Family Ties (Morelli Family, #4)

by Sam Mariano

  Smiling sweetly, she leans into me to give me a kiss. It’s the same light, reserved, close-mouthed kiss like she’s given me each time until now and I’ve been fine with that up until today. Today it isn’t enough. Bracing my hand on the back of her head, I pull her closer, guiding her until she’s sitting on my lap facing me, straddling me, her knees on either side of my body. When her lips remain closed, I urge her with my mouth to open them. I want her to let me inside, in every way. I want into her body, her heart, her mind, her soul, her life. I want to bring an army with me to clear out every last dark corner, to repair every single wound that’s ever been inflicted.

  Just a few minutes ago, Francesca asked if I believed in love at first sight and I told her no.

  Love at third date, though. There might be something to that.

  Chapter Six

  “This is cruel and unusual punishment.”

  Mark shakes his head, passing a bag of chips to Maddie and leaning forward to respond to Francesca. “You’re going to love it. It’s hilarious.”

  Maddie rolls her eyes, looking beside her at Francesca. “He’s lying to you. It’s not hilarious. It’s stupid, indulgent douchebaggery.”

  Francesca grins. “I hate it already.”

  “You’ve only seen the opening sequence,” I tell her, lightly elbowing her in the side. “You swore you’d give it a chance.”

  Maddie sighs dramatically. “I’m losing so many brain cells right now. When you invited me over for dinner, you should’ve added that I’d have to watch Entourage.”

  “Whatever, this show is a blast,” Mark tells her.

  “A blast to my brain cells, yes.”

  Mark rolls his eyes. “You can pick the next thing we watch.”

  “No,” I interrupt quickly. “He’s joking, that’s not a real offer.”

  Maddie grins. “Too late, he already said it.”

  I sigh dramatically. “Mark… what have you done?”

  “Does she have terrible taste?” Mark asks.

  “You’ve met Isaac.”

  “Hey,” Maddie objects, scowling at me. “He used to be less of a douche than he turned out to be. And don’t even get me started on your vapid, bullshit exes. We can talk about them if you want to, I’m sure Francesca would love to hear all about them.”

  “I would,” Francesca chirps.

  Mark snickers and grabs the chip bag back from Maddie. “Give me those, thief.”

  “You gave them to me,” she points out.

  “I offered them. I was being polite. I didn’t think you’d keep them.”

  Francesca adds, “I don’t understand why you guys are eating chips when there’s a pizza in the oven anyway.”

  “Um, we’re pre-gaming,” Mark says.

  “Obviously,” Maddie adds.

  Shaking his head, Mark looks at Maddie and shakes his head. “Can you believe her? She doesn’t know about pre-dinner snacks.”

  Maddie nods with mock sympathy. “What kind of tragic life do you lead, Francesca?”

  Francesca smiles. “Well, we have formal dinners every night. I’ve literally never done this before. Usually the maids bring out all the courses, and we sit at a formal dining table at the same seats each night, even if not everyone shows up; it’s a whole thing. Deciding literally today on pizza and salads, sitting on the couch eating potato chips before dinner—this would never happen in my house.”

  “Jesus,” Mark says, shaking his head.

  “They dress up, too,” I add.

  “Dressing up could be fun sometimes,” Maddie offers. “I love to get all dolled up.”

  “Yeah, but it’s every night,” Francesca says. “Like, without exception.”

  “I’m pretty sure she was ready to marry me when she showed up at my house last time and I was wearing jeans for dinner,” I tell them.

  Francesca rolls her eyes. “Okay, that might be a slight exaggeration.”

  “You were ready to attack me. I saw visions of babies dancing in your eyes.”

  “Remember how we talked about you making me injure my optic nerves? This is the kind of thing I was talking about.”

  “You should wear jeans to dinner at your house one night, just to see what happens,” Maddie advises Francesca.

  This idea seems to amuse her. “Mateo would probably make me go change.”

  Maddie shakes her head. “That’s nuts. Your brother’s crazy hot though; I’d dress up to have dinner with him.”

