“I see.” He turns to the doctor. “This is my son, Anthony.”
“Dr. Weber,” he says, putting out his hand.
Anthony shakes it and then turns his attention back to his dad. “Are you all right?” He notices the bandage on his father’s left hand. “What happened?”
“It’s been nice to meet you, Dr. Novello,” Dr. Weber says. “I’ll go ahead and let you speak with your son, and I’ll see that the discharge papers are put through right away, so you don’t have to worry about missing your flight.”
“Thank you,” Anthony’s father tells him.
When the two of them are alone, Anthony asks him again what happened.
“I was taking a shuttle back to the hotel from the conference I was attending, and we were struck by a police car.”
“And you cut your hand?”
“One of the other people in the van had an umbrella and the tip punctured my skin.”
“Did they give you a tetanus shot?”
His father frowns and stands up. “Of course they gave me a tetanus shot. I don’t know why your mother called you. She shouldn’t have bothered.”
Anthony feels the same old sense of disapproval emanating from his father. And it still brings out the worst in him. “Doesn’t change the fact she did call. Are you all right otherwise?”
“I’m fine. They weren’t driving fast, and I was wearing a seatbelt.”
Anthony considers the situation. “So a police car hit your shuttle van? That’s kind of weird.”
“Yes, it is.” His father gathers his coat and computer bag. “But weirder things have happened, haven’t they?”
Like his son dropping out of medical school to become an astronomer.
Anthony recognizes his disparaging tone and tries not to roll his eyes. It’s amazing how his father has the ability to turn everything into the same old problem.
“Since you’re here, you can give me a ride to my hotel,” his father tells him. “I have a flight back to Los Angeles tonight.”
“Sure.” He watches his dad slip into his coat, struggling a bit with the bandage. “Can I help? I could carry your bag for you.”
“I’m fine.”
“What time is your flight?”
“Ten.”
Anthony glances at the clock on the wall. It’s already almost seven-thirty. “You’re cutting it close. I can give you a ride to the airport.”
“That won’t be necessary. I already have another shuttle lined up.”
Anthony doesn’t reply. His dad is still the same. Clearly, nothing has changed between them.
They head out toward the lobby, with his father stopping at one of the nurses’ stations to thank everyone first. They all talk enthusiastically with his dad, occasionally glancing at Anthony, who just stands there with his hands in his coat pockets. His father doesn’t bother to introduce him.
Finally, they head out to where Anthony is parked. They’re almost to his car when someone calls out. “Dr. Novello?”
Both Anthony and his father turn at the same time. “Yes?” his dad says, but Anthony recognizes the guy. It’s one of his graduate students from last year.
“I thought that was you,” the guy says, walking up to Anthony. “How have you been?”
“I’ve been good—it’s Chris, right?”
He nods. “I just heard recently that you were nominated for the Smyth Medal. That’s pretty sweet.”
“Yeah.” Anthony chuckles self-effacingly. “I heard that same rumor.”
“Congratulations—that’s really great, Dr. Novello, I hope you win it. Seriously.”
“Thanks, I appreciate that.”
Anthony explains that he’s in a rush and they say their goodbyes. He can feel his father bristling next to him once they’re in the car.
“Doctor Novello? Is that really what you call yourself?” his father asks.
In truth, Anthony rarely asks anyone to call him that. He prefers Professor or just plain Mister, but some people seem to prefer calling him by the Doctor title. Of course, he doesn’t tell his dad this. Instead, he shrugs. “I did earn a Ph.D. after all.”
His father scoffs. “In astronomy.” He says astronomy with as much derision as if he were saying astrology.
“So, what hotel are you staying at?” Anthony asks as he starts up the car.
But, of course, his father won’t let it go. “A hobby—that’s all it should have been for you. People like us don’t ignore our calling.”
People like us.
If Anthony never heard that phrase again in his life, he’d die a happy man.
“We don’t ignore our talents and let some silly hobby become our life’s work.”
“Apparently we do,” Anthony murmurs as he pulls out of the parking lot, heading toward downtown Seattle.
“I know you made some mistakes when you were younger and that’s how you got off-track. I probably should have intervened more like I did with your brother.”
“What is your hotel?” Anthony asks. “I need to know where I’m going.”
“It’s not too late though,” his father continues. “I’ve been thinking about this recently. It wouldn’t take much to get you back on track, Antonio. We can still fix this.”
“What do you mean?” Anthony looks over his shoulder and changes lanes so he can get on the Interstate. “Fix what?”
“You’re still a young man. You could still practice medicine. Neurosurgery wouldn’t be an option anymore, of course, but there are other routes you can take. I’d have to pull a few strings, but I’m certain I could get you in at UCLA’s school of medicine, or even out here, if you prefer. I know you like to be close to Serena.”
“What?” Anthony turns to stare at his father. “Is this a joke?”
“No, it isn’t,” his father snaps. “I’m trying to help you stop squandering your life.”
“I’m not squandering anything. This is what I’ve chosen.”
“But it’s meaningless. People like us don’t throw our lives away. We help others. It’s our duty, and I thought I raised you better. I thought I raised you to understand your duty.”
