by Linda Seed
But seeing them here today, in such numbers, was unsettling.
There was AJ, being cuddled and held by his adoring father.
There was a very cute little girl, probably about three years old, who had been dancing with her father by standing on his feet, both of them grinning happily.
There was the little boy at the table across from them who was being lovingly cared for by his mother as she cut his meal into tiny chunks and gently encouraged him to try some foods he was unfamiliar with.
All of it added up to something he couldn’t quite place. Some ache, some unnamed gnawing in his chest.
And that was why he didn’t want kids, wasn’t it? He didn’t want to feel that gnawing, that phantom injury, all the time.
Who would?
Underneath it, he kept hearing Karen’s voice in his head.
Don’t you think your own childhood might be relevant here?
Isn’t your own past something you should think about?
He had it under control, had the feelings firmly in check, until Sofia’s speech.
Goddamn it, the speech.
Martina braced herself as Sofia began to speak about Aldo, their father.
“You probably noticed no one walked me down the aisle today,” Sofia said. “I had no shortage of volunteers. Patrick’s father offered to do the honors, and I would have, indeed, been honored. My brother-in-law, TJ, stepped up, too, and I love him for that and for so many other things. I didn’t turn down those offers due to lack of love or gratitude. I turned them down because I wasn’t really alone. My father was beside me. I felt him there as surely as if he were still with us.”
Martina muttered, “Damn it,” and reached for a napkin to dab her eyes.
“My father—and my mother, too—meant so much to me and my sisters. They still do,” Sofia went on. “They always will. He was at my side as I walked to Patrick. And she was with me when I said ‘I do.’ They’ll both be with me every day of my life, with their love and encouragement. I’ll always ...” Sofia’s voice broke, and she took in a deep, shaky breath, tears falling down her cheeks. “I’ll always look to their guidance in our marriage, because they showed me how to love. They showed me what a true partnership looks like. They taught me how to give myself to someone the way I gave myself to Patrick today, the way I hope to give myself to him every day. And they will be in my heart always. Mom, Dad, I love you.” Sofia sat back down and dissolved into tears, and Patrick held her.
All three of them—Martina, Benny, and Bianca—were in various stages of recovery, wiping their eyes, heaving in shuddering breaths, reaching to take each other’s hands.
Abruptly, Chris stood and stormed out of the room.
“What’s that about?” TJ asked.
Martina looked after Chris as he left, and she saw the angry scowl on his face.
“I don’t know. I just ... I don’t know.”
She found him outside in the vineyard, amid vines coming alive with tiny green buds. He had his back to her, his hands on his hips, looking down at the fertile earth.
Martina came up behind him, and he didn’t look at her.
“Chris? What’s wrong?”
He didn’t say anything, so she tried again.
“Chris?”
He looked over his shoulder at her. “Why did you bring me here?” His voice simmered with barely restrained anger.
“What?”
“What exactly were you trying to accomplish with ...” He spread his arms. “All this?”
She kept her voice low, even. “I wasn’t trying to accomplish anything. I just thought—”
“You thought what?” He spun around to face her. “What, Martina? You thought you could bring me here with your family, and your friends, and Sofia and Patrick, and the kids ...” He laughed bitterly. “All those kids. And you thought what? You could make me love you? Well, that part worked. I do. I do love you, God help me.”
“Chris ...” She reached out to touch him, and he shook off her hand.
“Don’t you get it?” he barked out at her.
“Get what?”
“I can never be what you need. Never. Martina ... Jesus. You deserve so much, but I can’t give it to you. And you don’t want what I do have to give. The property—”
“I thought we were past that.”
“Yeah, well ... we’re not.” He looked bewildered, and she waited for him to go on. “Because if you’re not interested in the money, there’s nothing else I have that’s worth giving.”
Did he really think that? Was that really what he believed?
“That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it? Alexis was only interested in what I could buy for her. My father...” He rubbed his face with his hands. “My father left and only contacted me when I had money to give him. I wasn’t enough to keep my mother sober.”
A fat tear ran down her cheek, but she said nothing—she just waited for him.
“I have never been enough for anyone in my life. Not one person. How can I possibly hope to be enough for a baby? For a child? For you?”
And there it was—the thing she hadn’t understood, the thing that was holding him back from giving himself to her.
“You are enough.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
“No. No.” He shook his head. “The way Sofia feels about your mother and father ... the way all of those kids in there today were laughing with their parents, having fun, just feeling safe and happy ... How can I give that to a child when I’ve never had it myself? When I don’t even know what that looks like? It’s impossible, Martina. I would fail you. And I don’t want that to happen.”
She could see his hands shaking. She wanted to go to him, to take him into her arms, but she sensed he wasn’t ready yet. If she did that now, he’d push her away.
“What happened when you were a child was your parents’ failure. Not yours. It was never yours.”
He glanced at her, then looked back down at the ground, at the earth beneath his feet. “How do I know that? How can I believe that?”
