At Last

by Mindy McKinley

“And crazy good in bed,” she pointed out, drawing an even bigger grin.

  He kissed her. “That, my love, is because you inspire me.”

  Her heart stopped.

  He reddened, his words catching up to him. “I mean ...”

  “You mean I’m incredibly sexy,” she joked, letting him off the hook. Even though it made her want to crawl out of her skin to refrain from demanding to know what he meant by ‘my love’, it wasn’t the right time. For now, she would savor the words, tuck them in her heart, and use them when she was feeling sad.

  “I don’t think ‘incredibly’ is strong enough,” he said, kissing her again. “Astonishingly? Unsurpassingly? Mind-blowingly? I think those are better.”

  She gave him a saucy smile and ran her hand down his chest, his stomach, to his cock. “Maybe instead of trying to find the right word, you just show me.”

  “Oh, Miss Stanley,” he growled, sweeping her up into his arms, “I do like the way you think.”

  Chapter 31

  Dominic

  As Dom settled in to get some work done on Saturday he kept thinking about his feelings toward Lula. He had slipped and used the L-word. Not in the way that really meant something, but it was out there, and he knew she noticed. She was too smart not to catch that.

  She had been gracious enough to let it slide, but his brain was not doing the same thing. Did he love her? What was love, exactly? And how did a person know for sure?

  He knew exactly zero of the answers to those questions, but the one thing he kept circling back around to was that he had never felt this way about anyone before. Not even close. Lula had become essential to his everyday life. All his thoughts and all the things he wanted to share took him to Lula first, and that had to mean something.

  He thought briefly about asking his mother for advice, but he had put strain on their normally easy relationship.

  Not to mention, she’d also be beside herself at the thought that he might even consider being in love. That was a cat that would never get back in the bag.

  Chaz, Mason, and Seb would be no help at all; none of them had had relationships longer than six months at a time. For Seb it was more like six minutes.

  So it looked like he was navigating this on his own.

  After staring blankly at his computer screen for most of the morning, he got up from his desk to make a sandwich. The first thing he did was text his girl.

  DOM: Hey beautiful, how are you?

  LULA: I’m okay, just trying to get some laundry done and catch up on papers. How’s the research coming?

  DOM: Slow

  There was a pause before she sent another text.

  LULA: I’ve been thinking about my father ...

  His gut clenched. He had been worried about this. His sandwich had lost its appeal.

  DOM: Yeah?

  LULA: Yeah. I think I want to meet him.

  Shit.

  DOM: What made your mind up?

  LULA: Nan. I just don’t want to be alone.

  His heart kicked painfully at how lost she must be feeling and, more surprisingly, how much it hurt that she didn’t consider him a part of her life.

  DOM: I’m here, Lu.

  LULA: I know, and I am grateful you are, but I mean family.

  He knew that but it didn’t make his chest feel any less compressed.

  Why couldn’t he be happy for her? It didn’t make sense. It wouldn’t change anything between them; it could potentially improve her life, so why did his whole body rebel against the idea?

  DOM: I understand, babe. I want to go with you when you do, though. Is that okay?

  The thought of her going alone tortured him with a million horrors.

  LULA: Of course it is, I was hoping you would.

  He let out a sigh of relief.

  DOM: We’ll make a plan tonight, want me to bring dinner?

  LULA: PLEASE!!! Pizza?

  DOM: Hamburger, extra cheese?

  LULA: You know me so well.

  He did. And he loved it.

  After he threw his uneaten sandwich away, Dom was able to get actual, tangible work done.

  After three hours he shot up from his desk in shock and shook his head, staring down at the papers in front of him in disbelief. He now had two of the three names of Menotti’s Stella d’Italia ring.

  Two names that had heretofore been unknown. Two names that would change everything about the Menotti story.

  It was exhilarating, unheard of, and fucking awful. Those two names were Sal Castiglione and Lorenzo Bellini. The two men smiling out of that eerie photo alongside Giuseppe Zetticci.

  He hadn’t found a single suggestion, not even a whisper, that Giuseppe was the third member, but he had a strong gut feeling he could be. Which would mean Lula’s father, by association, might not just be a member of the mob but one of the upper-tier, a doer, a man with very, very dirty hands.

  The thought of Lula being anywhere near him made his blood run cold. He had to protect her, but how did he go about telling her? About making sure she was safe?

  It was not going to be a conversation he was going to enjoy having, but it was absolutely essential. She needed to know.

  He attempted to craft a plan, knowing full well that she was tender at the moment and feeling more alone than she ever had. But by the time he got to her house with the pizza, he had imagined at least fifty-seven ways in which she could end up dead or tortured at the hands of the mob.

  He could barely function; he wasn’t even sure how he got to her house. All he knew was that he had to stop her from meeting him. It was a panic he couldn’t quite explain.

  “Hey, handsome,” she said happily, opening the door for him. Her expression fell when she saw his face. “What’s wrong?”

  He kissed her. “Hey, beautiful. Everything’s fine. I just wanted to talk to you about something and I’m not sure how to do it.”

  He saw a thousand emotions cross her face.

