by Elley Arden
It was nice to know things were back to normal.
“How are you feeling?” Angie whispered to Trish.
Okay, so things weren’t exactly back to normal.
“I’m good,” Trish said, but when she smiled, the expression didn’t reach her eyes.
Tony wondered what was bothering her. He wondered if Angie caught on to the fib, too. This was a new kind of normal. Him, with Trish, knowing her well enough to decipher clues to her mood. Trish, with him, carrying his baby. Surreal, for sure, but normal now, too. He touched a hand to the small of her back and then cupped her waist, moving her closer.
“Attention, everyone,” Vin called over the crowd from his perch on the staircase. “We’re going to go ahead and open the house, so you can be seated. As soon as Nonna arrives, we’ll start.”
He looked like hell, collar crooked, deep wrinkles marring his shirt. Tony had a hunch some serious pit stains lurked beneath that suit coat. “He’s going to have a heart attack before he’s fifty.”
Angie swatted Tony’s arm. “Did you ever think of helping him? This is a big deal. He planned this all by himself.”
“With minimal help from the girls in his office, I’m sure.” Tony shot Angie his don’t-give-me-any-of-your-bullshit look, but then he smiled and winked.
She wrinkled her nose. “Fine, then I’ll ask if he needs help.” She stormed away.
“You can go, you know? I’ll be okay.” Trish’s head followed Angie’s path through the crowd.
“I don’t want to go,” Tony whispered against her ear. “Why would I leave the most beautiful woman in the room? Somebody’s bound to make a move.”
She pushed a palm against his chest, but then she gripped his lapel, leaning into him. They stayed that way, wrapped in a hug, while the rest of the Corcarelli clan filtered into the auditorium. A few cousins waggled their brows as they passed. One even gave thumbs up. Warmth fizzed in Tony’s chest. Approval from his family definitely felt weird.
He smiled overtop Trish’s head at the last cousin to leave the lobby, and then he kissed her temple. “We should sit.”
Her grip tightened on his lapel. “I have to…use the lady’s room.” And then she left him to watch her erratic steps as her ankles wobbled in the too-high heels.
The warmth in his chest turned ice cold, causing him to rub a hand over his heart.
“Tony, hold the door.”
He blinked, shook his head, and then turned toward his mother’s voice. She was poking around the jamb of the exit door. A horrible sound, like a sick dog barking, filtered into the lobby from behind her. He didn’t ask whose dog. He didn’t care. He simply rushed forward, taking the edge of the door from her hand.
The barking grew louder as Ma and Aunt Connie helped a coughing Nonna into the building.
Tony pulled his brows together above his nose. “Hey, Nonna.”
Her eyes rolled in his direction, and her lips twitched, but another cough foiled her smile and words.
He looked at his mother, who was shaking her head in a not-now motion. “We’re late. Vinnie’s going to have our heads.” She offered a quick smile as the small group shuffled toward the auditorium door.
There had to be more to her tension than punctuality.
Out of the corner of his eye, Tony saw Trish emerge from the ladies room. She smiled at him, a gesture that injected relief into his veins. Then, she stumbled when she saw the other women.
“Hello,” she said, offering a little wave with her shiny purse.
Tony watched his mother and aunt smile in return, but then Nonna coughed again, and all attention gravitated to her. Something told him to go to Trish, to let Nonna see them together. At first, he balked. He’d spent most of his life ignoring his conscience’s little guilt trips where his family was concerned. That didn’t feel like the right thing to do anymore.
Crossing the lobby, he took Trish by the hand. “Nonna, you remember Trish DeVign, don’t you?”
Nonna stopped, eyes on Trish and Tony’s interlocking hands. She shook her elbow until Ma released her, and then she did the same to Aunt Connie. “I remember,” she said. Every syllable soaked in breath. She coughed as she reached both hands into the air, taking Tony by the left cheek and Trish by the right.
A lump formed in Tony’s chest. Nonna didn’t have the strength to squeeze, but the gesture was powerful nonetheless.
