“I know, hon,” Sal said softly. “But I didn’t want you to worry, at least not until I had some proof.”
She stood up on shaky legs. “You should have told me the truth,” she accused, knowing that if he had, she would never have allowed herself to fall in love with him. But now it was too late. She wasn’t the kind of woman to turn her feelings on and off like a faucet. She’d fallen totally and helplessly in love with him, constantly holding on to the hope that someday he might feel the same way. Now she knew it was never to be.
Sal looked at Annie carefully, noting the sudden paleness of her skin. “Annie, I told you I didn’t want to worry or frighten you. I knew the situation was under control. Every time David showed up, I made sure someone called me.”
Her eyes slid closed and a wave of pain rocked her. Oh, Lord, it was worse than she’d thought. The whole neighborhood knew what a fool she’d been. Poor Annie, the little widow woman who couldn’t even tell when a man was using her.
“Sal! How could you do that?” she cried. “I must look like an incompetent fool who can’t even take care of herself!”
Sal sat up. “No, Annie, that’s not the way it looks. How on earth were you supposed to know what David was up to? What good would it have done to tell you, anyway? You were frightened enough by the burglary as it was. I didn’t think there was any point in worrying you any further.”
“You didn’t think—” She dashed at her tears of humiliation that slid down her cheek. “Sal, when are you going to realize I’m a big girl and I don’t need your protection?” How dare he treat her like a six-year-old child who needed to be watched over constantly.
“Annie, that’s not the way— Hon,” Sal said, rising up on one elbow and trying to calm her down. “I only did it to protect you.”
“Sal, I don’t need your protection,” she protested, knowing it was a lie. She needed Sal more than she’d ever needed anything in her life. “What else haven’t you told me?” Annie demanded.
His eyes darkened and a muscle along his temple jumped. She knew immediately there was more that he wasn’t telling.
“What else?” she demanded and Sal sighed.
Tell her the truth. Be up front. She has a right to know. Ryce’s words echoed in Sal’s mind, and he knew what he had to do. He loved Annie more than anything in the world, but they could never have a real relationship unless he was honest with her. Even though he’d tried so hard to protect her all this time, she was right. She was a big girl, and she had a right to know. If only he could take away some of the pain. He shouldn’t have kept anything from her. Not the information about David, and definitely not the truth about the way Tony died. Would she understand that he had done it out of love and not malice? He hoped so. He was betting his future happiness on it.
“Annie, come sit down,” he said gently, reaching out his hand to her.
She avoided his hand but sat down on the couch next to him, wondering what else he’d been trying to protect her from.
“I want to talk to you about the night Tony died,” Sal said quietly, and her eyes flew to his.
“What does Tony’s death have to do with all of this?” she asked in confusion.
Sal was silent for a long moment. He took her hand, holding it tenderly. “Nothing, but there’s something I’ve never told you about that night.”
Annie felt herself stiffen. “What do you mean?”
“What I mean is I just couldn’t bring myself to tell you the truth about what happened,” he said quietly.
Annie looked at him carefully. “What happened that night, Sal?” she asked, her eyes searching his. A band of pressure tightened around her heart.
“Tony and I were supposed to be on a stakeout. Tony decided to go over to the restaurant; you know, the one by the station.”
“What on earth was he doing there if he was supposed to be on a stakeout?” Her eyes searched his for some clue, but all she saw was a haunting sadness that caused her throat to constrict. “Sal?”
“Annie,” he said softly, laying a hand on her arm. “Tony was with another woman.”
“W-what?” Her eyes searched his, praying this was all a mistake.
“Tony had been seeing her for a while, and I guess her husband found out. He found them together that night. They had words and the next thing I knew…” His voice trailed off and he reached out to her, but she shrank away from him.
“Oh, God,” she whispered, pushing herself to her feet. Tears welled in her eyes as she paced the floor, trying to digest it all.