Whether he was ready or not, she couldn’t keep her distance anymore. She went to him and put her arms around him, and he held her, pressing his face into her bare shoulder.
“I’ll believe it enough for both of us,” she said.
38
She went home with him that night, and she made love to him like a woman who’d waited decades just for the man in her arms. She gave herself to him wholeheartedly, cherishing his soul and his body.
Afterward, as she lay tucked up beside him, she tested the waters, feeling her way toward talking about everything that had happened.
“Chris?” She lay with her head on his chest, her arm across his belly. “What brought everything up for you? Why today?”
He stroked her hair languidly. “Weddings are about families. I guess it was just too much family in one day. Too much of all of those happy families.”
“Because yours wasn’t.”
“No. It wasn’t.” He hesitated. “It’s not that I don’t want other people to be happy.…”
“Of course not.”
“It’s just … Why not me, you know? Why do other people get to have all of that, and I don’t? Plus …”
She raised up onto her elbow to look at him. “Plus what?”
“Plus, I’ve been talking to a therapist. Karen.”
“You have?”
“Yeah. And some of the things she said … I don’t know. I was just thinking about them, that’s all.”
She positioned herself on top of him so she could be as close to him as possible. “Have you ever done that before? Seen a therapist?”
“No.”
“So, why now?”
A wry grin pulled at his lips. “Well. I just thought … it kind of matters more now. Me getting my shit together.”
“Because of me?” Her heart sped up, and she felt a warm glow rise in her chest.
“Yes. Because of you.” He carefully placed a
kiss on the tip of her nose. “My relationships always fail. Always. And I don’t want this one to fail.”
“I don’t either.” She wiggled to get higher on his chest so she could kiss him. The kiss was long and delicious, and it made her feel as though she were in the perfect place—exactly where she belonged.
After a while, she said the thing she’d been gearing up to say. “Chris … I don’t need to have kids. Not really.”
“I think you do. I think it’s important to you, and you shouldn’t have to give that up.”
“Still … I didn’t mean right away. I didn’t mean tomorrow. I—”
“I know. I get that.” He brushed a lock of hair out of her face with one finger. “But someday. It’s going to be important to you someday.”
And someday soon, she thought. Her biological clock wasn’t going to wait forever. But she didn’t say that, because she really was willing to give it up for him. She could deal with the disappointment, if it came to that. As long as she had him.
“It’s important. But it’s not everything.” But she could feel a swell of emotion—of sorrow—spreading through her at the thought.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said. “I tried to give you something before that you didn’t want, when I bought the property. Now, there’s something you really do want that I can give you. Kids. Someday.”
She could hear that it was hard for him to say. Hard for him to do, to offer her this.
“Are you saying …”
“I’m saying, I’m working on it. And I’ll keep working on it. I’m saying I’m not there yet, but I think I can get there.”
“Really?” She tried to keep the happy squeal out of her voice, though she wasn’t entirely successful.
“I could have another chance, right?” He gave her a lazy half grin. “I mean, my first parent-child relationship didn’t go well, when I was the child. But this could be a chance to do it over. To do it right. With me on the other side of the equation.”
“With me,” she said.
“With you. Always with you.”
He rolled her over so that he lay top of her, and after that, they didn’t talk anymore.
The next day, they went to Martina’s house, where everyone was getting together for breakfast for one last celebration before Sofia and Patrick left on their honeymoon.
Martina brought a box of pastries from the French Corner Bakery, and Benny was in the kitchen frying bacon. Bianca and TJ had just arrived with the baby, and Bianca was washing her hands at the kitchen sink so she could jump in to make her famous mushroom and mozzarella omelets.
Martina and Chris came in smiling, relaxed, and holding hands. That earned them some significant looks from the other Russos.
“Good morning, you two,” Benny said from where she stood in front of a cast iron frying pan. “Looks like you had a good night.”
“Not as good as Sofia and Patrick, probably,” Martina said, deflecting attention from herself. “Are they even up yet?”
“Nope.” Bianca started taking omelet ingredients out of the refrigerator. “Haven’t heard a peep from them yet.”
“Aww. That’s sweet.” Martina grinned. “They’re going to have to get up if they want to have a leisurely breakfast and then get to the airport on time.”
“Hey, newlyweds!” Benny called out. “Untangle from each other and get the hell up!”
A muffled, barely decipherable sound of protest came from Sofia and Patrick’s bedroom.
“I brought bear claws!” Martina called out.
That did it. A few minutes later, Sofia came out in a bathrobe, her hair mussed and a smug smile on her face.
“Aw, jeez. Get a load of her,” Benny said. “You’d think she and Patrick never did it before.”
“We never did it as a married couple before. It’s different. Better.” She wiggled her eyebrows.
“Where’s Patrick?” Chris asked.
“Taking a shower,” Sofia said. “I’d have gotten in there with him, but there are bear claws.”