“Good,” she managed before dropping her hands on another coughing fit.
“Mother, you need to sit,” Aunt Connie said.
Vin burst through the auditorium doors. “There you are.” He took Nonna’s face in his hands and kissed her nose before he accepted her hand from Tony’s mother. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
Ma fell behind, into step with Tony and Trish. “It’s the fluid,” she whispered. “Again. Only it’s worse. Connie and I tried to get her to let us take her to the ER. She’s so stubborn.”
Ma moved ahead when Nonna coughed again.
The coughing attracted the attention of the rest of the family. One by one, they turned in their seats, smiles on their lips but fear in their eyes.
Tony knew the feeling.
Trish squeezed his hand, and somehow that helped enough to get him down the aisle to his seat and through the first set of songs despite Nonna’s coughing.
But nothing helped when Vin cancelled the second set to call an ambulance.
* * *
Trish moved through the crowded lobby, desperate to reach the ladies room before anyone stopped her. For the second time today, she suspected her period. There couldn’t be a worse time for obsessing over this.
Pushing against the swinging door, she blinked back tears and walked to the farthest stall. The tears were for Nonna, she told herself, not for what may or may not happen in here. Life vs. death? Hardly a contest. Besides, if she wasn’t pregnant now, she could try again.
The blood-tinged pantyliner caught her eye at the exact time Angie’s voice echoed in her ear.
“Trish, you in here?”
Maybe if she didn’t so much as breathe.
“Hey, Tony sent me to grab you. We’re going to head over to Vin’s to wait on news.”
“I…” her voice caught, “need a second.” Her stomach pushed into her throat. “Maybe two.”
Angie’s heels tapped against the tile floor until she was standing outside the stall. “You okay?”
“Yes.” No, but how could she cry to Angie about not being pregnant when Nonna was losing the battle? Trish had other chances. Nonna might not. Still…
“You don’t sound okay.”
“I’m fine.” She lifted her gaze to the ceiling and exhaled. “I’ll be out soon.”
Angie huffed. “If you say so…” The heels tapped the tile as she walked away. “See you at Vin’s.” The door shut behind her, and Trish was left in the blessed silence of her tears.
She wasn’t pregnant, and Nonna was gravely ill. Maybe everything was hopeless.
Somehow, Trish managed to take care of herself and exit the stall, all the while wondering how she’d tell Tony, when she’d tell him, certainly not today, not until he knew Nonna was okay—if she was okay.
Acid burned Trish’s chest and throat. An hour ago, she would’ve thought it a sign of pregnancy. Now, she knew better, and better sucked.
Standing at the sink, washing her hands, Trish stared bleary-eyed into the mirror until Tony appeared.
“Hey.” His beautiful smile faded when he saw her, and then his face bunched with concern.
“I’m not pregnant.” She hadn’t planned to tell him this way. It wasn’t timely. It wasn’t eloquent. But she needed to say it out loud so she could move on. Somehow saying it to his reflection proved easier.
He closed his eyes, briefly, but it was long enough to add the weight of his disappointment to her already sagging shoulders.
“I’m sorry,” she said as sobs forced from her chest. “I wanted to help you. I wanted to…”
�
�Awe, babe.” He walked to her, wrapped her in his arms and kissed her head. “We’ll try again. That’s all there is to it.”
His simple, perfect answer caused more tears, and then a question hounded her brain. “Why? Why do you want to try again?” Maybe if he said he loved her, the pain of losing the baby she’d dreamed of this time would go away.
He stared at her reflection. “You’re upset. Let’s take a minute to get you cleaned up and calmed down.”
“I just…” She sniffed against his chest, wanting to tell him she loved him. But hadn’t she burdened him with enough confessions today?
A noise in the lobby grabbed his attention, and he loosened his grip on her shoulders, leaning closer to the door. “We need to get to Vin’s. I’m sorry. I…”
He was worried about Nonna, too. She couldn’t—shouldn’t—compete with that.
