“Anthony said there’s a fundraiser for the hospital that includes a poker tournament, and you’re playing in it. Is that true?”
“Oh, that.” Lindsay waves her hand. “Giovanni signed me up for it a while back, but I don’t think I’m still playing in it.”
Natalie seems mystified. “Why would he do that? You haven’t played poker in years.”
Lindsay takes a deep breath and realizes it’s time to finally tell her sister the truth. She only hopes it doesn’t upset her too much. “To be honest, that’s not entirely true.”
“What do you mean?”
“Let’s go talk about this in the office.”
Natalie’s brows go up, but she nods, and Lindsay follows her into the bakery’s back office.
“What’s going on?” her sister asks, closing the door. “I have a feeling I’m not going to like this.”
It’s now or never.
“I didn’t know how to tell you, but I’ve sort of started playing cards. In Seattle last year, and then in Berlin too.”
“What?” Natalie stares at her. “You’ve been playing poker?”
“I supported myself with it in Berlin. It’s crazy, but I made twenty thousand in only a couple of months playing cash games.” Lindsay smiles helplessly. “It was unbelievable.”
Natalie looks pale. “But where is all that money? What happened to it?”
“Somebody stole it. Remember I was robbed?”
“All of it was stolen?”
Lindsay nods. “Pretty much.” And then she tells Natalie the rest of it, how Giovanni stepped in, and about their initial arrangement.
“My God.” Natalie sits down in one of the office chairs. “I always knew there was more to that story. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’m sorry,” Lindsay says quietly. “I know I should have told you everything. I never mentioned I was playing cards last year because I didn’t want to worry you while you were pregnant, and then things just snowballed from there.”
Natalie nods slowly, but Lindsay can see her sister is upset. She still looks pale.
Lindsay pulls up the other office chair and sits down, leaning forward. “I’m not like dad. I don’t blow my winnings. Believe it or not, I run a tight ship.”
“It’s a slippery slope though,” Natalie points out.
“Not for me.” Lindsay takes a deep breath. “When I first started going to some of the local poker rooms, I didn’t even play. I just watched the action. And you know what it felt like?”
Her sister shakes her head, her expression wary.
“Like home.”
Natalie blinks.
“I felt so comfortable. I spent most of my childhood around card games.” Lindsay licks her lips. “That’s one way I am like Dad. There’s something about it that calls to me. I enjoy testing myself.”
“I have to admit you always were drawn to it.” Natalie takes a deep breath. “I shouldn’t be surprised you’re good at it. You were a good card player, even as a kid.”
“I still have a lot to learn. I don’t know if I could ever be on a world-class level like Dad was or anything.” She reaches for her sister’s hand. “Please don’t be angry with me. I hated not telling you.”
“I would have tried to talk you out of it. You know that, right?”
“I know, and I think that’s the other reason I didn’t tell you.” Lindsay gives her a wry grin.
“Twenty thousand, huh?” Natalie considers this for a long moment. Finally, a smile tugs on her mouth. “Who were you playing against? A bunch of fish?”
“No.” Lindsay chuckles and pretends to act offended. “All right, I admit occasionally, but plenty of real card players too.” She tells her more about the poker scene in Berlin. “I haven’t played cards since I’ve been back, but I think I might check out some of the local games soon. Are you going to be okay with that?”
“As long as I know you have a handle on it.”
“I do. Absolutely.”
Natalie leans back in her chair and seems to reflect on all this. “Maybe you should play in that hospital tournament. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think it might be kind of fun to watch you play poker.”
Teaching the origami class the second time turns out to be just as much fun as the first. The children are enthusiastic, and Lindsay brings a wide mixture of samples to work from. She chats with a few of the nurses who were there last time as she walks around helping all the kids.
The problem is every time the door opens, her heart stops—and she’s not sure whether she’s relieved or disappointed when it isn’t Giovanni.
After the class is over and the kids have all left, she stays to clean up the scrap paper and to pack all her stuff away. She brought plenty of colorful paper and some of her favorite origami books. When she’s nearly finished, the door opens again.
The air in the room changes.
Her pulse jumps and when she turns, Giovanni’s standing there wearing light blue scrubs, breathing fast like he ran to get here.
She doesn’t say a word, though she can't stop herself from drinking him in.
“I’m glad I caught you,” he says, still catching his breath as he walks toward her. When he moves closer, she sees a strain on his face, the lines around his mouth have grown deeper. His eyes appear to be taking her in too, and when he’s directly in front of her, they’re both silent, gazing at each other.
A long moment passes.
She knows exactly how to act, how to put the right expression on her face, the exact pitch her voice should be. She’s dealt with enough ex-lovers over the years to have perfected her technique.
“A surgery day, I see.” She motions at his scrubs.
“Yes.” He nods, still keeping his eyes on hers. “How was the class? I’m sorry I missed it. I was hoping to get here sooner.”
“It was great. A lot of fun.” Their eyes are still on each other, but she finally looks away. “I’m just gathering all my supplies. I need to head out since I have homework.” She turns and shoves the last two origami books into her backpack.