  With a snort of disbelief, I tell her, “Over my dead body.”

  She rolls her eyes at me. “Isaac you were okay with, but Mateo Morelli’s a dealbreaker?”

  “You know he killed his last girlfriend, right?”

  Shrugging, Maddie says, “She turned snitch, what was he supposed to do?”

  “This conversation is over. I know you’re joking, but it makes me sweat just thinking about it.”

  “Whatever. This show’s horrible,” Maddie announces. “Let’s turn it off.”

  “Maybe you think it’s horrible because you haven’t shut up since it started,” Mark suggests.

  “Maybe I think it’s horrible because it’s horrible,” Maddie responds.

  “You’re horrible.”

  In what I can only assume is a bad impression of Mark’s voice, Maddie says, “You’re horrible.”

  Leaning forward to look over at me, Mark says, “Do something about your sister.”

  “Please, you love when I come over,” she states, stealing the bag of potato chips again.

  “Love is a strong, strong word.”

  Francesca pushes up off the couch. “I’m going to go check on the pizza.”

  I’m so damn tempted to offer to come help, it’s ridiculous. Mostly I just want a minute alone with her, so as soon as she leaves the living room I suddenly realize I need a new drink, and I head in the kitchen.

  She’s bent over the oven, peeking inside, when I come in.

  “Nice view,” I tell her.

  Smiling at me over her shoulder, she says, “You missed me that much, huh?”

  Hardly even joking, I walk up behind her and wrap my arms around her waist. “I always miss you. I didn’t come in here for you, though. I was just really, really thirsty.”

  Nodding, playing along as she turns in my arms and wraps her arms around my neck, she says, “Yeah, I bet you were.”

  I smile down at her. “Hi.”

  Grinning right back at me, she says, “Hi.”

  I have to kiss her. It would physically pain me not to. I give her a few little kisses, loving the feel of her soft lips brushing against mine, then I pull back just enough to look at her. “Do you like Maddie?”

  “I do, she’s fun. I like watching her torture Mark.”

  That makes me smile. “Maddie tortures everyone. It’s part of her charm.”

  “Must run in the family,” she teases.

  “Hey, I don’t torture you.”

  Francesca rolls her eyes. “I meant the charm. I was giving you a compliment and you totally ruined it.”

  “Sorry,” I murmur, leaning in for another kiss.

  “We should probably get back in there,” she tells me.

  “I need to run something by you first. I have an idea for a date I think you’ll like, but I need a big chunk of time. All day. We’ve gotta leave early, like you’re working at the bakery, and come back way late, like you’re working past close. Think you could pull that off?”

  Nodding, she says, “Sure, as long as I have notice. Everyone knows I work at the bakery, no one really watches my comings and goings too hard. I could just mention that I have to stay late to do inventory or something so I won’t be home for dinner. Where are you taking me?”

  “It’s a surprise. See if you can get it covered one day next week, ideally Monday or Tuesday. I’ve got some stuff on Wednesday that would be hard to move around.”

  “I can probably do Monday,” she tells me.

  “Perfect.”

  “Do I get a hin
t? I feel like I should at least get a hint.”

  “Wear comfy shoes.”

  Seeming to consider that, she says, “Can I have a second hint?”

  Lightly squeezing her side, I say, “No, you cannot have a second hint.”

  “But I called you charming.”

  “You get no brownie points for acknowledging facts.”

  Sighing heavily, she places a hand dramatically over her eyes. “Optic nerves, it was nice having you around for 28 years. I’m sorry it had to end like this.”

  “It’s your fault, you fed the monster,” I tell her.

  “Well, I don’t date arrogant men, so you’re going to have to work on that.”

  I pause, eyebrows rising. Even though we are obviously dating, I’m surprised to hear her admit it so easily. “How about confident men?” I offer. “You say arrogant, I say confident.”

  She shakes her head, but she’s clearly amused. “Nope, you’ve definitely drifted over that line, buddy.”

  I drop my hands from her waist, letting them drift down to her hips. “I can think of a few other lines I’d like to cross.”