“No. No. I know.” She sniffed, trying her damnedest to get control of the disappointment. “You need to get to Vin’s.”
He cupped her cheeks and lifted her face to him. “It’s all going to be okay.”
She shook her head. “I know.” But she didn’t know anything. Right now okay seemed like a longshot. “You should go.”
His brows bunched together. “I thought…you would come, too.”
“That was before this.” She prayed for the words to be sure and strong. “I’m a mess. I don’t have what I need to be someplace else for the long haul, and I need to get out of this dress. You understand, don’t you?”
He nodded, but the brows remained tied. “Then I’ll drive you home. You can change and get what you need.”
“No.” She pushed away from him as noises in the lobby filtered through the louvered cracks in the door. “Go, Tony. Your family needs you. I’m fine. I really, truly am.” Liar, liar, but she was better than Nonna, and that’s where his focus needed to be.
His dark eyes widened on a lift of his chin. “I don’t like leaving you like this. It’s wrong.”
“Not if I tell you to go. I’m not dying, Tony. I got my period.” Could she have been a bigger bitch? Nausea, big and bold, turned her stomach inside out. Another symptom of her non-existent pregnancy.
He nodded slowly, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out her keys. “Okay then, I guess I’ll ride with Ange.” When she didn’t hold out her hand to accept the keys, he placed them on the counter. “I’ll call you, to let you know how she is.” And then he was gone.
Trish stood there, frozen against the bathroom sink, listening to the fading sounds outside the door. When she finally pushed into the empty lobby reality hit her.
Two years spent plotting and planning for a biological family, and she’d never been more alone.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“Where’s Trish?”
Angie’s question wasn’t one Tony cared to answer, so he ignored her, staring at the horse on the dashboard of her ’65 Mustang instead.
“I went into that bathroom, remember. I know something was wrong. Is she sick?”
Why were the women in his life so damn nosy, and why did he feel this obligation to keep the peace by giving in? No wonder he ran every chance he got for so many years. It was easier than hanging around and being badgered by them.
“Tony?”
“She got her period. Okay? Cripes.” It was easier to word it that way than to say she wasn’t pregnant.
“Oh. Maybe that’s a good thing.”
He heard his patience snap. It sounded like ears popping from too much pressure in his head. “A good thing? Seriously? No, Ange. It’s not a good thing. It’s a terrible thing, a fucking awful thing. That baby meant something…to Trish.”
“Sounds like it meant something to you, too.”
She was not going to bait him again. “Whatever. I’m gonna try callin’ Aunt Connie again.” How shitty was his life that he was distracting himself from bad news with even worse news?
Of course, she didn’t pick up.
“It’s a hospital, Tony. She has it on vibrate, which means we won’t talk to anyone until they call us. Settle down.”
And talk about Trish? No thank you. So he’d stick with the next worst thing. “Why does the fluid make Nonna cough?”
Angie shrugged. “Vin did some research on his phone while we waited in the lobby. He said it could be building up in her chest cavity. I don’t know what it’s called. Some fancy name.”
“I don’t care what it’s called, either. I just wanna know if it means the cancer is spreading?”
She shrugged again. “All I know is they can drain fluid from her chest like they’ve been draining it from her abdomen. She’ll get some relief then. Let’s focus on that.”
Tony pressed fingertips against his eyelids until the pressure hurt, and then he whacked his head off the headrest a couple times. He didn’t want to focus on anything, because everything sucked.
He opened his mouth to tell Angie to swing by Trish’s house so he could grab his bike, then he could ride far and fast as soon as he knew Nonna was comfortable. He could also check on Trish, make sure she was okay.
But what if she wasn’t? He closed his mouth without saying a word. If Trish was upset, he wouldn’t want to leave. It’d be the same feeling he’d felt when they were alone in the restroom, like he was being torn apart.
“You know, up until today I couldn’t figure out why she was with you.”
