Italian Knights

by Sharon DeVita

  Sal sighed. “I hope so, Ryce. I hope so.” Sal smiled. “Thanks, Ryce. I appreciate it.”

  Ryce laughed. “Appreciate it, hell. Wait until I tell Willie someone has finally captured Smooth, Suave Sal!”

  Chapter Eight

  “Ryce seems very nice, but a little intimidating,” Annie said with a laugh as she pushed her plate away. She glanced around the small restaurant. Nestled in the basement of a converted brownstone, Parillo’s was a family-run operation and had the best Italian food in the city. The decor was strictly cafeteria, red-and-white plastic tablecloths, vinyl-covered chairs, and fake flowers strewn about the walls. Loud Italian music blared from speakers hoisted near the ceiling. What Parillo’s lacked in decor, it made up for in cuisine. The place was known citywide for its food and was packed almost every night. She brought her gaze back to Sal’s, her eyes sparkling.

  He laughed softly, covering her hand with his. “Ryce has been called a lot worse things than just intimidating, Annie. But he’s a great guy. Since he fell in love with Willie, he’s really changed.”

  “You promised to tell me the rest of the story,” she reminded him, anxious to hear more.

  Smiling, Sal sipped his coffee. “T.C. was a street-smart eleven-year-old, hell-bent and headed for trouble. Until he ran into Ryce. Boy, Annie, that kid didn’t know the meaning of the word trouble until he met Ryce. They were two of a kind—unorthodox, rebellious, loners. Ryce lived by his own rules, cop or not. When he met T.C., Ryce was determined to give the kid a home, and something else he’d never had—love. But Willie—that’s Ryce’s wife—she was the social worker in charge of T.C. She took one look at Ryce and decided he wasn’t suited to raise a flag, let alone a child. For a while, things between the two of them flew fast and furious, with Willie and Ryce colliding at every turn. But eventually they worked it out. And somewhere along the line, Ryce, the guy who never let anyone close, fell head over heels in love with Willie.” Sal laughed. “It’s hard to believe he’s actually married and the father of five.”

  “Five!” Annie gasped.

  “T.C. was the first kid they took in. Somehow, over the past two years, Ryce has brought home three more, as well as their having had Michael Ryce, Junior.”

  “And his wife’s expecting again?” Annie’s eyes glittered with amazement, and just a bit of envy. She’d always wanted children, but Tony had been violently opposed to the idea, fearing it would tie them down.

  Sal nodded. “Twins, Ryce said. He was the last guy in the world I ever expected to get married.”

  “Kind of like you,” she teased, and Sal’s eyes darkened.

  “Annie,” he said quietly, his eyes softly searching hers. He covered her hand with his. He wanted so much to tell her what he was feeling, but he knew he couldn’t until they’d settled a few things. He’d been trying so hard the past few weeks to prove to her that what was happening between them was not just some emotional tie, or a feeling of duty or obligation, but the real thing.

  She filled his nights and his days. All he could do was think about Annie. Soon he would tell her, but he wanted to be sure she understood that this was something precious between them. Love didn’t come too often, at least not the kind of love he felt for her. He wanted to take his time, let her get used to the idea. He’d waited his whole life for her, and Sal knew if he had to, he could wait a little more. She was worth it.

  “Annie,” he said slowly, gently stroking her hand with his thumb, loving the instant response she gave. “I’ve never gotten married because I haven’t found the right woman. Marriage is too important to make a mistake. When I get married, it’s going to be forever.”

  Forever. Her eyes slid closed and Annie desperately clung to her composure. She couldn’t read anything into Sal’s comments. She couldn’t get her hopes up. But still, the thought of being married to Sal, of having his children, brought a wonderful giddiness to her heart.

  “Come on. Let’s go back to your house. You can walk off some of that wine,” he said with a grin. Sal stood up, dropped his napkin to the table and pulled her chair out.

  Nodding, Annie let Sal guide her out of the restaurant, feeling a bit woozy. Usually a nondrinker, she’d had two glasses of wine and they’d gone immediately to her head.

