by T. J. Dell
“So much for soft hands! Libby yeled to him as he peeled off his now wet tee shirt. Libby had to remind herself that she was no longer in love with Tony. Because if she had stil been in love with him the sight of him elbowing his way out of that shirt, and the sunshine gleaming off his very wel defined chest would have been enough to make her swoon. In retaliation to her taunting Tony stole his neighbor’s water baloon and beamed Libby in the back with it. This of course resulted in water baloon anarchy, and soon there wasn’t a dry Marchetti in sight.
Tony produced a picnic blanket from somewhere and laid it out on the ground. Libby stretched out on her stomach, letting the sun dry her shirt. Good thing she hadn’t been wearing white. They lay there quietly for awhile. This was one of the things Libby loved about her friendship with Tony. They never felt a need to fil silence. When they did talk Tony asked her opinion on a few story ideas, and then Libby showed Tony how to make poppers out of dandelions. By the time the cal went out for tug-of-war they were both dry and dressed again.
Tug of war was always men against women. You would think that would be unfair. But the Marchetti’s were very heavy on the estrogen and the girls’ team easily doubled the number on the boys’ side. Park regulations kept them from digging a traditional mud pit in the middle of the rope. But they had instead filed an inflatable kiddie pool with what looked like whipped cream. Where would someone purchase that much whipped cream? Geez these people did take their games seriously. Libby made a mental note to remember to bring a change of clothes next year.
And then she made a mental note, to remember that she probably wouldn’t be there next year since Tony was not her date. The men did win, but Libby managed to stay clear of the whipped cream—so it was a personal victory in light of a team loss.
“Are you sure you want to skip the pie?” Tony asked her after they had finished lunch.
“Positive. A lady does not consume multiple pies in one sitting.”
Tony pictured her for a moment with fruit and whipped cream smeared across her mouth. It was a damn shame that Libby was a lady. “Okay, wel then let’s go watch at least. Nick’s pretty good. He’s my bet.”
“I would take that bet. You forget I have seen John eat. The year Mel burnt the turkey? John must have polished off three pies… and that was just for fun. Now his reputation is at stake!”
“You’re on.” Tony leaned against a post in the pavilion. There were no chairs left so he tugged Libby’s back into his chest and settled his hands at her hips. So much better than chairs. “What would you like to bet McKay?”
“Cookies?” Libby suggested wondering if her voice sounded normal.
“Nah. Mine stil suck; I would be too humiliated to pay up if I lost. I tel you what—we’l play for a movie.
You win and I wil watch some sappy musical with you, and if I win you have to watch the matrix with me.”
“High stakes. I don’t suppose I could steer you away from Keanu Reaves? Or perhaps persuade you to make a switch-- Bil and Ted’s excelent adventure?” Tony wondered if she had any idea the images she inspired with words like persuade. He was reasonable sure she could persuade him to do just about anything. “Not a chance.”
Nick and John both lost. Tony declared they would compromise with a Die Hard Marathon.
“Bal time!” Someone belowed from the basebal diamond.
“Let’s go.” Tony tugged Libby towards the softbal game.
“I’m just going to watch.”
“No way, you gotta play this is the best part!”
“I’m not playing. I don’t even think I know al the rules.”
“I forgot, you don’t like team sports. Do you remember when you tried out for cheerleading?” Tony shook his head at the memory. “Okay—let’s take a walk then.”
“No, you go play. I wil watch—and cheer.” Libby teased.
In the end Tony did not play bal. He wanted to, but today was about Libby. So they went for a walk instead. There was a path through a smal strip of woods.
And if Tony remembered correctly there was a creak with a pretty little bridge over it. Holding her hand, Tony stroled slowly down the path. The trees were thick enough that it was darker and quieter than the open area of the park. In fact it was downright romantic. Tony stopped thinking about the missed softbal game.
“What’s that?” Libby pointed into the trees above them.
“I believe that is the rare red-belied-long-tail-wood-swalow!” Tony deadpanned without looking up.
