“That’s Miss Brooks’ boyfriend. The poor guy got it good from Mikey. Yesterday he was at the school and Mikey barreled into him with his hands covered in paint, and… well… let’s say he left his imprints framing Luca’s manhood in an embarrassing way. Khaki pants, blue and green paint.” I cringed as hard at the memory as I had when it happened.
“Wait—I just got a visual. Let me enjoy this.”
“Shut up. It was mortifying. And for Mikey’s second attack, today Luca got a ball square between the eyes.”
“I’d like his balls square between my—”
“Becky!” I scanned the area, grateful that none of the parents appeared to have heard her.
“What?”
“That’s your son’s teacher’s boyfriend.”
“You know that for a fact?” She swung her gaze their way and tsk’d. “They’re not touching. Maybe they’re just friends.”
I followed her eye line. Luca watched the game intently while Cassie fiddled with her phone. “Doubtful, she said she loved him.”
“So? Love is bullshit, I should know.” Luca turned his head in our direction, and if there was any doubt we were talking about him Becky’s flirty little wave squashed it. “Damn, that man is hot as fuck. My God, look at that face.”
“Stop staring at him. It doesn’t matter, he’s taken. And stop distracting me, we’re here to watch our kids play,” I snipped, turning my attention back to the game.
“I’d rather watch him,” Becky muttered, and I really couldn’t blame her.
By closing my eyes, I could still picture his face along with his body perfectly. Not to mention, his deep voice with an accent that made everything he said sound romantic. The visual caused me to sigh, not going unnoticed by Becky. Ignoring her, I squinted and pretended to be concentrating on the field.
Crap, it’d been a long time since a man had stolen my focus.
The rest of the game went much like the first half: no goals, no progress made, and no sense of order. When the final whistle blew, like rockets, both teams shot over to the mom in charge of their snacks.
Noticing the way Cassie and Luca were together, an irrational jealousy took hold as I watched them laughing in a carefree manner. I couldn’t remember the last time I laughed like that, and then my jealousy turned to sadness.
“Mom, can you hold these?” Mikey asked, with a juice box and a small package of Oreos in hand. “Tommy’s mom brought the good stuff today.”
“Sure, honey.” He dropped the good stuff in my lap and sprinted toward Luca without another word.
“Mikey!” I called after him, not deterring him in the slightest. Once he got there, he flailed his arms in full-out animation as Luca squatted listening, laughing, and smiling. For some unknown reason, the easy connection between them warmed my heart.
“Becky, I gotta go. Thanks for the loan of the chair,” I said as I grabbed my bag off the back of it. “I’ll call you,” I added before trotting over to them. Feeling like I was intruding on their reunion, I stepped right up to my son. “Michael Dillon Callahan, you know the rules. You don’t run away without telling me where you’re going and asking if it’s okay.”
“Sorry, Mommy. I just really, really, wanted to tell Luca that my coach said I played good today.” My sweet boy… starving for male attention.
“You did play well,” Luca agreed. “But your mom’s right, you shouldn’t run away from her like that.”
“Sorry,” he repeated, not looking the least bit remorseful.
We moved into a wonderful community this past July. So many of the fathers tried to fill the void in Mikey’s life, but never had my son warmed up to any of them like he already seemed to with Luca.
“Can I eat these now?” He snatched the cookies from my hand. “Luca, you want a cookie?”
I snatched them back before his tiny fingers could tear into them. “You haven’t had lunch yet. So, just one.”
“Aw, man. Ooh, can Luca eat lunch with us?” He focused on Cassie. “Miss Brooks, you can come too, if you want. Mom makes mac and cheese for me on game day. I can show you my new hermit crab! He never comes out of his shell. Mom thinks he’s dead, but I bet he’ll come out for you, Luca!”
Luca chuckled while I stood dumbfounded at my son’s audacity. “Mikey, I’m sure Miss Brooks and Luca already have plans.”