All this time she’d thought her husband… Oh, God. No wonder Sal could never talk to her about that night. It wasn’t because it hurt him to talk about Tony’s death, but because he was covering for him. All this time Sal had been lying to her. And she’d never questioned him—about anything. She’d just believed everything he said as if it were etched in stone.
“All this time,” she whispered. “You’ve been lying to me…about Tony, about his death, about everything.”
The look in her eyes caused Sal’s heart to crumble in anguish. He shot to his feet and went to her. “No, Annie, I didn’t lie to you about everything. I just didn’t see any point in telling you the specific circumstances. Tony was dead; what good would it have done? I saw the look on your face the night he died, remember? I was the one who had to tell you. I knew then I couldn’t bring myself to inflict any more pain on you. Annie, I’m sorry, I never meant to hurt you or mislead you. I was only trying to protect you.”
“Protect me!” she cried. “You sure cover a lot of ground with those two little words, Sal. I trusted you,” she said in disbelief, whirling away from him. “I thought you were my friend, the one person left in the world I could count on.”
He grabbed her shoulders and turned her to face him. But she refused to look at him. “You can trust me, Annie, and you can count on me.”
She laughed softly—a thin, hysterical sound that Sal felt clear through to his bones. “You’ve been deceiving me for two years, Sal; I’d hardly say that’s a basis for trust.” She wanted to cry, to strike out at him for what he’d done to her. A sob caught in her throat and she whirled away from him again, not wanting him to see her pain.
“Annie, please, don’t. Let me explain.”
“Explain!” She blinked away the tears that filled her eyes. “What else have you lied to me about, Sal?” Her eyes were huge and dark with the pain of betrayal and he felt his heart constrict.
“Nothing, Annie. I’ve never lied to you about anything but this.” Sal had never known a pain such as he felt at this moment. He wanted to pull her into his arms, hold her and protect her from the pain that racked her body.
“You expect me to believe you?” she asked incredulously. “I trusted you,” she whispered. “I never thought you’d lie to me about—about—anything.” She raised her stricken eyes to his. “Why?” she breathed, desperate to know why and how he could do this to her.
“What good would it have done to tell you? He was gone and nothing could bring him back. What difference did it make—”
“‘Difference?” She dashed at the tears that slid down her cheeks. “You don’t understand, do you? It makes a great deal of difference, Sal. How could you keep something like that from me?”
“Don’t you think you’d been through enough, Annie? Please, listen to me.”
“No,” she whispered, shrugging off his hands. “Don’t touch me—please, Sal, just leave me alone.”
He knew he had to make her understand. He did what he did because he loved her and cared about her, not because he wanted to hurt her or betray her. Sal knew that if he didn’t reach her now, if he didn’t make her understand, he might lose her. And he couldn’t bear the thought. He’d waited his whole life for her—for love—and he wasn’t about to lose her now.
“Annie, please?”
“No,” she whispered, unable to turn and face him. “Please, Sal, I just want you to leave. I need some time to think.” Her voice broke and her control slip
ped another notch as Rich’s words came flooding back. You deserve a better husband than Tony was. So this, too, was something else everyone in the neighborhood knew about but her. No wonder Sal thought she needed a chaperone!
A sob tore loose from her throat. “Sal, please leave me alone. Just go.”
Sal stood there for a moment. His heart and his arms ached for her, and once again he cursed his childhood friend for all the pain he had caused them all.
“I’ll go, Annie,” he said. “But I’ll be back. You can count on it.” Sal turned on his heel and headed for the door.
You can count on it. At one time, she’d been certain Sal was the only thing she could count on. Now she knew differently. There wasn’t anything or anyone she could count on but herself.
The soft click of the door shutting behind him opened up the dam of tears Annie had been holding inside. Wrapping her arms around herself, she sank to the floor and began to cry, letting the sobs that shook her body overcome her.
She loved Sal so much, and all this time he’d been lying to her. In his own way, Sal had betrayed her the same way her husband had. She’d told Sal that when she married again—if she married again—she wanted the kind of marriage she hadn’t had with Tony. She wanted a different kind of man and a different kind of marriage. What she’d wanted was Sal. But that was before she knew how easy it was for him to deceive her.
