by Jo Leigh
“I can’t,” he said, his arms losing their strength. He managed to flop down beside her without breaking any limbs, hers or his.
Together, they sounded like a couple of marathon runners at the 26th mile. Slowly, they came down from their high, finally able to hoard enough air to live another day.
“Holy cow,” she said, the grin he couldn’t see clear in her voice.
He had the strength to nod, but that was it.
“We probably should have turned down the covers first. I’m starting to get cold, and I don’t want to move.”
“Well, lucky for you, I’m a certified gent.” He ran his hand down her chest, resting it on her perfect breast.
She touched him back, brushing his nipple with the back of her hand. “Uh, I don’t think that’s going to do the trick,” she said.
“Right. Yes.” It was difficult, but he hoisted himself up so he could tug the linens down. She helped a little, lifting her exquisite bottom then raising her legs until he could cover her, goose bumps and all.
“I’ll be right back,” he said, hating that he had to leave the room, even for the short time it would take him to clean up. But he padded to the bathroom, and before he returned he slung a towel around his waist, hustled downstairs to grab two bottles of water out of the fridge, then hightailed it up the stairs.
He stopped at the bedroom door. It appeared that April had conked out, one hand tucked neatly below her chin. If he’d known, he wouldn’t have wasted time getting the water.
“Come on in. I’m not sleeping,” she said, although she hadn’t opened her eyes. “Despite the fact that you took forever coming back.”
“Pardon me for being nice and getting you a bottle of water.”
That made her open her eyes. “You’re amazing and wonderful, and don’t believe anything else you’ve ever heard.”
He grinned, handed her one bottle, put his on the floor then tossed the towel on the floor before climbing in next to her. As soon as she finished taking a huge swig, he rearranged them into a tidy package, her with her head nestled on his chest, him with his arms holding her tightly against him. “Okay?”
“Better than okay.”
“If you’re really wiped out, it’s all right. You can go to sleep.”
“Don’t want to yet. Actually, we should talk.”
“About...?” They’d already talked beforehand. If she was having regrets already...
April ran her hand over his chest and twined her fingers through his chest hair. It felt so good he relaxed again.
“Please don’t think I’m complaining, because I’m not. But the types of things you’ve had me do, like carrying paint cans that first day, isn’t worth a day’s rent. Now that I know what it can cost to live in this city, my ‘help’ isn’t even worth fifteen minutes of rent. So, I’m happy to help you do things around the place, but that’s all on the house, okay? What I would like is if you had some real projects I could help you with. I think you know by now I really am quite strong and capable.”
She looked at him, her brow furrowed just enough to let him know she was serious. He understood where she was coming from, but he didn’t like the timing.
As if she could read his mind, she said, “I know. This is something we should’ve discussed earlier but we didn’t, and I just have to make sure we’re clear.”
“Fine,” he said. “We’re going to start with the drywall in a few days. You can work with me and Charlie. Good enough?”
She opened her mouth, but instead of an answer, she yawned, which caused him to yawn back.
“Good enough,” she said.
Luca rubbed her arm and kissed the top of her head, breathing in the sweet smell that was April. “Now, how about we both get a good night’s sleep.”
She nodded as she nuzzled his shoulder and whispered, “Tonight was perfect.”
He couldn’t have agreed more.
13
“WELCOME TO WE CONNECT.”
April stopped at the entrance to the theater hosting the Mentor Session of Women Entrepreneurs of New York Tuesday evening and accepted the packet that the volunteer greeter handed her.
“Find a seat anywhere,” the woman said. She was a perky sort with short spiked hair and a bolo tie. “I’m Shannon Weeks. You’ll find your name tag in your packet. Fill it out like mine—” she pointed to her name, and her business, SuburbanWest, Inc. underneath “—then just network away. Feel free to hand out business cards.”
“Thank you, Shannon,” April said and entered the room.
The session was free, one of many mentor events where newbies like herself could listen to established business owners, successful women who had started with little more than stubborn determination.
There were at least seventy-five women in the banquet room, running the gamut of ages, all dressed, like her, in casual business attire, most carrying briefcases, also like her, probably containing business plans, biographies, referrals. Basically everything that she could think of that might convince a mentor she would be a perfect mentee.
Everything was set up for networking, and thank goodness April wasn’t shy. She went to one of the round tables closest to the podium and selected a seat, and filled out the name tag with her name and As You Wish Concierge Services underneath. When she looked up, a stylish woman who looked to be in her early thirties was putting her briefcase on the chair next to hers.
“I’m April,” she said, holding out her hand. “I’m guessing you’re involved in the fashion industry?”
The woman laughed as they shook hands. “What gave me away?”
“That fantastic dress.” It was a formfitting black sheath underneath a bold floral open kimono cardigan. “It’s stunning. Is it your design?”
“Yes, it is. Thank you. I’m Patty Reyes,” she said. “It’s my third mentoring event.”
“My first. I’ve only been in New York a week.”
Patty smiled. “It’s really easy to meet people here. This is such a great organization. I already have a mentor. She’s a stylist’s assistant at The Today Show. What are you into?”