Mikey’s five-year-old lack of a filter blurted out, “Do you?”
“We do.” Luca met my gaze before admitting, “We’re going to grab pizza.”
“I love pizza!” Oh Lord. “Mom, can we go too? Puh-leeeze?” He pressed his palms together in mock prayer.
“Mikey…” I stopped and offered Luca an apologetic smile.
His response was a genuine smile before he said, “We’d love to have you both join us.”
Cassie nodded at Luca with a gleam in her eye. “Yes, Sabrina, why don’t you join us.”
“Mom? Can we?”
Between Mikey’s pleading eyes, Cassie’s nod, and Luca waiting for my answer, how could I say no? “Fine. But first you’re coming to the bathroom with me so we can get you cleaned up and changed out of your stinky uniform.”
“Yes!” His little arm shot up in triumph and without warning, he catapulted toward Luca who caught him mid-air.
All I could do was watch in shock. Cassie met my surprised expression with one of her own. She patted my arm and without words conveyed just what she was thinking. This would be good for my son, and I should indulge him. Of course, I would, yet, I wondered what had gotten into him? He never acted that way, and the only explanation was a tall Italian man named Luca.
A young man at the counter peered up when we walked in. After confirming there were just four in our party, he showed us to a nice, red and white cloth covered table. Luca pulled out Cassie’s chair and then mine, which Mikey decided to sit on. Luca laughed and proceeded to pull out the chair next to my son.
“Can Luca sit next to me, Mom? You can sit over there next to Miss Brooks.” His little finger pointed to the empty seat next to Cassie.
Luca turned toward me for guidance, something he’d done more than once since meeting us. “Honey, I’m sure Luca wants to sit next to Miss Brooks.”
My not-so-shy son piped in, “Do you?” His pleading eyes locked on Luca.
Cassie interjected, “He can sit next to you. Boys have cooties.”
Luca gasped and placed his hand over his heart. “That’s a lie, right Mikey?”
“Yeah. Girls are the ones with cooties,” he said, bouncing in his seat. “Okay, Mom. You sit over there.”
Once again Luca pulled out my chair. “Third time’s a charm?” His deep voice was laced with humor. God, he smelled good.
“Looks that way, thank you.”
The patrons’ conversations in the restaurant competed with the Italian music playing over the speakers. Most of the tables were occupied, and a few men behind the counter worked furiously at keeping up with demand. An older gentleman tossed his dough in the air with finesse, capturing my son’s attention.
Mikey clutched his stomach as if he hadn’t eaten in weeks. “I’m so hungry. Mom, can I have my own cheese pizza?”
“I think an entire pizza would be a lot for you.”
“Aw, man. Can I have half a pizza?”
“Let’s take one slice at a time, okay?”
“Kay,” he said with a pout.
We perused the menu. When the waitress came over, Cassie and I ordered a veggie pizza to share. At the mention of vegetables, my adorable son opened his mouth, stuck his pointer finger in it, and began to gag. “Luca, do you like vegetables?”
“I do, but not on pizza.” Luca agreed with a grimace.
“See, Mom. It’s gross.”
I ordered a slice of plain cheese pizza for Mikey before Luca ordered a large meat lovers with extra sausage, and then thanked her in Italian.
“That sounds so good. Doesn’t it, Mommy?”
Who was this child sitting across from me? Th
e only meat he ate was in the form of a nugget, deep fried and breaded. Rather than get into that discussion, I nodded. “Yummy.”
Before the waitress stepped away, she placed some crayons on the table for Mikey to color his placemat that served as a coloring book.
“What did you say to that lady?” my son asked Luca.
“I thanked her.”
“Want to color with me?” He grabbed the blue one, his favorite color, and handed it to Luca.
Without hesitation, Luca took the crayon and started coloring with my son.
My heart squeezed with emotion at something so simple, yet it spoke volumes. Not only on what type of person he was, but the fact my son took an immediate liking to him. There was nothing I loved more than seeing him happy, though at the same time his trusting manner scared me.