  “It’s about your father,” he said quickly, just to erase any thoughts outside of that. It stung a little that her mind would go so quickly in that direction, but he shook it off and set the pizza down on the coffee table where she had set out plates and napkins.

  She sat down slowly next to him, completely disinterested in the pizza, and stared at him with her huge amber eyes. With a swallow she asked, “What is it?”

  He rubbed his hands on his thighs, trying to think of a way to tell her that wouldn’t hurt her or scare her. But his words failed him, and he simply blurted, “I think your father might be connected to the mob. The Menotti family in particular.”

  Her face blanched and she shook her head slightly as if she were confused. Her eyebrows knitted together. “Really? Why do you think that?”

  He took a deep breath. “You know how I’ve been trying to figure out Menotti’s inner ring, his doers?”

  She nodded.

  “Well, I found proof of the identity of two of them today. Sal Castiglione and Lorenzo Bellini.”

  She blinked, not following.

  He went on.

  “When we were at Zetticci’s the other night, there was a photo of Sal, Lorenzo, and Giuseppe Zetticci at the front of the restaurant.”

  She stared.

  “I think your great-grandfather might have been the third member, Lu.”

  She looked at her hands for a moment. “Have you found any evidence that it’s him?”

  “Not direct, smoking-gun evidence, but I think it looks pretty clear that ...”

  She cut him off with a hard look. “So you have no evidence?”

  He let out a sigh. “Not per se, just a suspicious connection and a gut feeling.”

  “Let me get this straight,” she started, he could see the angry flare of her nose and he knew he was in trouble, “just because my great-grandfather was in a photo with Sal and what’s-his-name, you think my father is a member of the mob?”

  He knew it was paper-thin, but he had to be honest, “Yes, Lu. I do. I’ve been wo
rking with this story for so long that it just seems to fit.”

  “Seems to fit,” she repeated with a clipped tone.

  “Lula, I realize that this seems circumstantial at best, but I’m afraid for you, I think ...” He took a deep breath. This was already going downhill fast and his next part could very well set off a bomb. “I think this is why your mother never told you about him. I ... I think you should stay away from your father.”

  “What?” She rocketed off the sofa, knocking the pizza over on the way up. Her face was red, her body trembling. “How can you suggest that? How can you take away the only family I might have left after I just lost Nan?”

  “Lu,” he said, standing and trying to reach for her. She jerked away. “I’m simply worried about your safety,” he pleaded.

  “And what right do you have to be worried about my safety?” she demanded. “You think you can just walk into my life, fuck me a few times, and then think you can tell me what I can and can’t do with my life?”

  “Lula,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm. A panic started to creep up his esophagus. He had expected her to be angry, but he hadn’t expected this. “You know you’re more to me than that.”

  “Right,” she said sarcastically, spinning away from him.

  He caught her arm. “Lula.”

  “No!” she bit, ripping her arm from his grasp. “It’s too much. You can’t do this. You can’t ask me to give away my one chance at family.”

  Full-on panic hit his gut. He didn’t know how to make her see reason, to make her see how much he really cared for her. “That’s not what I’m trying to do, Lu, I’m trying—”

  She cut him off, “I don’t care.”

  “Lu,” he pleaded.

  “No. Get out.” She marched over to the front door and held it open. “Get out of my house!”

  Time slowed down. He felt sick. “You don’t mean that.”

  She set her jaw in a rigid line and stared at him. “I do.”

  He stared back, the determination in her voice, in her eyes, made him feel as if his whole world was crumbling. He didn’t understand what was happening. Everything felt sideways. “But Lula, I ...”

  “Get out!” she screamed, tears spilling over her lashes, and then she took him even lower when she sobbed. “Please just get out, just go.”

  What else could he do? He was angry, indignant, hurt, breaking ... all in one. Slowly, he made his way toward her. He longed to pull her into his arms, kiss sense into her, but she simply shook her head no.

  “Lu,” he tried again.

  “Just. Go.”

  He met her eyes; they were hard-set, glowing with tears. His heart cracked and fell apart. After a moment he just said, “Call me if you need anything. Please, Lu.”

  She stared at the floor.

  Not knowing what else to do, he left her there and flinched when the door slammed behind him.

  His world spun on its axis and he felt as if he wasn’t even inside of his body as he made his way to his car. Lula had kicked him out.

  He couldn’t breathe. He clamored into his car and gripped onto his steering wheel, trying to process all of the thousand emotions coursing through him. “Fuck!” he yelled as tears burned his eyes. He slammed his palms on the wheel. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

  Chapter 32

  Lula

  Lula paced her house frantically, trying to work out the anger she felt boiling inside her. How dare he ask her such a thing? He knew, he fucking knew what having a family meant to her, how losing Nana had absolutely gutted her.

  And to come here with no actual proof? She couldn’t even fathom why he would do that to her. Was it to push her away? An elaborate plan to get away from her without guilt?

  Well it fucking worked. She didn’t care if she looked at his face ever again.

  Fucking bastard.

  She didn’t need him; she could make a family with her father without his help, especially if she conveniently forgot about how he helped her find him in the first place.

  She shook the thought from her head. It didn’t matter. He was wrong, wrong for asking such an impossible thing of her.