April gave her short pitch, and when Patty’s eyes lit up, she felt herself relax, at least a little bit.
“I know people who’d sign up for that in a heartbeat.”
“Here,” April said, pulling a few of her business cards out of her purse. “Feel free to spread them around.”
“That pitch of yours is excellent. Just keep doing that. Introducing yourself. Doesn’t matter what people’s name tags say. We can all help each other. In fact, be sure and look for the blue name tags. Those are mentors willing to help. I’ll meet you back here before the talk begins and we’ll compare notes. How does that sound?”
“Perfect,” she said. “Absolutely perfect.”
* * *
LUCA WALKED INTO his parents’ house while checking his messages. April had just arrived at the Women Entrepreneurs meeting, hoping to make connections and widen her network. All fired up, she was sending him texts every few minutes.
Just met a woman who started her own food truck. She owns five trucks now, and she’s a mentor for newbies!
He typed back:
Outstanding! She’ll be blown away by you!
“What are you so happy about?”
He looked up to find his brother standing near the dining room table. “What, I can’t smile without your permission? Ma didn’t tell me you were coming tonight.”
“I’m not staying for dinner. Catherine’s meeting me in an hour. I just wanted to tell you guys something. Come into the kitchen. I want to tell everyone at the same time.”
Luca stopped in front of Tony. “An announcement, huh?”
“Not like that,” Tony said. “Not yet, anyway.”
They s
tepped inside the large kitchen. Nothing felt more like home than this spot, with the familiar smells coming from the oven.
“Look, Mom, it’s Luca. He hasn’t run away.”
Luca elbowed his brother in the ribs, then he kissed his mother on the cheek.
“So, you’ve decided you’re still part of the family?” she said.
“Come on. It hasn’t been that long. Besides, I knew it was lasagna night, and I couldn’t stand having another take-out dinner.”
“I left ziti at the office, but Gina said you never came by.”
“I heard. That broke my heart. I hope there’ll be some leftovers for me to take home tonight.”
She smoothed back her salt-and-pepper hair and gave him her Mona Lisa smile, the one that said she’d always have the upper hand.
“Where’s Pop?”
“In the basement. Tony,” she said. “Go tell him to get up here. He can play with his radio later.”
Luca peeked inside the oven to find not only the lasagna, but also an entire pan of her stuffed cabbage. One of his favorite meals. “Ma, you made the Cavolo Ripieno. No wonder I’ll never love anyone as much as you.”
She waved her spoon at him. “Such nonsense,” she said, clearly pleased. “Go help with the table. Dom’s coming, too.”
“Of course he is, that pig. I have first dibs on the leftovers, right?”
“It’s time you started making your own meals. What am I? A chef? I have better things to do.”
“Kind of hard when I don’t have a stove yet.”
“So, maybe you’ll come on Sunday and meet Marie Albrogadi. I’m teaching her how to cook. God knows her mother never could make anything except those terrible meatballs.”
Luca groaned. Here she went, trying to fix him up again.
“Mom, leave him alone,” Tony said. “He just came by to eat and take home some food.”
Theresa turned around to Tony. “And has your Catherine asked me even once what your favorite foods are?”
“Stop right there. Dad’s coming, and I have something to tell you. And no, I’m not engaged.”
“What’s the matter?” his father said, closing the basement door behind him. “You love that girl. She loves you. Neither one of you is getting any younger.”
“Hey, Pop,” Luca said, and his dad clapped him on the back.
The front door opened and slammed shut. Had to be Dom.
“Okay, everyone listen up,” Tony began. “Wait. Where’s Nonna?”
“Resting. Go ahead and tell us your big announcement.”
Just as Dom joined them, Tony said, “We’re finishing up Catherine’s house and she wants to have all of you over for a celebratory dinner on Saturday.”
“But what—”
“Mom, let me finish. She’s not trying to take over the family dinners. But she wants to do the cooking,” Tony said. Luca hid a smile when he saw his mom’s face. “See, this is why I wanted to come talk to you in person.” Tony met her glare for glare. “She’s been working really hard to impress you, and I want you all to be nice, okay?”
“When are we not nice?” his father said.
Theresa looked hurt. “I wouldn’t say a word, but I don’t understand why she hasn’t asked me about your favorite meals. I could help teach her.”
“That’s the whole point,” Tony said. “She wants to show you that she’s paid attention. Okay? Just, please. It’s important to me.”
“I’m in,” Dom said. “Anyone who cooks for me is A-okay in my book.”
Luca shook his head as he turned to his younger brother, who looked as if he’d just stepped out of GQ magazine. His expensive suit had been tailored. Ten-to-one odds he had a date after dinner. Someone uptown. “You have a whole stable of women making you meals and giving you free donuts and God knows what else. And just so you know, tonight I get all the leftovers, capisci?”
“The hell you will. I’ve got to keep up my strength with all the work I’m doing for the company.”
“Oh, like what? Combing your hair five times a day? Flirting all over town?”