Libby snorted and nudged his chin up with the tips of her fingers.
“Oh tha-at.” Tony said as if only just then realizing his mistake. “That looks like a kite.” Perched just above them a plastic looking kite was lodged in the tree limbs.
“Give me a hand.” Libby was already scrambling up the trunk. Tony hoisted her higher and tried not to stare at her ass… much. It took a little while for Libby to reach the kite, and then another few moments to untangle what was left of the string. For a few horrifying seconds Tony was sure she was going to come crashing down. “Look out below!” The slightly battered kite floated to the ground and Libby began inching backwards on her branch. “Umm… I think this is going to be harder on the way down than on the way up.”
Tony stood beneath her caling instructions and warnings; soon she was shimmying back down the trunk. “I gotcha.” Tony reached out grasp her waist the moment she was within reach.
Twisting as she dropped the rest of the way to the ground Libby ended up in Tony’s arms with her back pressed to tree trunk. Oh this was so much better than softbal! Tony closed the remaining distance between them.
One of his knees pressed between hers; inhaling slowly Tony enjoyed the lavender smel of his Libby. Carefuly Tony enjoyed the lavender smel of his Libby. Carefuly Tony puled a twig from her hair, and cupping a hand along her cheek he leaned towards her—
“What’s that?” Libby was startled out of moment.
Sure enough they began hearing whispered voices--
“There’s a stream with a bridge just a little further down this path.” Tony’s cousin, Nick, was saying as he came into view around a bend. He had one arm wrapped tightly around a blond girl in a pink sundress, and he was nuzzling her neck as they walked.
Tony straightened up puling away from Libby. It almost kiled him, but a gentleman didn’t alow his date to be caught groping in the woods. He waved a little as Nick and his girlfriend passed but he wasn’t sure they even noticed.
“Sounds like Nick has big plans.” Libby joked as she smoothed her clothes and hair.
“Yeah, he’s real original.” Tony responded, edgily.
“Should we see if this thing stil flies?” Tony bent down and scooped up the kite before leading Libby back into the open park.
Chapter sixteen
It had been a month since the Marchetti Family Reunion. Mel and John’s wedding was a little more than two weeks away. Orders had begun flying into the bakery for Dolce-McKay, and Libby was on cloud nine. It seemed that everything in her life was just as she wanted it. Just about. After the family reunion Tony started coming around a lot. Not that that was realy a problem, because Libby loved being with him. They never seemed to run out of things to say to each other, or things to laugh about together. But being so close to him, and having him look at her the way he had in the woods at the park—it was confusing. She didn’t want to be in love with Tony—wel she was pretty sure she didn’t want to be in love with Tony.
As agreed on, Tony organized a Die Hard marathon. They ended up in Stuart’s Family room, because Tony didn’t have living room furniture yet. And somehow Libby found that endearing. Some days Tony would come by the bakery with lunch for two, and once she had renewed her membership at the Y Tony started joining her for morning runs a few days a week. Last week Tony had driven her to the beach, and they had built sand castles.
Being with Tony was becoming an awful lot like breathing—
absolutely necessary.
�
��Man do I have news for you!” Libby always enjoyed when Mel caled—she could almost hear the italics in her friend’s voice.
“What’s that?”
“Guess who I just spoke to on the phone—no you wil never guess—and he’s caling you next.”
“Then I guess you better spil”
“Gio” the name almost exploded through the telephone. “Libby? Helo?”
“Gio? My Gio?” Libby was speechless. Why on earth would Gio be caling Mel? They had written a few letters and emails since Libby had left Rome, but he hadn’t exactly inundated her with transatlantic phone cals. To be honest she had pretty much figured that Gio had forgotten or changed his mind about visiting America or about trying to pursue any type of relationship with her. What had she thought? That he would pack up his life and move just to be with her?
“How many Gio’s do we have in common?”
“To be honest I didn’t think any… why have you been talking to him”
“He’s coming to the wedding!”