  After all, she was a big girl. All she had to do was march into Zetticci’s and ask to talk to him. It wasn’t as if it would be difficult to convince anyone. She was the spitting image of her father.

  She would go. Tomorrow.

  Because right now she felt the overwhelming urge to cry her eyes out. She sent a text to Amy.

  LULA: Can you come over?

  AMY: Everything okay, doll?

  LULA: No.

  AMY: Be right there.

  And she was. Twenty minutes later she was picking Lula up off the floor, doing her best to calm her while trying to make sense out of the situation.

  “Where’s Dom?” she asked, settling Lula onto the sofa. She looked at the upturned pizza box with concern.

  “I made him leave,” she cried, bursting into another series of sobs.

  “Oh, sweetie,” Amy sat next to her. “Tell me what happened. Did he do anything I need to report to the police? Because I will. Or better yet, I’ll go shoot him myself.”

  She laughed sadly, so relieved that Amy had come. “No, he didn’t do anything like that.”

  “Then why are you so upset? Tell me everything.”

  Lula sniffled and then did her best to explain what had happened with Dom.

  “Can you believe that?” Lula asked when she had finished.

  “That he is worried about your safety? Yes, Lu, I can believe it. But I can also understand why you’re angry.”

  A breath of relief escaped her. She knew her friend would understand; she knew she was right about this.

  “If you want to go talk to your father, I understand,” Amy continued. “But I do think you should take someone with you. I’ll go if you want me to.”

  She growled and collapsed back into the sofa. “Why does everyone think I can’t handle this on my own?”

  “Lula, calm down, no one thinks you can’t handle this. It’s about safety.”

  Lula pulled a face.

  Amy sighed. “Let’s just watch a bad movie and relax, okay? We can worry about all this tomorrow with clear heads. How does that sound?”

  She wanted to argue but let out a defeated breath, she was suddenly so so so very tired. She gave in. “Fine.” Then curled up next to her friend. She fell promptly asleep watching their favorite 80’s romance.

  Dominic

  Dom spent the entire night alternating between staring at the wall and pacing circles around his living room. He kept replaying the scene with Lula trying to figure out where he went wrong, and he just couldn’t understand why she got so angry with him.

  He knew she wasn’t going to take it well, but this ... this was way out of left field. Not only had she thrown him out of her house, she had ignored every one of his texts and calls since then.

  It was the worst feeling he had ever had, like his heart had shriveled up, like his lungs were working against him. It hurt so bad he couldn’t breathe. He was desperate to go over there, but Amy had picked up the phone somewhere in the middle of the night and suggested he just lay low a bit, let her calm down.

  As if he could just calm down. If he could fucking calm down, he would have done it hours ago.

  By the time Sunday afternoon rolled around he was out of his mind. He hated not knowing what she was up to, not knowing if she was safe, if she was with her father at that fucking moment.

  Relief only came when Amy sent him a quick text to tell him they were staying in for the day. He almost collapsed with it. He thanked her and asked that she keep him updated if she was comfortable doing that. She was.

  He really did owe her this time.

  When evening came around and his phone still lay aggravatingly silent, he caved and called his mother.

  “Mom,” he said, so very close to losing his mind, “I need your help.”

  “Of course, dear,” she answered, her voice laden w
ith concern. It immediately brought him a modicum of calm.

  “I know I’ve been rude and hardheaded with Steve, and I’m sorry, but I ...”

  “Dominic James, will you please just tell me what is wrong? Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

  “No.” He took a deep breath and felt tears stinging the back of his eyes again. “I’m fine. It’s about Lula.”

  “Oh, sweetheart,” she said. “Tell me please, is she okay?”

  He launched into a winding ramble about the situation, trying to make sense of a very convoluted story and ended with her epic blow up. “I honestly don’t know what to do, Mom. I feel like I’m coming out of my skin.”

  “Oh, Dom,” she said softly. “You love her, don’t you?”

  He froze. Did he? He thought about the possibility of never seeing her again and the pain that followed gave him his answer. What would the purpose of going on without her even be? He took a deep breath. “Yeah, I think I really do.”

  She let out a breath and he could almost hear her smile. “And she loves you too, sweetheart, I could see it in her eyes when you brought her to dinner.”

  Her declaration filled him with hope. He had thought he had seen the same thing. But what now? “But what do I do now? I don’t know what to do. Was I wrong?”

  “No, honey, you weren’t wrong. Your heart is clearly in the right place, and I think you have every reason to be concerned for her safety. I think the problem is timing, with her just losing her grandmother, she is probably feeling more alone than ever.”

  “I know, and I knew that going in, but she wanted to meet him so quickly that I didn’t think I could wait.”

  “And you also brought your concern to her without finding any absolute proof.”

  His shoulders dropped in defeat. “Yeah.”

  “Think about how this might have made her feel, maybe almost as if you were attacking the only family she had left. It might not be rational, but honey, I don’t think Lula’s in the right place right now for making rational decisions. She’s raw and emotional.”

  She was right. “So what do I do?”

  “It’s not that hard. Find the proof you need, make sure it is undeniable, show her, and for the love of God, tell her you love her.”