“Magnifico.” Mikey looked up confused and Luca translated, “Magnificent.”
“Your accent is faint,” I said out loud what I was thinking.
“Thanks to my dialect coach… and Yale.” His eyes lifted to mine and held. “It comes out every now and again.”
“He also slips into Italian whenever he’s emotional.” When the hand he used to color stopped moving, Cassie leaned closer to inspect their work across the table. “Mikey, you better teach Luca how to color. He has trouble staying inside the lines.”
Luca furrowed his brow and he ignored Cassie’s jibe. His tongue poked out from the corner of his mouth, just like my son did when he concentrated.
Mikey regarded his teacher. “Miss Brooks, he’s doing a great job.”
“Yeah, Miss Brooks. I’m doing a great job.” Luca and Mikey shared a smile and continued with their artwork.
Before long, our meals were delivered. At the exact same time, Cassie and I pulled out a small bottle of hand sanitizer. “Hands please,” we said in unison. Both Luca and Mikey looked at each other before complying. Without hesitation, Cassie squeezed a drop on each of Mikey’s palms.
In a daze, I focused on Luca’s strong, big, masculine hands. Luca cleared his throat, waiting expectantly. “Oh, sorry.” Rather than squirting the liquid myself, I handed him the bottle. Jesus, Sabrina, get a grip already.
Once we were all sanitized, Cassie dished out a slice of veggie pizza for her and one for me. “Mikey, do you want to try some?” I asked holding my plate up.
His little nose scrunched up and he shook his head. “No way.” I tilted my head until he amended, “I mean, no thank you,” which earned him a smile.
He picked up his slice, but he appeared to be in awe of the pie in front of Luca. “Would you like a piece, buddy?”
“Yes, please! It looks soooo good.”
Luca served Mikey, engaging him in a deep in conversation about the history of pizza. I couldn’t help the smile on my lips at the way their conversation bounced from food to Italy to soccer and back to food in a matter of five minutes.
While the guys were oblivious to our company, I leaned closer and whispered to Cassie, “My son has never eaten a piece of sausage in his life. Not to mention pepperoni.”
“I know… even when we have a pizza party in class he has plain cheese. Luca has a way about him, though.”
“You’re a lucky lady. He seems like a great guy.”
I was confused by her instant moan. “We aren’t dating.”
Assuming we still couldn’t be heard over their chatter, I misread her groan and said, “I’m sorry. Maybe with time…”
She placed a hand on my arm to stop me. “No, no, we’re just really good friends. He’s like a brother to me.”
At her last statement, Luca’s eyes met mine, and he smiled. My stomach flipped at the possibility he had heard everything we said. “Oh… um… that’s great.” Nothing else came to mind as an acceptable response. Except for maybe—yay?
As quickly as the thought popped into my mind that he was single, it flew right out. I had no business worrying about Luca’s relationship status, or mine for that matter. That little boy across the table was all I needed to worry about. After the year we had, and all the years stretched ahead of us, anything that had to do with me and my love life would have to wait.
My priority was Mikey.
Chapter 4
Luca
Most weren’t fans of Monday mornings, I however, loved them. It made for a perfect segue from having too much time on my hands, especially now that my two friends were attached. Throwing myself into my work helped clear many of the cobwebs that could plague my mind, and most of them had to do with how different everything became after Jude’s wedding.
I talked a good game when it came to my friends, and all that went with being an eligible bachelor in New York City. Truth be told, I was envious of what they found, and often wondered if that kind of connection was in the cards for me.
There shouldn’t have been any reason for me to feel love wasn’t something I’d someday find. My parents have been married for many years, as have my grandparents. Divorce wasn’t a word we Benedettos were familiar with, so the obvious belief that I’d also have a wife and kids in my life wasn’t farfetched. Yet, I couldn’t relate to what my two best friends were lucky enough to find.
I, Luca Benedetto, had never been in love.