  Breathing deeply of the warm night air, Annie sighed happily as they walked. Parillo’s was only a few blocks from her house and they’d chosen to walk, and enjoy the warm summer evening. She glanced at Sal, noting he was watching her intently, a strange expression on his face.

  Something was on his mind. Something important. She’d known him long enough to know his moods. He shared everything with her, and she knew when he was ready, he would talk to her.

  Sal clasped her hand in his. “Let’s walk to Peanut Park.” Peanut Park was really officially named Arrigo Park, but renamed Peanut because of its unusual shape. Bordered by saplings and cottonwoods, the park was nearly deserted except for a few children playing stickball at the north end.

  Holding hands, they walked in silence for a few moments, occasionally waving to a neighbor who was still sitting outside.

  “Annie?”

  “What, Sal?”

  He stopped, turning to face her directly. “Do you ever think about…him?” He tightened his fingers on her hand as his gaze held hers.

  She didn’t need to ask who he was talking about. She knew. Tony. It was odd for Sal to bring him up now, after all this time. Sal had never talked about him. In fact, he’d deliberately avoided talking about him. Perhaps that explained his sudden quietness.

  “Sometimes,” she admitted.

  “What do you think about?” he asked quietly, urging her forward. Sal carefully held her arm as they avoided a broken patch in the sidewalk.

  Annie thought about his question. “I don’t know, I guess I think about what a waste it was for him to die so young. I think about—I guess I think about a lot of things. After Tony first—after it first happened, I thought a lot about him.” She shrugged. “I guess I felt guilty.”

  “Guilty?” Sal came to a halt directly under a streetlamp and looked at her. “What the hell did you have to feel guilty about?”

  Annie glanced away. This was something—her innermost feelings about her husband—that she’d never discussed with anyone. She wasn’t certain anyone would understand.

  “Well,” she said tentatively, “I think about the fact that our marriage…well, it never really had a chance to get off the ground.” A flash of lightning lit up the sky.

  “Let’s head back, before we get caught in a downpour,” Sal suggested, wondering about her statement. He guided her back in the direction of the house. A breeze kicked up, ruffling the trees. Annie pushed a tumbled curl off her face.

  “Do you miss him?” Sal asked carefully, picking up the conversation. Annie smiled in the darkness.

  “Sometimes—I guess.” She sighed, keeping her gaze downcast. “It all seems so long ago. When I think about him now, it seems as if we really weren’t married at all.”

  “Why?” He glanced at her, his eyes roaming over her beautiful features. Her curls had come loose from the combs she’d secured them with and now blew around her face like a dark halo.

  Annie shrugged. It was going to be hard to put what she wanted to say into words. “Tony and I—” She stopped. “It’s been so long now, Sal. Memories fade,” she said softly. She’d never talked to anyone about the problems in her marriage. There was never anyone to talk about them with. Tony could be very noncommunicative. There would be periods of time when he didn’t talk to her at all, about anything. It was hard to admit, even to Sal, that her so-called perfect marriage wasn’t so perfect after all.

  Sal was so different from Tony. She could talk to him about anything. He was easygoing and even-tempered. She couldn’t ever remember Sal really losing his temper, or going into a black mood. It was hard to believe at times that he and Tony had been friends all their lives. They were so different.

  “Does it bo
ther you to talk about him?” Sal asked gently, giving her hand an encouraging squeeze.

  Annie shivered a bit as the night breeze turned cooler. Goose bumps rose along her bare arms, and Sal instinctively draped an arm around her shoulder, drawing her closer to his warmth. “No,” she said hesitantly. “It’s just…some things I’ve just never discussed with anyone.”

  “I know the feeling,” Sal muttered.

  She struggled to pick up the thread of their conversation as Sal steered her around a corner toward her house. She took a deep breath. “Tony was reclusive at times. I was married to him but sometimes I felt as if I didn’t really know him. I know that sounds strange, but—”

  “No, Annie,” Sal said softly. “I understand.” He led her up the stairs and sank down on the top step, pulling her with him. He put his arm around her shoulder. “Go on,” he urged.

