by Jo Leigh
Damn, he wished he had her phone number.
Luca turned up, finally, to help him finish. He was two years older than Dom and they’d always had a good relationship. With half a stack of chairs left to put out, Dom said, “I got a question for you.”
“Shoot.”
“When I was a teenager, was I a dick?”
Luca laughed at him.
“I’m serious.” Dom returned Mrs. Brivio’s smile as she walked by with an antipasto tray. “I mean, yeah, I dated a lot of hot girls and hung out with the jocks sometimes, but—”
“Sometimes? You were always with those guys.” Luca frowned. “Why are you bringing this up?”
“Someone told me I’d said something that just didn’t sound like me. But clearly I have too high an opinion of myself.”
“Nah, some of the guys you hung with were dicks, but not you. Tony or I would’ve slapped you upside the head.”
“That’s what I thought, but...” Dom shrugged. “Where’s April?”
“Right there.” Luca nodded toward the entrance, his face lighting up, just like it did every time his girlfriend was around.
April had just walked in, and behind her was Sara. With her parents. No Ellie in sight.
Dom abandoned his post instantly, ignoring Luca’s, “Hey.”
A bottleneck just inside the doorway slowed everyone down.
“April,” he said, his eyes on Sara. “Luca’s over there.”
“What’s with all the hats? Luca didn’t say anything about wearing a hat. Oh, cute.” April motioned to a teenager with blond hair who, along with most of the women in the hall, had followed the annual tradition of wearing a spring hat. “Where is he?”
Eyes only for Sara, Dom gestured behind him.
“You’re going to have to be a little more specific,” April said, which made Sara smile.
Dom snapped to. “Sorry. He’s setting up chairs.” He moved closer to the group, then sort of led them to the side so they wouldn’t block the entrance. “I don’t think you’ve met Sara Moretti and her parents, have you, April?”
“No, I haven’t.” She faced the trio with one of her big smiles. Her thick auburn hair was pulled into a twist of some kind, and her dress was light green. She was a knockout, and she’d made Luca happier than he’d ever been.
“April Branagan, meet Gio and Rose Moretti and their daughter Sara.”
“I’m Luca’s girlfriend,” April said, nodding at them. “And after I check in with him, I’d love to chat if there’s time. I’m still getting to know my way around the neighborhood. Darn, I wish he’d told me about the hat thing. You do this every year?”
“Yes,” Gio said with a sigh. “Every year, and we go through the parade of hats fashion show for a week before. They say they want my opinion, but they never listen to me.”
“Don’t exaggerate, Gio,” Mrs. M said, dismissing him with a wave of her hand.
Sara grinned. “Evidently the competition gets fiercer as the years go by. It feels more like the Kentucky Derby than a church gathering.”
April laughed, but Dom only knew that because he heard her.
Sara looked beautiful in her white-and-pink sundress and her floppy brimmed hat.
Then April said she hoped to see everyone later and left to find Luca.
When Sara finally met his gaze, her eyes widened and she made sure he noticed her mother holding a covered platter.
Which he quickly took from her. The sucker was heavy. “I heard you guys were gallivanting all over Italy.”
“It was a wonderful trip,” Rose said at the exact same time her husband said, “It was exhausting.”
Sara laughed, then touched Dom’s elbow. “Why don’t we get this to the kitchen? I’m going to see if I can help out.”
“My mother should be here any minute,” Dom told her parents. “I know she’ll be anxious to hear all about your trip.”
“And your father?” Mrs. M asked. “How is he doing?”
“He’s doing great. He’ll be here, too.”
Sara hadn’t even waited for him and was moving fast in her high-heeled sandals.
“Hey, I was hoping to see you at the restaurant last night,” he said, after catching up to her. “Ellie didn’t seem too happy with me.”
“It’s not you. Trust me. You walk on water. She’s reasonably certain that I, however, am the devil incarnate, out to steal you from under her very nose.”
Dom laughed. “You’re kidding, right?”
Sara stared at him in surprise. “Come on,” she said. “You must know she has a crush on you.”
“Because she gives me free sodas?”
“Oh, please.” Sara studied his face long enough for him to get a little edgy. “For God’s sake, Dominic.”
“I’m twenty-eight. What is she, seventeen?”
“And you think that matters? Did you ever have a crush on a teacher?”
Biology. Sophomore year. Mrs. Walker. With legs that went on forever. “Point taken.”
“By the way, your eye looks good. It’s barely discolored. Doesn’t hurt, does it?”
“Only when no one kisses it.” He held back a laugh when her eyes rounded to the size of pizzas, and he leaned toward her.
“You’re insane,” she muttered, swatting at him and glancing around. “Get away from me.”
She got her wish when Mr. Albrogetti came through on his wheelchair. They parted in the small area between tables, giving Dom time to think about what she’d told him. He supposed on some level he knew Ellie was overly friendly, though most girls her age were. But Ellie being Sara’s sister—that wasn’t good.
“She’s going to be here in a little while.” Sara looked back over the growing crowd and didn’t seem anxious to meet his eyes again. “So, um, did you bring a date?”