“That’s right. How is school going?”
“It’s good.” She zips up her bag. “I really should get going.”
He steps in closer and she freezes. She can smell him—clean sweat with a hint of adrenaline. It’s so familiar that, for a second, it overwhelms her. Her breath catches, and she’s surprised by the rush of desire she still feels for him.
He leans toward her, but he’s only reaching for her backpack. “Come on, I’ll walk you to your car.”
They take the elevator to the parking lot. “I got some of my stolen money back from Dagmar,” she tells him on the way down.
“Really? That’s great. How much did you get back?”
“About eight grand.” She glances at him. “I plan to start looking for an apartment soon, and then I’ll be able to get my furniture out of your house. I can move it sooner if you need me to.”
He blinks, looking like he’s forgotten she even has furniture there. “Sure, there’s no rush.”
When they arrive at her red Mini, they both stop by the driver’s side door. She takes her backpack from him and gets her keys out. “I’d better get going.”
“How’s your finger?”
She glances down at her left hand. “It’s okay. Kind of itchy, actually.”
“May I see it?” He holds his hand out.
Lindsay hesitates, but then gives him her left hand. He takes it and lifts it closer. Her wound is a fresh pink scar at this point since he pulled the stitches out for her a while ago. His touch soothes her, even now.
As he gently examines her finger, she examines him. Her eyes roam over his handsome features, that sensual mouth, the little dip in each corner she’s always enjoyed licking so much.
A wave of intense longing comes over her. She misses stroking his jaw and the feel of those soft golden curls. The pleasure of touching him whenever she wanted to.
“It looks fine,�
� he tells her, still inspecting her finger. “I don’t see anything to worry about. How’s the sensation?”
“It doesn’t hurt, but it’s numb and tingles sometimes.”
He nods. “That’s normal. It takes a while for nerves to regrow. This time next year you’ll have a better idea of where you’re at.”
“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you. Why did you tell Anthony I was playing in that poker tournament for the hospital?”
Giovanni looks at her with surprise. “Because I assumed you were. I’ve already written a check to stake you.”
“You have?”
“I wrote it right after I asked you about it. Before you . . . moved out.”
Lindsay considers this.
“You should play in it,” he says encouragingly. “It’s for a good cause.”
“Let me think about it.”
He looks down at her hand still in his, and his voice grows quiet. “I’ve decided to take your advice about talking to someone.” He runs his thumb gently across her knuckles. “A counselor.”
“I’m glad to hear that. I’m glad you told Anthony about everything too.”
“It felt strange to talk about it, but I’ve learned secrets can destroy you.”
She nods, but doesn’t say anything, her gaze dropping to where his hand is still absentmindedly caressing hers.
Neither of them speaks for a long moment.
“I should go now.” She tries to pull her hand back, but he still holds it.
“How are you?” he asks quietly. It’s not a casual question. She knows him better than that.
Lindsay licks her lips. She wants to tell him everything is wonderful, just perfect, but he’s too perceptive, and he'll see right through it. “It’s been harder than I expected,” she admits. “But I’m doing okay.” She tries to smile.
“It doesn’t have to be this way.”
“Unfortunately, it does.”
“No.” The blue in his eyes goes darker, so they’re almost violet. It looks like he’s struggling to say something, and when he finally does his voice is hoarse. “Just come back to me. Please come back home.”
His gaze remains intense on hers.
Lindsay’s throat closes up. She knows how much it’s costing him to be this vulnerable. “I can’t,” she finally manages to say.
He jerks his head to the side, looking out at the parking garage.
“It’s better for both of us. You’ll thank me someday.”
“No.” His eyes flash back to her. “You’re wrong about that.” His voice is stronger now, certain. “I’ll never thank you for this.”
She pulls her hand away, and he releases it readily this time. “I know what I’m doing. And you will thank me.”
“No, and we both know this isn’t about your infertility or about whether or not you look like Olivia. It’s about your fear. That’s why you’re running, and that’s why you always run.” Giovanni snorts. “Remember? I’ve been there myself.”
A strange panic grips her, squeezing the air from her lungs. “I want a divorce,” she says, shaking all over. She feels him go still. “You said we’d divorce once our arrangement was no longer necessary.”
The emotion on his face is so raw it slices through her. Sharp and painful. I stayed too long.
His expression hardens. “I’ve said over and over again how you’re nothing like Olivia.”
She clutches her car keys, ready to flee.
“But it turns out there’s one way you’re exactly like her.”
Giovanni doesn’t wait or watch Lindsay drive off. Instead, he turns and walks back toward the hospital, heading straight to his office. He’s waylaid by one of the nurses, who updates him on his patient from this morning’s surgery. His chest is tight, but he manages to bring it under control, manages to put everything back in its proper place.
Hiding a broken heart from the world.
It won’t be like last time, where he went off the rails and nearly wrecked his life.
I’m not a kid this time.
Seeing Lindsay again today was a shock. His feelings for her haven’t diminished one bit. He’s not used to feeling helpless. Begging her to come back. Hell, he’d have fallen to his knees if he thought it would do any good.