“Apparently, you raised me to be a selfish asshole,” Anthony mutters.
“Goddammit! Do you have to make a joke out of everything?”
Anthony takes a breath and tries to rein in his temper. “I’m not going back to medical school, all right? You can forget it. After all these years? That’s a crazy idea.”
His father doesn’t reply, but Anthony can feel the waves of disapproval and anger rolling off him.
“And maybe you haven’t noticed, but I’m not doing too badly with my little hobby. I was just nominated for a Smyth Medal in Astrophysics.”
“And what is that?” his father brushes him off. “Some award? Is that all you care about? You should be helping people and not just thinking about yourself.”
“Jesus!” Anthony hits his palms against the steering wheel. “It’s not like I’m a bank robber or a bum on the street!” They pass the exit for Mercer. “And I don’t even know where I’m driving! Which hotel are you staying at?”
“The Hilton. It’s on Sixth Avenue.”
Anthony is fuming. He hates being pushed to the point where he loses his temper. Every time he talks to his father, it’s like speaking into a vacuum—his words swallowed without being heard.
He takes the Union Street exit and turns left onto Fifth Avenue.
“Were you even planning to see me or Serena?” Anthony asks. “Mom said you’ve already been here a few days.”
“I did see Serena,” his father says. “I saw her yesterday evening. We had dinner together.”
“You did?” Anthony tries to look at his dad, but can’t because he’s pulling up in front of the hotel.
“She played her violin for me and, I admit, I was impressed. I understand she’s going to a private school for music.”
“That’s right.” Anthony nods. “And if she wants to be a musician, you can be dam
n sure I won’t stand in her way.”
His father gives a deep sigh as he gathers his belongings. “I know you think I don’t care about what you want, but I do. You forget I’ve known you all your life, Antonio. You would have made a gifted doctor—it’s been killing me to watch you throw it all away.”
“Is that why you don’t call me to have dinner when you’re in town?”
“What does it matter? I’ll see you in a month anyway at that awards ceremony that means so much to you.”
“You know what? Don’t do me any favors.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I don’t want you there. Don’t come.”
His father studies him. ”Aren’t you getting a little old for temper tantrums?”
Anthony’s shoulders tense. “You say you know me, but you don’t know the first thing about me. I don’t give a damn about that medal! You really think I care about awards? You think that’s why I chose this over medicine?”
“I think you’ve made some poor decisions,” his father says, reaching for the door handle. “That’s what I think.”
“Then you would be wrong. Maybe you don’t agree what I do is important, but I know it is.”
“As you wish,” his father says, always having to get in the last word. “You won’t have to suffer my presence at your ceremony.”
He slams the car door behind him.
On the drive home, Anthony curses and hits the steering wheel again. Dammit!
Why do I let him get to me?
He’ll never give me his approval, so why do I keep trying? It’s like hoping to solve a mathematical impossibility.
Once he’s home he goes inside only long enough to grab his motorcycle jacket, and then heads straight to the garage where his Ducati Diavel is waiting for him. A ready and eager mistress.
Anthony punches it and it feels good to ride his bike hard and fast, the world blurring past. It’s a cold night, but the backcountry roads are empty, so he twists the throttle, trying to clear his head. Why couldn’t I have been born into a different family? It’s a selfish thought and he knows many people would be surprised to hear it. He’s tired of their disapproval, though, their disappointment. He had a privileged childhood, but things aren’t always how they appear. Few people would understand that.
It occurs to him there’s one person who might get it.
And he wants to be with her right now. He turns his bike west, heading back toward Seattle.
Maybe there’s one relationship I can still fix.
NATALIE IS AT her favorite part in Empire Strikes Back—right after Luke goes to Dagobah and meets Yoda—when her front doorbell rings.
She glances at the clock. It’s almost ten. Kind of late for visitors. Pausing the television, she goes over and peeks cautiously through the front window.
A bolt of lightning streaks through her.
Anthony is standing on her front porch. He’s wearing his motorcycle jacket and holding his black helmet at his side. The big bad wolf at her door.
What’s he doing here?
She glances at herself in the hall mirror. No makeup and her hair a mess. Great.
He rings the bell again and she marches over, ready to take the offensive. Ready to tell him to go away. But when Natalie yanks open the door and sees the expression on his face, she hesitates.
“What’s wrong?” she asks finally.
He takes his time with his reply. “I needed to see you tonight.”
“Did something happen?”
“It’s a long story.” He smiles, but there isn’t much humor in it.
She’s never seen Anthony like this before. He never looks anything less than perfect, but there’s strain on his face and around his eyes, and she suspects this is the real man
He takes a step toward her, lowering his voice. “Let me in, Natalie.”
Broad shouldered and solemn in her doorway, he’s an imposing figure, but she isn’t afraid. Despite the fiasco with the bakery, she realizes she still trusts him.
She steps out of the way to let him come inside.
The door closes and she walks back into the living room. There’s a sound and she sees Anthony has dropped his motorcycle helmet on a chair.
“This is a bad idea,” Natalie tells him. “I don’t know why you came here. I shouldn’t even be talking to you.”
“I think you know exactly why I’m here.” His voice is low as it vibrates through the room.