“Shut up.”
“All of you,” their mom said, “out of my kitchen. Dinner is in twenty minutes. Get the table ready. Tony, did you open the wine?”
“Right when I got here,” he said and led his brothers into the dining room while their father went to the old stereo in the living room where he kept his collection of LPs. A moment later Dean Martin was singing something sentimental about Italy.
“I’ll be right there,” Luca said, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket. It was April, of course. Still excited if the exclamation marks were anything to go by.
OMG! Elena, the woman with the food trucks, has agreed to be my mentor! And she’s going to introduce me to some of the microlenders that are here tonight. This is the best thing in the whole world!
“Hey,” Dom said. “Aren’t you the one who’s always telling me to put my phone away?”
Ignoring him, Luca smiled at the text.
Tony looked at him. “You’re in a good mood. I guess that date paid off.”
“Oh, right,” Dom said. “You gonna bring that hottie you’ve been seeing to meet the family?”
“What are you talking about?” Luca asked.
“What? You didn’t think Charlie or Scott would tell us about her?”
Luca shook his head. How could he have forgotten? Of course none of those guys would keep their goddamn mouths shut.
“Hey, I didn’t hear anything.” Tony looked at Luca. “Are you talking about the woman from Columbia?”
“Her name’s April,” Dom said, butting in before sitting down at the other side of the long table.
Luca took a deep breath. This wasn’t a bad thing, Dom mentioning April. Maybe his mother and grandmother would quit trying to find him a wife. “Yes,” he said. “I’m seeing a woman named April.”
“Wait a minute.” Their mom had been in the kitchen but she’d suddenly materialized and was all ears. “This is someone serious?”
“Not sure yet. I like her a lot, though.”
“But you didn’t bring her to dinner?”
“She’s working tonight. I’ll ask her to come with me to Catherine’s on Saturday.”
“That’s some fast maneuvering,” Tony said in a low voice after their mom started back to the kitchen. “You haven’t even been out of the house two weeks.”
“Look who’s talking. You were crazy about Catherine right off the bat.”
Tony grinned. “True. Well, good. Can’t wait to meet her.”
“She might say no, so don’t get too excited.”
Dom moved over to the table they used to set out the dessert and wine. “I just hope for your sake April’s Italian,” he murmured so only Luca could hear.
“What about Marie Albrogadi?” Theresa asked, coming back into the dining room.
“Her mother makes terrible meatballs,” Luca said. “Marie probably does, too.”
Everyone laughed, even his mom.
“And why isn’t the table set?” she asked.
“Got it,” Luca said, going for the plates.
Tony headed for the silver.
Dom poured himself a glass of wine.
Their mother had turned to go back to the kitchen, but first she looked at Luca again. “April? I don’t recall there being a Saint April.”
Luca closed his eyes. “I’m not marrying her, Ma. Okay? She’s a nice girl from St. Louis and she doesn’t know a lot of people in New York.”
His mother shook her head as she walked back to the stove. “So you couldn’t find an Italian stranger?”
14
IT WAS JUST past 6:00 p.m. when April escaped the overcrowded subway. The evening was sett
ling in, and she couldn’t wait to get back to the apartment. Maybe Luca would be there? She’d gotten home so late last night that he’d already been asleep, and tempting as it was, she hadn’t had the heart to wake him.
There were enough pedestrians to make walking the two blocks to Luca’s an adventure, so she moved in closer to the shops. Man, she loved this street. Actually, she was crazy about the whole neighborhood, and she hated the idea that she couldn’t afford to live anywhere near there.
Instead of dwelling on it, she focused on the wares in the windows as she passed. Electronics didn’t thrill her so much, and she didn’t need any suitcases. But there was a store that specialized in leather handbags and featured an Italian leather, dark blue folio for four hundred dollars that was exactly her taste. Too rich for her blood, but last week when she’d stopped to drool over it, she’d met Mrs. Brivio who owned the resale shop next door. It had quickly become April’s favorite place to browse. To her delight, Mrs. Brivio happened to be standing at the entrance.
“Hello, April.”
“Good evening,” she said, so glad they’d gotten to know each other a little. “How are you today?”
The woman shrugged her shawl-covered shoulders. “I’m cold and it’s not even winter. Why do I keep living in this city?”
“Because it’s magical?”
“You’re new here. Give it a few years.”
“I would love to. Any chance someone suddenly decided to rent out their apartment?”
Mrs. B. laughed. “You mean since you asked two days ago?” she said, just as a woman April hadn’t seen before joined them. “Val, have you heard of any places for rent right now?”
“Around here?” Val was closer to April’s age and absolutely striking. Her long dark hair was pulled back into a French braid, and she wore a beautiful rust-colored midi skirt topped with a matching fitted jacket. “Not likely.” She gave April a sympathetic smile. “I know of a few co-ops for sale.”
“I can only imagine how much those cost,” April said.
“Outsiders have been willing to pay outrageous prices for them, so I really can’t blame the young people who inherit and sell. They couldn’t get enough rent money to justify holding on to them.”