Libby dropped her phone. “Sorry—what?”
“I sent him an invitation. It was just a lark realy—
who would have thought he’d say yes? Girl—he must have it bad for you! You totaly downplayed that accent!”
“Cal waiting Mel! Gotta go!”
It was him.
Libby was glad Gio was coming. He had hired a new manager for the restaurant, and classes at the culinary institute were finished for the term. He had laughed at her surprise that he was planning a visit.
“Betta! We talked about this. I said I wanted to see America, and I do. I want to see you. I have cleared my schedule, and I can stay at least a month.” Libby wondered what at least meant.
Gio arrived a few days later, on a Friday morning.
She met him at the airport, and true to her memories—he was devastatingly beautiful. Also true to her memories being with him had a surreal quality. They actualy ran into each other’s arms in the airport. Wel they walked quickly towards each other, but Gio did scoop Libby off her feet for a kiss worthy of any sappy romantic movie. It was a little embarrassing actualy, because people were staring.
“Have you missed me Betta?”
“Of course, Gio!” And she had. It wasn’t Gio’s fault that she hadn’t had time to dwel on how much she missed him.
“Is something the matter?”
“No. No. It’s just—you know – the airport—
people are looking at us…”
“Ah. Do you think Gregory Peck would not have kissed Audrey Hepburn in an airport?”
“Gregory Peck was the American.” Libby corrected him. As if pointing out that dissimilarity discounted his point. They had watched Roman Holiday together many times last year. In the movie the hero was American, and the damsel was European.
“Sorry about…” Libby waved her arm out the glass door indicating where it was cloudy and wet outside.
Libby hated that it was raining. Some time the night before a steady drizzle had soaked the ground and coaxed a bunch of worms out of hiding. Normaly rain didn’t bother Libby but she felt badly that Gio’s first day in America would be so dismal.
He was laughing at her. Libby had almost forgotten how often Gio laughed at her. Also that she found this habit slightly annoying.
“The sun should be out the rest of the week.” Libby added defensively.
“Ah—Mia Betta. Apologizing for the weather?”
“Ah—Mia Betta. Apologizing for the weather?” He was stil chuckling softly as he dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “I have missed you.”
Libby decided to forgive him for laughing at her.
Gio wanted to get checked in at the hotel, and rest after the flight. Libby felt a twinge of guilt that she hadn’t invited him to stay at Stuart’s. Her mom was away teaching a pastry workshop and Stuart had driven up to spend the weekend with her. She felt weird enough staying there alone, but alone with Gio? It would be a bad idea. So they made plans for Libby to pick him up after lunch and she would show him the bakery. Mel and John were also coming in tonight. They would be staying with her parents for two weeks while they saw to the final details of the wedding. Mel desperately wanted to be at the airport when Libby picked Gio up, but she had been molified by a promise that they could al meet up later that evening for drinks at a local bar.
Gio loved the bakery. Libby’s mom loved Gio. So that went wel, she supposed. Next they drove around the town. They saw Libby’s old high school and the park where she and Mel had played as kids. Libby didn’t know why she felt strange showing Gio this part of her life. He certainly didn’t seem bored. He was ful of questions about her childhood, and then about what she had been doing since she returned from Italy, about her catering business.
And then he was ful of advice on new locations for when she was ready to try opening her own shop. Libby wasn’t al together sure she enjoyed having reality elbowing its way into her European adventure.
Later that night when they met up with Mel and John Libby relaxed a little. She liked the bar. It wasn’t any of the ritzy clubs Gio had taken her to, but it wasn’t a dive either. Libby had been here a few times over the last few weeks, and she liked it. The band was always good enough for dancing, but not too loud and the drinks were reasonably priced. Libby thought things were going pretty wel. Gio seemed to get along wel with her friends—even John.
“Right! The European adventure!” John exclaimed with his usual lack of tact when Libby introduced him, as he reached across the table to shake Gio’s hand.