  “I don’t know, Sal. I always thought marriage would be different from what it was.”

  “Were you disappointed?” He saw the hesitation in her eyes and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, cradling her against him. “Were you?” he repeated softly.

  Annie swallowed hard. “Yes,” she admitted. “And I feel terribly guilty even saying that.” She smiled sadly. “Marriage wasn’t quite what I expected—at least, marriage to Tony.” Her voice dropped, and she glanced away. “Tony proposed right after my father died. It was a rough time for me. My mother had only been gone two years and I suddenly realized how alone I was.” Annie stared off into the distance, remembering the pain she’d felt at the time. “I loved Tony, but sometimes I felt so lonely when we were married. We didn’t really share a lot of things. It was almost as if we were just two people living in the same house, with nothing else tying us together. Can you understand that?” She glanced at him, wondering how he would take her comments. Sal nodded.

  He understood it all too well. “Do you think you’d ever want to get married again?” He stared at her a moment, his expression serious, his dark eyes probing. Annie shifted nervously under his scrutiny.

  “Sometimes I think about it,” she admitted, smiling softly, unwilling to add that the only person she’d ever thought about marrying was him. “But the next time—if there is a next time—I wouldn’t settle for being shut out.” She lifted her chin and met his gaze. “If I ever get married again, Sal, it would have to be to someone who would share everything with me. I don’t ever want to feel like I’m giving one hundred percent and only getting ten percent in return. I want a marriage that’s equal. I want to know that I’m as important to my husband as he would be to me.” She chuckled softly. “I know, to a confirmed bachelor like you it probably sounds like a life sentence.”

  “No, not at all,” he said quietly, absently stroking circles on her bare shoulder. “It sounds…wonderful. Even confirmed bachelors think about marriage once in a while.” The thought of giving all of that to her, and then getting it in return, sounded like heaven. Sal smiled inwardly, wondering if she knew how delectable she looked.

  “Not you, Sal. I can’t imagine you settling down with just one woman.” Annie laughed softly, the tension leaving her as his fingers lulled her into sensuous slumber. Her eyes slid closed on a heavy sigh as Annie laid her head on his shoulder, tired now from the wine and the food.

  “Maybe I just haven’t found the right woman yet,” he countered, leisurely stroking her arm and shoulder. Her breath came unsteadily as her heart responded to his nearness.

  “That’s just what your mother said.” Sighing contentedly, Annie buried her face close to the warmth of his neck.

  “Surely an unimpeachable, impartial source,” he teased, kissing the top of her head.

  “Sal?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Do…do…you ever think about him?”

  His hand stilled on her shoulder, and she lifted her head to look into his eyes. “Sometimes,” he admitted, urging her head back down on to his chest. Absently he stroked her hair, wanting to protect her from what he had to tell her.

  “What do you think about?” she asked softly.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” he said with a sigh. “A lot of things, I guess.” His voice was gentle, but she thought she detected a hint of sadness.

  Sal sighed. How could he explain to her that missing Tony wasn’t the problem. The problem was coming to terms with what he had to tell her. He’d done a lot of thinking tonight, and he’d realized that what Ryce had said was true. He’d been protecting Tony—at his own expense and Annie’s. Ryce was right. She had a right to know the truth about what had happened.

  Maybe he’d been wrong in keeping it from her, but at the time he’d thought he was doing what was best for her. He’d seen no point in hurting her any further, and he’d known that she would have been devastated.

  It had been two years now; hopefully the pain had dulled. And she had him and his love to help her over the rough spots. But he couldn’t help but wonder if it would be enough.

  They couldn’t have any kind of relationship unless they were truthful with one another. Annie had had enough deceptions from the men in her life; she deserved the truth. He just didn’t know quite how he was going to tell her.

  “You miss him, don’t you?” Annie asked, wondering why he was so quiet. She knew Sal didn’t like to talk about Tony. It was the one and only thing he’d never discussed with her. She understood. Some things were too painful. She often wondered if perhaps Sal relived the night of Tony’s death over and over every time he talked about it.