  Tugging my hands off her hips in a show of playfulness, she turns around and takes a couple steps away, back toward the living room. “I’m going back to our guests.”

  Our guests? I like the sound of that. I mean, the woman still pulls away anytime I try to get too close to her, but she’s admitting to dating me and calling my sister and friend our guests, so I guess that’s something.

  ---

  Francesca leaves before Mark or Maddie. She has to have a second dinner at her house, since she was supposed to be at work. I think it went really well, though. I’m really glad she got to meet Maddie. It’s not typical for my family to meet women I’m involved with anyway, but after talking to her at the bed and breakfast, I wish I could give Francesca the things she’s missed out on. My family may not be the best ever, but it sounds like they’re an improvement over hers.

  Granted, realizing she needs that makes it clear I’m the least suitable person to be with her. I don’t like to think about that, since growing this relationship isn’t the smartest move either of us could make. Stopping isn’t even a considerable option, though. I’m going with my gut on this one, and my gut says to keep her. Francesca makes me happy. I feel like she needs my protection, and even if she doesn’t, I want to give it to her anyway. I want to know more about her dreams and her life, I want to make her smile, and have pizza on the couch with her while we watch TV shows with Maddie and Mark. I loved today. I love the time we spend together, and it seems like she does, too.

  “She’s sweet.”

  I look over at Maddie, leaning her hip against the counter, holding a beer bottle in her hand. “Yeah?”

  She nods, watching me. “You really seem to like her.”

  “I do.”

  “Like, you’re smitten,” she adds, her smile widening as she takes a sip. “I haven’t seen you smitten since you were in high school and you went for that awful Tanya girl.”

  I roll my eyes. “Francesca’s a million times superior to Tanya.”

  “Well, sure, Tanya was an immature, game-playing little shit. But at the time, you thought the sun shone out of her asshole.”

  Leveling her an unamused look, I say, “Stop.”

  Mark is at a chair at the island, somehow eating again. Popping a cashew into his mouth, he says, “Wait, who’s Tanya? Sal’s usually all James Bond with the ladies.”

  “I wasn’t born with all this game, okay?” I shoot back.

  “He got totally played by this evil she-demon in high school,” Maddie tells him.

  “He doesn’t need these details,” I inform her. “It was high school. I’m 30 years old.”

  “She was the worst,” Maddie summarizes. “I’m biased, but she was.”

  Mark sighs, shaking a handful of cashews and glancing up at us. “Are you guys really going to make me be the voice of reason? She’s a Morelli. You’re a Castellanos. Where’s this gonna go?” Before I can answer, he holds up a hand to stop me. “And even if you only want to hook up with her and stop before it turns into a Shakespearean tragedy, it’s a huge risk. Mateo could find out, your dad could find out—I don’t even know which would be worse, truth be told, but either scenario could happen.”

  Although it seems like she hates to agree with Mark, Maddie grimaces faintly. “Dad does loathe the Morelli family.”

  “And Mateo is pretty ruthless,” Mark adds. “He ever steps foot into the bakery long enough to get a weird vibe off me and I’m fucked.”

  I run the pizza pan under the faucet, then stick it in the dishwasher. “This is still new. We’re not getting married or anything.”

  “I get that, but it’s not crazy to consider where it might lead,” Maddie points out. “If you both like each other but it can’t go anywhere, aren’t you only opening yourself up to pain?”

  This aggravates me, because I’ve had the same thought. Not about myself—I can handle a little pain, but after what Francesca went through with that other douchebag, the last thing I ever want to do is be another asshole who hurts her.

  “This is a premature concern,” I inform them, taking a firmer tone, in hopes they’ll leave it alone.

  “I disagree,” Mark states. “I’ve never seen you work so hard for a chick before.”

  “Is it work if you enjoy it?” I shoot back.

  “So, what happens if you fall in love with her?” Maddie asks me. “You can’t marry her, you can’t have kids, and Ma’s never going to stop bothering you about doing both of those things. So, what, then? Do you marry some other woman our parents will approve of and keep Francesca as a mistress?”

