembered telling him that he must have been forgetting to do something because I was better at bringing myself to orgasm. That hadn’t gone over well—not everyone can handle my level of honesty. Even though we’d continued to live in the same house, we didn’t have sex again after that.

  I shrugged. The man I wanted would have seen that conversation as a challenge. I bet Sebastian knows what he’s doing.

  My hands tightened on the handle of the shopping cart as I thought about the dice I’d sent him. He hadn’t mentioned them. I winced. Probably because grown women don’t send things like that to men.

  I might as well have sent him a meme of me on my knees begging him to have sex with me with the words “It’s been so long I need the dice to help me remember what to do.”

  Pathetic.

  My first attempt at being a seductress? Fail.

  I replayed the brief phone conversation I’d had with Sebastian before he’d sent that final text. Calling him, propositioning him, attempting to sound sexy had been so far outside my comfort zone that I’d shut down as soon as I didn’t get an instant yes.

  And I’d been angry.

  But it wasn’t him I was really upset with—it was me.

  “Hey, Heather.” A male voice broke into my reverie.

  I looked up and smiled at the familiar face. “Levi. Hi. What are you doing in town?” He and I had gone out on one date a year before—set up by Erica. He owned a manufacturing company in Hartford.

  “Up for the weekend to see friends.” He looked me over as I did him. Still tall, blond, good looking. Younger than Sebastian. His hazel eyes sparkled when they met mine. “We should get together while I’m here.”

  I wanted to feel something, but I didn’t. “I’d love to, but my weekend is packed.”

  He looked down at the contents of my basket. “Hot date?”

  I almost said, “I wish,” but decided that would give him the entirely wrong impression. I defaulted to my most common excuse. “No, I have Ava. This is for crepes. We’re doing a big sleepover with some of her friends, and they love them. Parentin
g fills all my free time.”

  “I remember.” He nodded slowly. “If you change your mind, you have my number.”

  “If I don’t get going, I’ll be late to pick her up.” I gave him that awkward smile women do when they know there is nowhere a conversation can go and pushed my cart forward a foot. “It was nice to see you.”

  I walked away and let out a relieved breath. An image of Sebastian came to me before I’d even rounded the corner. A smug one, because he knew if he’d asked me to find time for him that weekend I would have.

  I wasn’t just craving sex—I was craving a toe-curling, wall-banging, “leave me in a glowing puddle” fuck. Levi wouldn’t give me that.

  Sebastian’s intense gray eyes promised that and so much more. Just thinking about him had my stomach clenching and my sex tingling in anticipation.

  I pushed my cart through the pharmacy aisle and discreetly threw a box of condoms in my carriage. I might never see Sebastian again, but the prepper in me prevailed.

  In the checkout aisle, I placed my interesting assortment of purchases on the belt and didn’t look the cashier in the eye. My eyes flew to hers, though, when she said, “Don’t forget to say no to Romano.”

  “I’m sorry? What did you say?”

  “The Romano Superstore that is up for public vote. They already bought the property next door like it’s a done deal, but it’s not. We can stop it.”

  “Romano Superstores.” I’d forgotten that connection. I’d heard of them. Did Sebastian work for them? Was it his family’s business? “Do you know a Sebastian Romano?”

  “Know him? He’s the head of Romano Superstores. If you meet him, tell him we don’t want him here. I hear the first thing he’ll do is run this store into the ground—there goes my job. After it closes, he’ll swoop in and get everything for pennies without a thought of whether any of us could pay our rent. But we can stop him. Just vote no on the proposal to allow the Romano store to be built.”

  “I will, thanks,” I said, because . . . well, what else could I say?

  That evening, I was in the middle of a game of Twister at Erica’s home when my phone rang. I would have answered, but it was my turn to be on the mat rather than run the spinner, and I was holding my own. Ava picked up my phone. “It’s Sebastian.” Since she had a boy with that name in her class, it made sense that she could read it. Then her eyes lit up and my hand slipped, but I righted myself. “My hero.”

  “Don’t you dare answer that,” I said in what I hoped was a sufficiently stern tone. Hard to pull real authority off while bent into a pretzel position with three kids. I made a move to straighten.

  Charlotte’s face crumpled. “Don’t quit! I’m finally doing it right.”

  “You can keep playing,” I said gently.

  “Please.” Oh, she knew how to get me.

  I looked back at Ava. “Put my phone down.”

  “But it’s Sebastian.” She swiped to answer it. “Hi, Sebastian. We’re playing Twister. No, she’s busy. She’s playing too.”

  I stood and shot an apologetic look to Charlotte. “Hold my spot. I’ll be right back.” Then I walked over to where Ava had my phone and held out my hand.

  “Bye, Sebastian,” Ava said before handing my phone to me.

  “Bad timing?” he asked with humor in that yummy voice of his.

  “A little. I’m watching Erica’s kids for the night, and everything goes better if I tire them out.”

  “With Twister? I’ve never played. You’ll have to show me how it’s done.” My face warmed, and I turned away from the children. Talking to him again was as exciting as it was embarrassing. The kind of women he dated probably would have parried with their own innuendo, but I couldn’t think of one and wasn’t willing to say much with the audience I had. He broke the awkward silence. “I don’t know what you thought I was saying when you called me the other day, but I wasn’t turning you down. I had just committed to going to Baltimore with my family to check out a school my brother has been accepted to. And my comment? I wrote it to be funny with no intention of sending—”

  “Stop,” I said, not wanting to relive it in such detail. Behind me I heard Charlotte calling my name. I turned. Her brothers were getting restless. Ava was refusing to spin until I returned to the game. “I have to go, but could we start over?”