  “Sometimes. He was my best friend, Annie, and Tony and I knew each other our whole lives, but that doesn’t mean I approved of everything he did. From the time we were little, I covered for him. No matter what, I always covered his rear. Tony wasn’t a bad guy, he just never really grew up. In a lot of ways, he was still very immature.”

  Another crack of thunder split the sky. Annie nodded, burrowing closer to his warmth. “Do you think…” She paused. “Sal, do you think it’s terrible for us to talk like this…about him?”

  “No, Annie, not terrible. I think it’s about time. You know, it’s one of the few things we’ve never really discussed.”

  “I know,” she said softly. “I always felt like it was the one thing you didn’t want to talk about. I just thought it was too painful. I knew you had to deal with it in your own way.”

  Sal knew she was referring to the fact that he’d gone off to Ryce’s cabin in the need to be alone. But it wasn’t Tony’s death he’d had to deal with, so much as the lies. He hadn’t liked it any more then than he liked it now. But he’d done it for Annie. Would she understand that?

  Annie took a deep breath as Sal tightened his arms around her, drawing her even closer. It felt so right, so natural to be here in his arms.

  She didn’t care what the reasons were for his always being around, for his always being here for her. Obligation, loyalty—she didn’t care what the reason. At the moment the reasons didn’t matter. All that mattered was he was here with her. For now, that was enough.

  Sal was a very special person, a very special man. And Annie was just glad she had him as a friend. If that’s all he would ever be to her, she would enjoy him and the time she had with him and be grateful for that.

  “Annie,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “I think there’s something else we should talk about?”

  “Mmm, what, Sal?” she asked drowsily.

  “Us, Annie,” Sal said softly, and Annie stiffened.

  “Us?” she repeated, drawing back and out of his arms to search his face. “As in you and me, us?”

  He ruffled her hair. “Don’t look so shocked. We’ve successfully avoided talking about what’s been happening between us, and I don’t want to do that anymore. I want things to be out in the open.”

  “Sal,” she protested, lifting a hand to stroke his face. “You’ve always been open and honest with me. You were always the one person in the world I knew I could trust, could count on.” Her generous mouth tilted and Sa
l’s heart constricted. She was looking up at him with such hope, such trust. God! She was going to be devastated when she learned that not only had her husband betrayed her, but in his own way, so had he.

  “Annie, things have changed between us. It’s got nothing to do with bonding or attachments or chaperoning, or anything else for that matter.”

  She nodded, her heart pounding in hope. She loved the feel of being so close to him, having him near, even if it did make her pulse thud and her knees weak.

  “Annie, I know you think I’ve just been hanging around out of some sense of obligation or duty. I don’t know, maybe it started out that way. After Tony died, you just seemed so lost, so alone.”

  “I was lost, and alone. Sal, you have to realize, at the time I felt like I’d lost everything, and everyone who cared about me. My mother, father and my husband all died within three years.” She blinked back tears, remembering how alone she’d felt. It was a frightening feeling, knowing that you had no one to turn to, no one to share things with. “And then you came to the rescue—” she laughed softly, “—my knight in shining armor.” She touched his face again, loving its gritty texture. “You always knew just the right thing to do, the right thing to say. You made me feel so much better about myself, about everything.” Her eyes held his. “Whenever I needed you, no matter what the reason, I knew I could always count on you. I never felt quite so alone when you were around.”

  Sal smiled, and Annie paused to take a deep breath. “But you don’t have to worry about me anymore, Sal. I’m not going to go out with David anymore—or anyone like him.”

  “You bet you’re not,” he growled, not liking the direction this conversation was taking. He turned her around to look at her, his eyes lovingly tracing her features.

  “Oh, Sal,” she murmured, leaning her head against his shoulder. “What would I do without you?”

  “Let’s hope you never have to find out,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around her. Annie sighed deeply, not wanting to sort through the complications of all her emotions.