He snorted. “Well, since the woman I wanted to bring blew me off, no, I don’t have one.”
Sara blinked at him. “Do you mean—” She bit her lip, and there was that shy streak again. “I thought you were teasing.”
Mrs. Martinelli and her brood of troublemakers—all under seventeen and looking like professional linebackers—were bearing down on them. Dom pulled Sara out of the path to the kitchen and closer to him. “I have a little crush on you, Sara Moretti,” he whispered in her ear. “Didn’t you get that?”
* * *
SARA STARED AT HIM, not sure what to think. If this was his guilt talking, she swore on all that was holy, she’d die a thousand deaths. But how would she know? Unless she asked him, which wasn’t something she thought she could do. Maybe.
They’d picked the worst possible spot to have their conversation. It was already packed with more people than code allowed. Just inside the kitchen, four different ovens, each of them ancient, were in use, the generous counters stacked with everything from baked hams to trays of cookies.
The platter was whisked away before they could blink, and the two of them were shooed out again, straight into the path of a woman Sara hadn’t seen in years.
“Sarafina Moretti,” the older woman said. She was dressed, like most of the women in the room, in her Easter finery.
“Mrs. Jacometti, how nice to see you.”
“I heard you were in town. Regina told me you had a big interview with her and that no-good husband of hers.”
Dom hid his grin, but Sara laughed. She’d known the sisters since she’d sold them Girl Scout cookies. They were always arguing and were both married to men who were so alike it was scary.
“Actually, I was hoping I could talk with you and Mr. Jacometti about when his family first arrived in the country.”
“What about my family, because whatever Regina said is completely wrong. She thinks she remembers, but she doesn’t. Lousy memory. You ask me
, she should get it checked, but will she listen? Never.”
“Well, I look forward to it. I’ll give you a call after the holiday?”
“Good. Yes. Happy Easter.”
When Sara turned back to Dom, he was looking at his mother, who was waving him over to her and Mr. Paladino’s table near the wall. “Dinner’s about to start,” she said. “Sara, you, too.” She pointed to the chairs opposite them. “Your parents are sitting here.”
Dom turned back to her and leaned in. She felt certain he was about to kiss her, but he stopped. Right along with her heart. Enough people had already seen them together. They barely had to do anything more than talk three seconds too long for rumors to start flying.
“Is that going to be a problem?” Dom asked, glancing at the table.
“Why?”
“Won’t Ellie be sitting with your parents?”
“Oh, crap.” Sara rubbed her temple. Ellie had been behaving perfectly when the family was together. She’d saved her snarky remarks for Sara.
Before she could think what to do next, her mother was behind her, literally pushing her toward the empty seats.
“Wait, what about Ellie?”
“She’s with her friends.”
Dom caught her eye and gave her a sympathetic look before he turned back to walk around the table, almost lost in the sea of bobbing feathers and fruit that bedecked Easter hats of every color.
Sara was practically shoved into her seat, the one directly across from Dom’s. Her mother sat opposite Theresa Paladino, and her father faced Joe with a weary nod as he settled himself in the plastic chair. The whole setup was eerily reminiscent of her adolescence, the era of braces and double-A bras and hiding behind her hair.
And the disaster that had come from her crush on Dom.
“You look wonderful, Rose,” Theresa said. “The trip to the old country has made you look ten years younger.”
“Nonsense. But you look terrific and, Joseph, you’d never know you had a moment’s trouble. What a blessing to be here with all our children.”
Joe nodded, and Sara couldn’t even pretend that her mother and Dom’s weren’t both looking as if they’d been planning this reunion since the moment they first met. She kept having to smile back at Theresa, who would wiggle her eyebrows, then bob her head toward Dom. It was like something out of a cartoon.
Her own mother was no better, bringing Dom into a conversation about Theresa’s hat, of all things.
“You must have helped her pick it out,” Rose said.
Sara hid her laugh behind a fake cough, unable to meet Dom’s eyes.
Rose elbowed her husband. “Doesn’t Dominic have good taste?”
“I’m sure he does,” Gio said. “Where’s the wine?”
“It’s too soon for the wine.”
“Not if you’re going to talk about hats.”
Theresa rolled her eyes, then caught Sara, who should have known better than to do anything but stare at her plate. “Sarafina, we’ve all missed you. So nice you came home after college. You know, Dom has also graduated. A bachelor’s degree and two master degrees. Tell her, Dom.”
“She knows, Ma.”
“But do her parents?”
“I’m positive her parents don’t care about my degrees.”
“What? Of course we do,” Rose said. “Tell him, Gio.”
“We care,” Gio said, having gotten his hands on a bottle of wine which he was busy uncorking.
“Well, look at that,” Dom said, standing up, shocking Sara, and everyone else who’d been eavesdropping, which must have been half the parish. “Tony and Catherine are sitting all by themselves. Sara, you haven’t met Catherine yet, right? She’s engaged to Tony. You’ll like her.”
Sara practically leaped up. “You’re right. I haven’t met her. I’ve been meaning to.” She scooted her chair in. “We’ll be back in a minute,” then she was walking as fast as she could, although not as quickly as Dom.