There’s an erotic thrill at his words. “How can I be with you after what happened?”
“Because this isn’t about any of that.” For a moment, his eyes darken with regret, but then turn heated. “Whatever happens next is between you and me.”
Natalie shakes her head, but Anthony moves closer until he’s in right in front of her. She feels his hand on her cheek as the other cradles her head, gently holding her still. “Don’t,” he says, his tone imploring. “Don’t say no. Tell me to stay.”
And then she understands what she didn’t a moment ago—why he came tonight. The two of them are at the top of that Ferris wheel again, only this time, it’s Anthony who’s in trouble. Anthony is hurting.
She closes her eyes. A part of her is still angry. Furious at what he did. But there’s another part of her that doesn’t want to send him away. Because despite everything that’s happened, she knows one thing with certainty.
I still want him.
She opens her eyes, looking right into his.
“What’s it going to be?” he asks softly.
She licks her lips. Takes a deep breath and lets it out. “I want you to stay.”
There’s relief on Anthony’s face before he dips his head and kisses her. His mouth tastes wild and sweet. She’s surrounded by his windblown scent and the leather from his jacket—a heady and potent mixture.
Pulling back, he lets out a shaky breath. “Now, tell me you want me.”
Natalie’s arms slide around his neck and she draws him close, puts her lips to his ear. “I want you,” she whispers.
Anthony groans and pulls her in roughly. His mouth captures hers again and this time his kiss is demanding, savage, and it’s turning her inside out.
“God.” He sucks in a deep breath as he tries to gain control. Something snags his interest and he turns his head. “Were you watching Empire?”
“Yes. I was mad at you, but I wasn’t going to let you ruin one of my favorite movies.”
He turns back, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You really are my dream woman.”
Natalie tries to draw him in for another kiss, but he glances down at her body and then up to meet her eyes. “Why don’t you show me your bedroom?”
She swallows and then takes his warm hand. Her heart is hammering so loudly she’s surprised he can’t hear it. Or maybe he can.
He follows her upstairs and down the hall to the guest bedroom where she still sleeps. Natalie opens the door, and after peeking to make sure there’s nothing embarrassing on display, turns the light back off.
Immediately, Anthony turns it on again.
“I want it off,” she says.
His eyes search the room. “How about we use that light instead?” He points at her bedside lamp.
She bites her lip. Tries to figure out how to convince him to leave the room pitch black.
“I want to see you,” he insists.
“But I’m shy.”
“Let’s just cover the lamp with something so it’s dim.”
Natalie hesitates. “I guess that might work.” She goes over to the closet, pulls a blue cardigan sweater out and hands it to him.
He holds it up. It’s big and dark and looks an awful lot like a blanket. “I was thinking more along the lines of a sheer scarf. Do you have something like that?”
Natalie stares at him, but doesn’t make a move.
Anthony puts the sweater down. Rubs his jaw. “Why do I feel like I’m negotiating a hostage release?”
“I’m sor
ry.” She smiles sheepishly. “I guess I’m kind of ruining the moment, huh?”
“No, it’s all right.”
Getting up, Natalie goes to her dresser and finds a dark red scarf she hasn’t been bold enough to wear yet. He takes it from her and soon the room is draped in a sexy red glow.
Anthony glances around, nodding with approval. “I think this is going to work.” He shrugs out of his leather jacket and tosses it on the chair. Kicks his shoes off. And then he’s standing there in a T-shirt and Natalie smiles when she sees what it is.
“You’re wearing my Hulk shirt.”
“Yeah, I wear it all the time.”
Natalie feels more pleased than she probably should. And as he’s standing there, draped in a red glow, handsome as sin, something occurs to her, something she can’t believe didn’t occur to her before. Yes, if there’s a light in the bedroom he’ll be able to see her.
But I’ll get to see him, too.
He’s watching her from over by the bed and wordlessly puts his hand out.
She goes to him and slips easily into his arms. His mouth covers hers and they kiss while his hands roam down her body over her clothes.
Anthony suddenly breaks the kiss. “I just have to ask you something.”
“Okay.” She blinks.
He looks down at her. “What is this thing you’re wearing?”
“It’s my Lord of the Rings hoodie. Remember I told you how Chloe and Lindsay hid it from me? I searched the house tonight and found it. Check this out.” Natalie flips the hood up to show him how it’s long and pointy like Gandalf’s wizard hat. “And the sleeves too.” She holds them up. “Cool, huh?”
Anthony nods. “It is kind of cool.”
“Do you really think so?” Natalie’s eyes widen in surprise.
“It reminds me of Ben Kenobi’s robe,” he grins, “though I have to admit, I’d rather see you in Leia’s gold bikini.”
“I can’t believe you like it. No one has ever liked my hoodie.” Natalie is amazed.
“Yeah, it’s the same with all my Star Wars T-shirts.”
Their eyes meet and Natalie feels something inside her relax, a part she didn’t even realize she’d been holding back.
His expression grows sly. “Though I’d like to see you out of it now.” His eyes search the front. “How does it come off?”
Year of Living Blonde (Sweet Life in Seattle, Book 1) Page 26