  The scowl she earns with this remark is a little mean, for a look aimed at Maddie. “Fuck no.”

  Eyebrows rising, she holds a hand up. “Whoa, tiger.”

  “I’m not Dad; I’m not going to do bullshit like that. That’s fucking insulting.”

  “I obviously agree with you, I’m just… I mean, it doesn’t feel like there’s a best case scenario here.”

  “If I fall in love with Francesca and our relationship develops into something more, we’ll deal with it then.”

  “That’s not a plan, though,” she points out. “That’s just putting off the inevitable and digging yourself a deeper hole to fall into.”

  Mark nods. “And while baking cakes is definitely a nice change of pace, how long am I going to have to stay there? I mean, when are you not going to want to protect Francesca?”

  “You’re getting the same pay, whether you’re at the bakery or not.”

  “But I can’t do much real work for your family as long as I’m there. I can’t show up on the Morelli radar. I more or less am just a baker right now. Your dad might start noticing how useless I am and wonder why he’s paying me.”

  “Then I’ll pay you,” I tell him.

  “I think you know money isn’t the real problem here,” he states.

  “You’re both wasting your breath,” I state, popping a tablet in the dishwasher and closing the door. “I’m not going to stop seeing Francesca, and as long as I am seeing her, she needs a bodyguard. I wanted you guys to meet her and see that she’s great, not try to talk me out of anything.”

  Softening somewhat, Maddie says, “She is great. I really liked her. I’m only trying to be sensible. I love you and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  “And I’ve been spending time with her, so I kind of already figured out she’s great,” Mark adds. “But I think she may be more a fantasy than a realistic possibility.”

  “I decide how my life goes,” I state, immovably. “Not my family. Not her family. I decide.”

  Maddie and Mark exchange looks, neither of them looking especially comfortable with this assertion, but they’re pissing me off and I don’t care. Maybe Francesca and I will fizzle out on our own, maybe we won’t, but one thing’s for damn sure: I won’t let either of our families be the reason I can’t
have her.

  Chapter Seven

  “I can’t believe this.”

  Nodding my head, I say, “Good, right? I told you to get the Cuban.”

  Francesca smiles, shaking her head as she picks up an ear of grilled Mexican corn from the shared plate in the center of the table. “Not the food, silly.” Indicating with her free hand around the restaurant, toward the window with the view of the sidewalk outside, she says, “All of this. Bringing me here. This is amazing. You’re amazing.”

  I can’t help grinning at that as I pick up my own sandwich. I was pretty sure today would be a hit, and she doesn’t even know about the grand finale yet.

  Since Francesca deserves to go out on the town but I can’t take her out in our town, I brought her to a different one. Specifically, New York. She met me at my house early this morning, no idea where we were headed, and I took her to the airport. To say she was hesitant would be a major understatement, but I told her to trust me. I guess she did, ‘cause she got on the plane with me, and ever since we landed in the Big Apple, she hasn’t stopped smiling.

  When we finish our sandwiches and leave to explore the city, Francesca laces our fingers together, still glowing with pleasure. I figured she would’ve been here before, to be honest, but I guess not. She gets excited over the pretty churches, drags me into little hole-in-the-wall shops, and enjoys the flood of tourists when we hit Times Square.

  As she eats the chocolate I just bought her, she jumps at a passing taxi cab, his horn blaring as he rushes by.

  “Why are they so angry?”

  “New York traffic. That’s just how they drive here.”

  “They need to relax,” she states. “They’re in this gorgeous city, it’s a beautiful day—what do they have to be so mad about?”

  I cock my head, acknowledging her side, but I add, “Well, they’re driving in this clusterfuck of a city, carting around pain in the ass tourists until dark, then they probably have to head back to a one bedroom apartment smaller than your bedroom, which they share with four roommates and pay a small fortune to live in.”

  Nodding, lips pressed firmly together, she says, “Okay, maybe I’m a little out of touch.”