Once they were a safe distance away, Dom touched her arm. “You okay?” he asked. The way he looked at her was more concerned than annoyed. Which made her chest tighten. The last thing on earth she wanted was to remind him of the last time their moms had played matchmakers.
“I’m fine,” she said, keeping her voice light as a breeze. “I’m just hoping Father Michael makes his address soon.”
“Oh, he will. Unfortunately, it won’t stop them from talking. And plotting. God, they all need hobbies.”
Before they reached Tony and Catherine, who hadn’t even taken seats yet, raised voices coming from the kitchen had them turning their heads. Regina stormed out, grumbling about her crazy sister and their mother’s special recipe. They didn’t calm down until Father Michael stepped in and refereed.
Saddest thing of all was the evening had just begun.
10
BY THE TIME the longest meal he’d ever suffered through was over, Dom felt like going to the gym just so he could punch something. Sara had gone to the kitchen to offer her help cleaning up. Dom, who hoped he didn’t feel quite so full by the time he had to do any heavy lifting in the hall, had found Henry Randal, his old high school coach, talking to Mike Cho and Aiden Gallagher, both teammates back in the day.
“Did I just hear you mention retirement?” Dom asked, guessing Randal was in his early forties by now.
“That’s right. These damn kids today spend too much time playing with their cell phones instead of practicing or keeping in shape.”
Aiden laughed. “I don’t recall you having any problem kicking a few asses.”
“And you guys listened after that. Not these kids today, they don’t listen to nobody. Neither do their crybaby parents.”
Dom exchanged looks with Aiden and Mike. Many of those parents were in the hall at the moment. Not that Randal seemed to care because he wasn’t watching his tone or keeping his voice down. On top of that, Dom thought he noticed the coach slur the last two words, but then there’d been a hell of a lot of wine served.
Mike and Aiden steered the conversation to past victories and bad calls from stupid referees. Dom managed a laugh here and there, but he was distracted by his lookout for Sara, and he regretted joining the group. He wasn’t crazy about the coach’s language with so many kids nearby. Aiden and Mike seemed uncomfortable, too.
It didn’t help that even though all the windows were open, the number of people in the large hall made the place swelter, and he longed to take Sara for a walk to cool off. Then, if he was lucky, turn up the heat in a whole different way.
“Look out,” Mike said, staring past Dom’s left shoulder. “Here comes trouble.”
Dom turned to find Sara, hat off, her beautiful hair pinned up with just a few tendrils floating around her face and neck. She smiled, and he instantly felt better.
“Who’s that?” Coach asked.
“That’s Sara.” Dom motioned her over, belatedly realizing he should’ve used the excuse to escape. “You remember her from Loyola, right?” he said, stepping aside to include her in the group.
Coach gave her a look that was a little too intense. “You can’t be the one who wrote for the school paper?”
She tilted her head in that way she had, and he could tell she didn’t remember Coach Randal. Why would she?
“Yeah, that’s right,” Dom said. “We used to go to her family’s pizzeria after games sometimes. You know Moretti’s?”
“Right.” Coach nodded. “So you’re still slinging pizza?”
Dom blinked, not sure he liked the way Coach said that. “She’s helping out her folks while she completes her master’s thesis.”
“Oh?”
Sara just smiled gracefully and said, “Yes, I’m getting my masters in journalism.”
“Interesting.” Randal nodde
d. “So I hope you learned a good lesson, then.”
She frowned. “Meaning?”
So did Dom. “What are you talking about?”
“I probably did you a big favor,” Coach said, nodding and looking pleased with himself. “Principal Hayes thought I went too far, but I did what I had to do. And look how well everything turned out.” His gaze ran briefly down her body.
Sara stiffened. More confused than ever, and not liking the way Randal looked at her, Dom wasn’t about to let this shit ride. He needed to know what was going on, and right now.
He felt her hand on his arm. “Can I steal you away for a minute?” she asked, her voice tighter than it should have been.
Both Mike and Aiden seemed as weirded out as Dom, but Coach just looked smug. For a guy he’d respected since his first year at Loyola, Randal was acting like a real asshole.
“Sure.” Dom let Sara lead him away by the arm. But as soon as they were out of earshot, he stopped and she let go. “What was he talking about?”
“I thought it was you,” she said. “All these years. Oh, my God.”
“Thought what was me?”
“That horrible piece I wrote. I got taken off the paper. The principal couldn’t do anything about it. There’d been a complaint to the school board that I’d besmirched you and the athletics program, and everyone wanted me gone.”
“You thought I’d complained to the school board?”
“You had every reason to.”
“I would never have done that. I was mad, sure. But I only ever spoke about it to my teammates. And Coach.”
“Well, I suppose he had a right, as well.”
“That’s why you weren’t editor your senior year,” he said, mostly to himself, feeling his anger rise at the audacity of his supposed mentor. He’d never said a word to Dom about a complaint. But what had him truly steamed was the way he’d just treated Sara. Condescending bastard. He turned back, ready to tell his ex-coach exactly what he could do with his attitude.
“Dom, wait.”
“I’ll be right back.”
Sara grabbed his arm. “Please. It doesn’t matter.”