  “I’ll be back Sunday night. I have business in Durham. Come to lunch with me on Monday.”

  “Mom, Kevin is cheating.”

  “I am not,” Kevin protested.

  “He always cheats,” his brother complained.

  My heart was beating wildly as I considered Sebastian’s invitation. Lunch. Safest meal of the day to share with a man. “Sounds great. See you Monday. I’ll text you a place to meet.”

  “Until Monday, then,” Sebastian said.

  “Mom, Tyler just kicked Kevin.”

  “My foot slipped,” Tyler claimed.

  “I quit,” Charlotte declared.

  “Yes,” I said quickly and ended the call.

  As soon as I was back in the mix, civility returned. Apologies were encouraged and delivered all around. I retook my place on the mat, and Ava called out the next move . . . a move I almost messed up on when Kevin asked, “Are you getting married?”

  “Are you, Mom?” Ava asked. Did she even know what that meant? I wasn’t sure.

  “No. Sebastian is just a friend.”

  Charlotte added. “Mom said he’s hot. Dad didn’t like that, but he went for a run this morning, and he hasn’t done that in a long time. Mom says she’s not sorry she said it, because she’s married but she’s not dead.”

  I coughed back a pained laugh. Did Erica realize how much her little one overheard? I hadn’t. Kids saw and knew everything. I’d put the box of condoms in my bedroom, but I told myself to hide them better when I got home.

  Ava picked up my phone again. “Smile. This is for Sebastian. He said he wanted to see it.”

  Thankfully she didn’t yet know how to send messages.

  Or read much. But it would be just my luck if she chose that moment to show me she’d learned how to open my messages as well. I pretended to slip and fall. “I’m out.”

  This time Charlotte was happy. She didn’t often beat her older brothers at such games, but, since they were stealthily sabotaging each other, she just might.

  I took my phone from Ava and grimaced at how I looked with my ass high in the air, hair hanging down in my face. Not my most flattering photo. I laughed, though, at the antics of the children around me and how one photo had caught Kevin in the act of trying to tip his brother over. It was not a surprise when I heard the two boys hit the floor and Charlotte cheer that she was the winner.

  On impulse I sent Sebastian the best of the photos and wrote: Charlotte won.

  A moment later his answer came back: No, I did. Best photo ever.

  I blushed down to my toes. Best photo? For laughs, maybe.

  “The winner always does the spinner,” Charlotte said as she grabbed the board from Ava.

  Ava grabbed it back. “You didn’t say please.”

  It was a tug of war that meant only one thing in my eyes—game over. “Who is ready for some popcorn and a movie?” A round of cheers erupted, and the board fell to the ground, forgotten. The boys surprised me by cleaning up the game. Charlotte and Ava settled onto the couch, side by side—perfectly happy to be together again.

  A short time later I was breathing easier while watching an animated action film we’d all seen before. The kids were sprawled out, content, munching on popcorn.

  In the peace of the moment, I was able to think again.

  Sebastian had asked me out.

  And I’d said yes.

  Monday felt very far away.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  * * *

  SEBASTIAN

  Seated beside Mauricio on my family’s plane, I was glad I hadn’t backed out of the Baltimore trip—even while looking at the photo Heather had sent. Gian had been da
mn near tears when all of us had surprised him with our plans.

  He was such a good kid. He deserved moments like that.

  Still, holy fuck, I couldn’t tear my attention away from Heather playing Twister. First, yoga pants must have been invented by a man, because the way they clung to her ass was breathtakingly sinful.

  Second, the children in the photo were all laughing. The warmth of the scene pulled at me—I wanted to be there. I wanted to hear the squeals of delight as well as witness whatever tussle had occurred when the boy who was trying to knock his brother over actually did.

  “What are you smiling at?” Mauricio asked, leaning over from his seat beside me. “Interesting photo.”

  I pocketed my phone. “It’s nothing.”

  “Was that Heather? I thought Mom said she had one kid.”

  “She’s babysitting three more this weekend.”

  “Impressive. I get what you like about her.”

  My eyes narrowed. If he so much as mentioned her ass, I was going to slug him. “Do you?”

  “You’ve always wanted a family.”

  The comment didn’t hurt as much as it once would have. “Yeah. I’d given up on that happening, but lately . . . it’s at least a possibility again.”

  “With Heather?”

  “I honestly don’t know, but she’s different. She makes me laugh.”

  Mauricio nodded. “But can she cook?”

  I had no idea, but her kitchen hadn’t been stocked like that of someone who could. “Not important to me.”

  Mauricio patted his stomach. “To you. But I want to be fed when I visit. Someday Mom will want to pass that torch to someone. You’re our best hope for marrying.”

  I chuckled. “You could learn to cook. Or find your own wife.”

  “I totally would,” he joked. “But so far I haven’t found a woman who wants to clean my house while I fuck her friends.”

  I shook my head. “You’re an idiot.”

  He shrugged. “We can’t all be the superserious head of the family. Some of us have to find our joy in other ways.” Without missing a beat, he added, “Hey, instead of passing judgment on my lifestyle, you should be thanking me. I told you the right gifts would have her answering your calls again. Which of my suggestions did you take? The diamond earrings or the bracelet? I haven’t encountered a problem the right jewelry didn’t fix.”