I’ve survived this before and I’ll survive it again.
Ironically, Lindsay’s taught him how to not fear the very thing she’s running from herself. If only she’d learn it too.
He saw the panic in her eyes, and knows she isn’t there, maybe never will be. For all he knows, she’ll be like that song for years to come—collecting hearts, but always afraid to offer up her own.
He spent so many years hating Olivia, hating her for all the lies, for the power she had over him. He hated her for ruining his life once, and then more recently he hated her for ruining it again. But that was a waste of time.
I’m done with that.
Lindsay owns his heart. And despite everything, he knows he could never hate her. It saddens him to think of all the years they could have had together. Incredible years. Because he already knows one thing with absolute certainty.
He’ll love her for the rest of his life.
“You sure are pretty.”
“Thank you.” Lindsay tries to act interested in the guy sitting across from her at the coffee shop.
Since seeing Giovanni last week, she’s gone on what you might call a dating binge. A bender even. This is the eighth guy she’s gone out with in seven days. After that meeting at the hospital, she decided it was time to move on, take back her life, and so she’s determined to get back in the saddle whether she likes the horses or not.
The current guy is named Dustin. He’s tall and lanky with a bleached blond goatee and plenty of ink. She met him while she was waiting in the return line at the university bookstore. He’s a photography major with high hopes of transferring to film school next year. As a result, he took her to see an art house movie that was so absurdly pretentious with its flashing lights and crazed cinematography that it nearly burned her eyeballs.
“For an older woman,” Dustin continues. “How old are you anyway?”
“What?” Lindsay blinks then stares at him in amazement. “How old are you?”
“Nineteen.”
Her eyes widen, and she nearly chokes on her dirty chai latte. Upon closer inspection, she realizes he does look awfully young. What in the hell was I thinking?
In an effort to block out all thoughts of Giovanni, she’s been saying yes to every guy who made an effort. She hasn’t paid much attention to any of them though, since it’s more about quantity than quality.
“But I think you’re hot,” he says with a grin. “That’s why I asked you out.”
“How nice,” she murmurs in a dry tone. My God, when did I sink to this level?
“Really hot.”
“Look, I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to cut this evening short,” she announces, reaching around for her purse. “I have a test to study for tomorrow.”
“Oh, yeah? That’s too bad.” Dustin strokes his sprinkling of chin hairs and leans forward in his chair. “Say, listen. Can I ask you a favor before you go?” His baby blue eyes are beseeching on hers. “Do you think maybe you could buy me some beer?”
Despite the dating binge—or maybe because of it—Lindsay’s sexual mojo has taken a nosedive. Not that she’s slept with any of these guys, or even kissed them. She’d never admit it to anyone, but the thought of another man touching her is repellent.
In the past, she would have already slept with someone new, would have already forgotten the last guy’s name even. She knows it’s going to be difficult finding someone who can match Giovanni’s intensity. Plus, all these guys seem like boys. Of course, it doesn’t help that the last one actually was a boy.
So it’s a little different this time. So what? Eventually, I’ll find my groove again.
In the meantime, during the long nights, she’s back to hanging out with he
r temperamental old friend—her trusty vibrator.
Geez lady, not you again.
Yes, I’m back, so just deal with it.
You’re killing me here.
Luckily, between school, the commission for those two masks, and hitting some of the local poker rooms, it’s plenty to keep her occupied. She barely thinks about Giovanni, or so she tells everybody who asks.
The truth though is she thinks about him a lot. Never one to linger or get too sentimental, she finds these memories of him creeping up on her like some kind of ninja attack. Out of the blue, she’ll suddenly remember the way he smells or tastes. The way he loves to kiss and, of course, that magnificent cock.
Mostly, she remembers the way he looked at her, and how she knew he was seeing her.
In her darker moments, she stares at the photos of him on her phone. The early ones from Berlin and then the ones she took of them more recently at the house. Giovanni with his toolbox and that delighted grin, or working outside in those soft jeans.
It’s only in her blackest moments that she imagines the children they might have had together. In a different world, one where she could actually give him those beautiful babies.
But that smartens her up, a splash of ice water bringing her back to reality. She wants him to have those babies someday, even if it’s not with her.
Plus, there’s the whole Olivia mess. Did he really only fall in love with me because I look like that demented bitch? Most of her says no, but there’s a small part that still can’t dismiss it.
A week later, while Lindsay’s working in her studio, she gets a phone call from an unknown number. She ignores it at first, but when it rings three times in a row she finally answers.
“Lindsay, I am so glad to find you!” a familiar woman’s voice says with a thick Italian accent.
She only knows one woman with a thick Italian accent.
“Francesca?”
“Yes, of course. We must discuss this terrible situation with you and my Giovanni.”
Lindsay is quiet, trying to make sense of this phone call. “I’m sorry, but how did you get this number?”
“It does not matter. What matters is you are wanting a divorce from my son. Is this true?”
Some Like It Hotter (Sweet Life in Seattle #3) Page 32