For one brief, shining moment she’d thought Sal was the man to share those dreams with, to share her life with, but that moment was shattered when she learned of his deception. No wonder Sal thought she needed someone to look after her; she couldn’t even tell when a man was lying to her. If Sal had kept something like this from her in order to protect Tony, what else had he kept from her?
An overwhelming sense of sadness etched itself into her heart as she realized once again what a fool she’d been. She’d trusted her husband, and he had betrayed her. It hurt, but Tony was gone now. What he did explained a lot of things—things she’d never understood. She felt a wave of sadness for the man who’d once been her husband. They probably shouldn’t even have married in the first place. They’d never had a deep burning love. It was more like two lonely people drifting toward one another for comfort.
Her love for Sal was different; it was fire and heat and an intense longing to always be with him. She’d waited her whole life to feel this way about a man. It had been a long, often lonely wait. And for what?
Tears filled her eyes again and a quiet desperation filled her soul. She was quite certain she’d never felt so alone in her life. Alone and lonely. She loved Sal as she’d never loved anyone else, but how could she ever trust him again?
Annie smiled sadly. The answer was simple. She couldn’t.
Chapter Ten
It had been a week, and Sal was growing impatient. He knew he had to give Annie time, but his heart ached for what she was going through—for what he’d put her through. He knew she was going to be hurt, he’d expected it. What he hadn’t expected was the absolute devastation he felt.
She refused his calls, and every time he stopped at the deli she scurried out the back door, avoiding him. He was going nuts. The past week had been torture. Never had he known such agony, such bleakness. In seven long, lonely days he’d learned he needed Annie just as he needed air to breathe.
Stabbing anxiety dogged his steps. He was cross and short-tempered at work, barking orders and being a general pain in the behind. This morning the captain had threatened him with suspension if he didn’t get his act together. Sal knew he had to do something. Somehow, he had to find a way to make her understand.
He had a plan but he’d need some help. During lunch he called his mother and his aunt. They agreed to pass the word and do whatever they could. By late that afternoon, his plan was in motion. The rest was up to Annie.
“Annie,” Rosina said gently. “Salvatore called. Again.”
“And what did you tell him?” she finally asked, because Rosina was just standing there looking at her with such a hopeful expression. If she didn’t answer her, Rosina wouldn’t get back to work, and then they would have twenty-five people standing at the counter listening to the life and times of poor Annie Milano, the notorious widow woman.
“The same thing I’ve been telling him for a week.” Rosina patted her shoulder, her dark eyes somber. “I’ve never seen my Salvatore like this. I’m so worried. He loves you, Annie,” Rosina said. “And you love him. I don’t know why you two don’t stop this foolishness.”
Foolishness. Annie smiled sadly. She knew just who the fool had been. A week ago the thought that Sal loved her would have filled her with ecstasy. Now it just filled her with an aching sadness. For a week, Rosina, Florina and even Mrs. Altero had been pleading Sal’s case, insisting he’d only been trying to protect her because he loved her. Annie was trying hard not to let them wear down her resistance; she was trying not to let herself believe Sal really cared. If he did, how could he have lied to her for two years?
Banishing such thoughts, Annie turned to her waiting customer, mentally noting his sandwich preference, then quickly went about filling his order. She’d never been so grateful for the deli or its distractions. She’d thrown herself into her work, dragging herself home every night, falling into bed exhausted, but unable to sleep.
One week. She hadn’t seen or talked to Sal in seven long days. It was the longest period of time in two years she had gone without seeing him. His absence left a crater-size hole in her life.
She’d done nothing but think and cry, and then get mad. But the past was done and over. She couldn’t do anything about it now. But it didn’t make it hurt any less, or make her feel any less a fool.
Now she had to face the future, knowing she would face it alone. She’d learned to go on once before, and she could do it again. But, oh, how she missed Sal. He was a part of her, a part she couldn’t seem to let go of. Not seeing him didn’t ease the loneliness. He was in her mind and in her heart, and always would be.