Tony sort of glared at his sister, knowing exactly which “she” she was talking about. Was it too much to ask for her not to analyze this relationship? Heck, Tony was still trying to figure out exactly what it had become. Maybe Angie figured out what brought Tony and Trish together in the first place—Trish’s baby-making plan. It was definitely too much to ask for Angie to think it possible that Trish was with him because he was worthy of her.
“You’re different with her, you know?” Angie continued. “How you hold her hand and look at her, all that touchy-feely crap I’ve never seen you do with anyone. And she talks to you, more than she talks to me, which is warped, but also a good sign. I mean, it must mean you’re good to her…for her.” The wrinkles on her face tightened. “Blah, blah, blah.” She lifted her hands from the wheel, waved them in front of her like she was erasing the sentiments, and then shot him a shitty grin.
Well, color him surprised. Part of him wanted to thank her, but that much emotion between them would’ve been plain weird. “I don’t know about all that,” he said, trying to play it off.
“Well, how ’bout we say you have moments? And the last thing I’m ever going to say about it is she’s good for you, too.”
Tony had less of a problem agreeing with that, but he didn’t say so. Saying it would’ve made him miss her even more. Inhaling, he focused on the blazing ball of sun rising above the U.S. Steel Tower.
“What I’m trying to say is, you’re here, and that’s…something.”
He caught Angie’s insinuation, that Trish was somehow the reason for him not bailing on this family vigil, like he’d bailed on every one when Dad was sick. Maybe Tony being here did mean something, but he was too worried about the women he loved to analyze it.
Not until Angie parked in Vin’s packed driveway did Tony’s thoughts catch up with him. He was here, because he was worried about Nonna. He loved her. And if he wasn’t here, he’d be with Trish, because he loved her, too. He had to. He couldn’t imagine life without her by his side.
Baby or no baby, he wanted to be with Trish DeVign.
His jaw dropped, and he feigned an itch so he could scratch his chin and manually close his gaping mouth.
He was in love?
Vin was going to shit.
Now what? He leaned closer to the passenger door, hoping Angie didn’t catch onto his erratic breathing. If he told Trish how he felt, she might not feel the same. But what if she did? What if all the hypotheticals could be real?
Tony didn’t know what shocked him more, that he managed to fall in love or that he wanted hypotheticals that included
marriage. Marriage. He couldn’t think of anything better than being hitched to Trish, waking up to her day after day, making love to her night after night, and laughing with her every moment in between.
As soon as the Nonna situation was under control, he was going to find Trish and tell her.
* * *
Trish stared at the telephone, wanting to call Tony. But when she picked up the phone, she wondered if she shouldn’t call Angie instead. Maybe she’d pushed him too hard. Maybe he wasn’t calling for a reason.
Like maybe there’s no news. Of course, that could be true.
She slid the pain reliever off the counter and popped four into her mouth, swallowing them without a drop of water. They caught in her throat for a few seconds, and for those few blissful seconds, she thought of something other than the Corcarellis. But then she swallowed the pills completely, and the worry for Nonna and questions about Tony returned. Trish might not be a Corcarelli by blood, but lately the family had consumed her. In some ways, she felt like she belonged more to them than to her adoptive parents.
Curling up on the couch, Trish lifted her phone and this time dialed her mother, the woman who used to put her to sleep with stories about adoption being love by choice, not by accident.
The older Trish got, the more she resented the reminder that she came into this world an accident, and the more she forgot about how powerful a choice could be. She needed to make the choice to appreciate her mother for what she did give, because love was never easy.
“Hello.” Delores sounded like she answered the phone following a five-mile run. Trish trampled the impulse to assume the breathlessness meant her mother didn’t have time for her. She’d done enough overthinking for one day.
“Hi. I thought you might want to know they had to rush Tony and Angie’s grandmother to the hospital.”
“Oh my. I’m sorry to hear that. Which hospital, dear? I’ll have an arrangement sent with a card. Are you doing something on your own or should I include you?”
“I’ll do something on my own.”
“Fine, dear.” There was a pause, and then a sigh. “Something else is wrong, isn’t there?”