Gio merely arched an eyebrow in Libby’s direction before grasping John’s hand. “I guess that would be me.”
“Ignore him, Gio… everyone else does.” Libby had muttered.
Congratulations are in order?” He changed the subject easily by nodding to where Mel was sitting next to John. “And my best wishes to the bride” it was the perfect tactic. Mel was off a mile a minute about the wedding, and how she had always wanted to be married on the beach. If Mel wasn’t already charmed by him at that point then she was completely won over when he ordered a round of champagne to “toast to her happiness”.
“He is just yummy Lib.” Mel was touching up her lip gloss in the ladies room. “And a great dancer. I do love a man that can dance.” Gio had obligingly twirled Mel around the dance floor when John proclaimed himself much to sober to make a fool of himself. Not that John didn’t dance; he was just more of a shuffler whereas Gio had spent the early part of the evening spinning and dipping Libby with practiced expertise.
“Yeah. He’s terrific.” Libby agreed.
Mel twitched a look at her in the mirror. “You aren’t mad that I invited him right?”
“No. Of course not. I am glad he’s here.” Libby protested
“Okay, good. Because I can tel he adores you.” Mel turned around snapping her hand bag shut. “Tony is going to drop by.” She mentioned not so offhandedly.
This was a pretty big surprise. Libby hadn’t seen Tony since Wednesday when they went out for ice cream.
That was when Libby told him that Gio was coming into town, and Tony had been acting sorta weird ever since.
She’d gone back and forth between hoping it was jealousy, and being irritated since he had long ago forfeited his right to be jealous. Tony had made it very clear what type of relationship he would be interested in—and Libby wasn’t interested.
“Good. That’s good he can meet Gio.”
Back at the table John was fervently trying to convince Gio of basebal’s superiority over al other sports.
Libby recognized the quirk of a smile on Gio’s face, and Libby recognized the quirk of a smile on Gio’s face, and knew he was more amused than anything else by John.
Maybe, she thought, Americans were funnier than she had realized.
When Tony walked through the door Mel waved widely over her head to get his attention. “Gee, I’m so glad a found you, sis, in this sea of people” Tony teased as he surveyed the half emp
ty room.
“Ha-ha very funny.” She swatted him, and puled out a chair next to her for him to sit down. Tony ignored her and puled out the chair on the other side of Libby.
For some reason this introduction was more awkward. Actualy Libby knew the reason, but she pushed it aside and tried to act normal. The funny thing about acting normal is that you have to be a realy good actor.
“The chef.” Tony acknowledged as he nodded deeply.
“The writer.” Gio’s voice was gruff.
“That’s right. My third novel just made the best seler list.” Tony was clearly going for a practiced, bored tone of voice, but his excitement won out.
The table erupted in conversation. Mel and Libby threw their arms around Tony in a three person hug, and John hooted his congratulations. Grinning and laughing, Tony was saying how he had known it was a possibility, but he’d just gotten the cal from his agent that morning and it was low on the list, but on the list was al that mattered.
With a flick of his hand to the waitress Gio ordered another round of celebratory champagne. Later John would end up drinking Tony’s untouched glass.
“Mia Betta. You have very talented friends.”
“I do indeed.” Libby was too ful of pride for Tony to take notice of Gio’s change in demeanor.
“What did you cal her?” Mel gushed from her end of the table.
“It’s my name in Italian.” Libby shrugged blushing.
“Gio says everything sounds nicer in Italian.”
“It isn’t only her name.” Tony muttered so low that Libby was able to pretend she hadn’t heard him.
The moment was quickly swept away as Mel demanded an impromptu Italian lesson. Gio politely supplied her with translations of any and al phrases she could think of. “He’s right! Everything does sound nicer!” Her eyes suddenly got wider. “John! Let’s do our vows in Italian! It would be so romantic.”
“Anything you say babe, but it might be nice if our families were able to understand what we’re saying. Hel—
I’d kind of like to understand it myself. Plus I already learned the English ones.” Mel’s face fel a little.