Being in the states for twelve years, one would think at one point someone would have piqued my interest. Whether at school or even while living in the city, all the women I’d encountered should have increased my odds. Sabrina was the first woman who intrigued me.
My mother still claimed my soul mate resided in Italy, and not America. I had hoped by now my parents would have moved on from their argument for me to move back to Italy. Just as recent as my weekly phone call to them yesterday, my mother carried on by laying on the guilt that they weren’t getting any younger, and she’d like to see her sons settle down before she died.
Luca, there’s a lovely young lady that just moved to Milan. I met her at mass. You should come home and meet her. She’s very nice.
Nice, her keyword for she wouldn’t win the Miss Italy title anytime soon. My mother went on and on, in Italian, telling me more about this mystery woman.
I listened diligently and then replied, No, thank you.
I wasn’t the only one they pressured. My older brother, Dante, got the brunt of our mother’s complaining. He was the first to come to America, and I followed two years later. Our baby sister, Gianna, stayed behind in Milan and was coddled and spoiled.
A knock on my door forced my attention to Jude, who stood holding an envelope while grinning. “Got a minute?”
“For you, I have two. Come in.”
He walked to the chair facing my desk and sat, making himself comfortable. “Good weekend?”
“Uneventful,” I said with a shrug. “How was yours?” The salacious grin on his face spoke volumes. “I don’t want to know,” I interjected, preventing whatever was about to fly out of his mouth. Pointing to the envelope he held, I raised a brow and asked, “What’s that?”
“Well, it’s the reason I’m here. We both know you don’t like to be disturbed on a Monday morning, but this is important.”
My thoughts immediately flew to Waldon, the prick client that had it in for me since Jude disappeared last year on that stupid social experiment where he met Brae. Because of Kyle’s prank, Jude was gone for six weeks, leaving me to run this place as he frolicked in the Caribbean while falling in love.
“If that asshole is still griping about his portfolio not performing, tell him I have proof of otherwise. I made that jackass almost nine million in the last year alone.”
A sideways smirk spread over Jude’s face. “Actually, it was nine and a half, but it’s not about Waldon. He won’t be bothering you anymore.”
Part of me felt a thrill that maybe he took his complaining rich ass elsewhere, but then in spite of all the heartburn he gave me, I’d be losing a nice size bonus every year. Optimism turned to anger at that possibility, and I scraped a frustrated hand through my hair ready to releas
e a pent-up rant. “Fuck that shit. Wherever he moved to, I can guarantee that it wasn’t me who…”
“Benedetto, calm down.” Jude opened the flap of the envelope, removing the contents inside. “He didn’t leave Soren Enterprises. What I meant was he is no longer your problem, but is now that of my executive director’s.”
My mouth gaped while I blinked a few times trying to understand what the fuck was happening. “I’m the executive director. Am I being transferred or something? If so, I’d prefer to go to L.A., and not Chicago.”
“No, not transferred but promoted.” Jude sat watching my expression, waiting for me to process what he had said. After a few long moments passed and my mouth still hadn’t uttered a word, he laughed and handed me the paper he held. “Congratulations, I am promoting you to executive vice president of Soren Enterprises.” I took the paper with a shaky hand, and scanned it quickly, but couldn’t focus on any specifics other than my new title.
“I don’t know what to say.” My eyes cut to Jude’s face as he smiled over how flustered I appeared to be.
“Thank you would be a great start.”
“Thank you. But you know what I mean. I wasn’t expecting this. I just got promoted not more than a year ago.”
“Right, and you also played the role of president while I was gone those six weeks, of which were very profitable regardless of my absence. That is just one of the reasons I want to do this. The other, you always have my back, and that means a lot. Really, I should be thanking you.”
I studied the paper again, this time paying attention to the salary increase, and stock options that now came with my new title. Other benefits such as travel amenities and vacation time were also laid out in full detail. “Wow, this is amazing, second in command, huh? Are you planning to disappear again?”
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