They all ate and laughed and talked about the wedding—the highlights, the relatives who had embarrassed themselves, the plans they’d all made with the guests who were still in town.
The food was good, and everyone was happy and relaxed. Martina thought about how it felt to have everyone she loved together in the same room—including Chris. He hadn’t fit in with her family before—not really. But he was fitting in now. Something had changed. Something that mattered. He was talking and laughing with everyone as though he belonged here.
Which, to her, he did.
When breakfast was over, Patrick and Sofia went into their room to get ready for their honeymoon trip to Paris—which Patrick’s parents were paying for, and which Martina tried not to be bitterly jealous about. Chris and Benny sat on the sofa talking about something, while TJ took the baby into a back bedroom to change him.
Martina and Bianca cleared the table and started cleaning up in the kitchen, putting away food and stacking dishes in the dishwasher.
“So, what happened?” Bianca asked in a low tone so the others wouldn’t hear. “I thought you two had a fight yesterday in the vineyard. Then you left … and this morning you show up looking like you’ve had the best sex of your life.”
“I did have the best sex of my life.”
“Well, congratulations. But how did you get from yelling in the grapevines to this? And where do things stand now?” Bianca stood with one fist on her hip, a dish towel clasped in one hand.
Martina couldn’t keep the goofy smile off her face. “Now … we’re in love. And he wants to want to have kids.”
“He wants to want them.”
“Yes. All of this is about his past, Bianca. And he’s working with a therapist. For me. Because he wants to be healthy for me.”
“Well, that’s really something.” Bianca looked impressed. “I mean … you know it’s no guarantee though, right? Even with a therapist, he might not resolve everything. It’s not that easy. It’s not—”
“I know, Bianca. Don’t ruin this for me. I’m happy. And we’re not rushing things. It’ll take as long as it takes.”
“Then I’m happy for you.” Bianca reached out and pulled Martina into a tight hug.
“I’m happy for me, too.”
While Martina and Bianca talked about that, Chris talked to Benny about something else.
“I’ve been thinking about that app you suggested.”
“What app?” She looked as though she had no idea what he was talking about.
“The app to teach people marine biology. Remember? You pitched it to me at the restaurant?”
Benny let out a guffaw. “That was just a ploy to get you together with Martina. I thought you understood that.”
“I did. I do. But that doesn’t make it a bad idea.”
Her eyes widened. “Really?”
“Sure. We could design it for schoolkids. They could access free games that incorporate things like the names of sea creatures and facts about ocean ecology and climate change, like that. I’d need you for the details on that end of it.”
“Huh. A free app? But how would you pay for it? That’s—”
“Ads. In-app purchases. Upgrades. Leave that part to me. That’s kind of my thing.”
“But …”
“If you’re interested, we’ll talk.”
“Hell yes, I’m interested.”
“Good.” He grinned, pleased. “I’ll have my people call your people.”
She looked flustered. “I … But …”
“Benny, that last part was a joke.”
“Oh. Ha, ha. You don’t have people.”
“Of course I have people. But I’m assuming you don’t, so …”
“Asshole.” But she said it fondly, with a grin.
After Martina closed escrow on the Lodge Hill property, she and Chris celebrated with a glass of wine at Fermentations on Main Street.
“I’m so excited,” she told him. “I ca
n’t wait to start planning the renovations.”
He started to say something about helping, and she cut him off. “I don’t want you to help me pay for them.”
“I wasn’t going to say that.”
“You weren’t?”
“No.”
She took a sip of her wine—an excellent chardonnay—and put the glass back on the table. “Then what?”
“I was going to say we could do some of the work ourselves. You know, get in there with hammers and power tools …”
“Really? You’re kidding. You couldn’t even get your car door put back together.”
“It’s done. You haven’t been out to the garage lately, but … the door’s great. It’s perfect.”
“You’re kidding,” she said again.
“Nope.”
“So, you broke down and paid someone to do it, then?” Martina tried to sound nonjudgmental.
“No. I paid someone to show me how to do it, then I did it myself.” He grinned at her, and the grin—the sheer happiness behind it—made her smile, too. “I figure that’s fair game, right?”
“Sure. That’s fair game.”
“So, I can pay someone to teach me how to work on the house. That guy Noah, maybe …”
“I’m sure he’d be happy to.”
“I know you wanted to do it yourself, with nobody’s help. So if that’s stepping over a line …”
“Writing a check would be stepping over a line. Helping me hammer nails is something different. After all, it’s going to be our house someday, not just mine. At least, that’s what I’m hoping.”
“Me too.” Chris nodded, clearly pleased with himself.
“You’d really do that for me? I mean, put on some jeans and work boots and get out there with a hammer and all that?”
“I’d do that and more. I love you, Martina.”
“I love you, too.”
They kissed, and he tasted like a spicy, peppery cabernet sauvignon.
“I think this is going to work,” she said.
They both understood she wasn’t just talking about rebuilding a house. She was talking about building a life.