She had to come to terms with the fact that her whole life had been a lie. She no longer knew whom or what to believe. Shame burned her cheeks.
The man she thought loved her, didn’t. The man she thought she could trust, she couldn’t. Perhaps that was what hurt the most: the fact that Sal had betrayed her. She’d let herself fall in love with him and then found out that in his own way, he’d lied and deceived her. So much for her own good judgment about men.
Sal’s absence was obvious. Not everyone knew what had happened, but still they all rallied around her, giving her love and support just as they always had. Mr. Finucci had even invited her to the movies again, this time offering to pay. And Mr. Benedetto stopped by every evening during his walk to invite her along. Rosina and Florina hovered around her, watching and waiting. She loved them all, but this was something she had to handle on her own.
She moved to the register, offering her customer a smile and making change for his twenty. Mrs. Altero came into the store, smiling and waving.
“Annie, I’ve just made some wonderful prune pudding. Why don’t you come over and try some?”
Annie’s stomach rippled. Mrs. Altero had been trying to tempt her—or poison her—with gastronomical oddities all week. Annie steadfastly refused. Of all the things that would make her feel better, prune pudding was definitely not high on the list. “I’d love to,” Annie lied, softening her words with a smile. “But I can’t.” She nodded toward the line at the register. “I’ve got my hands full here and will probably have to work late.”
“Sal’s coming for dinner, tonight.” Mrs. Altero sighed happily. “My granddaughter’s been dying to—” Mrs. Altero slapped a hand over her mouth as Annie’s head snapped up. Her eyes glistened for a moment.
“I’m sorry,” Mrs. Altero whispered, shaking her head. “I forgot. I didn’t mean—”
Annie came around the counter to comfort the woman. “It’s all right, Mrs. Altero. Sal’s got a right to live his own life,” she lied, sud
denly brimming with jealousy.
Smooth, Suave Sal. Her temper simmered. It sure hadn’t taken him any time to get back into the groove. Obviously, what had happened between them meant very little to him. He was just carrying on with his life as if nothing had happened. Well, so could she!
“I hope he gets indigestion,” Annie muttered testily, going back around the counter to finish helping her waiting customers.
Once everyone had been taken care of and the deli was quiet again, Annie glanced around. She felt an overwhelming sadness, mixed with love. Everything was so familiar, so much the same, but so changed. Her life was so empty without Sal.
Despite what Sal had done, she knew she would never stop loving him. Her heart flipped over just thinking of him. With Sal, what she felt was fire and heat and an intense longing to be with him forever.
The knowledge of her love for him only added to her despair. Annie suddenly felt bone tired, wishing the day would end.
She worked quietly, dusting shelves, placing orders for stock, doing her books. Late in the day she glanced up from the register to see a dark blue sedan pull up to the curb across the street. Her heart began to pound. She only knew one person who drove that kind of car. Fumbling with the cash drawer, she slammed it shut, waiting to see if he would come in.
Holding her breath, she pretended to be deeply engrossed in a case of tomatoes that had just arrived, looking up every time the door opened, hoping against hope it would be him. But after several long minutes, Annie realized he wasn’t going to come in, he wasn’t even going to try to see her. He was going to have dinner with Mrs. Altero’s granddaughter.
“Annie, Florina and I have some things to do this afternoon. Would you mind if we left?”
Annie glanced up at Rosina in surprise. In all the years the twins had worked for her, they’d never asked to leave early. It was odd.
“No, of course not.” She watched the twins whispering as they pulled off their aprons and collected their handbags.
Annie worked quietly, occasionally glancing up. Near dusk, she looked up to find Mr. Benedetto carrying a large case of fruit into Mrs. Altero’s house. Annie frowned. What on earth was going on? Sal’s car was still parked outside, along with half a dozen others. Annie felt a twinge of hurt. Something was going on in the neighborhood, something that she obviously hadn’t been included in.
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