Caroselli's Christmas Baby

by Michelle Celmer

  “Some more than others.”

  “And goodness knows you can hold a grudge. But haven’t you punished him enough? Couldn’t you at least try to let him make amends? Would you do it for me?”

  Maybe Nick had been a bit bullheaded—a trait he had inherited from his father, of course—but to be honest, he was tired of carrying around this pent-up animosity. After all his parents had been through, if she could forgive him, shouldn’t he at least make an attempt?

  “I’ll try,” he told her.

  His mom smiled. “Thank you.”

  “I’m sorry I barged in on you like that,” he said.

  “Well, considering the look on your face, it was much more traumatic for you than it was for your father and me.”

  No kidding.

  When he left his mom’s condo, he went straight home, still completely clueless as to what he would say to Terri. With any luck, he would have some sort of epiphany, and the right words would just come to him. That was bound to happen at least once in a man’s life, right?

  * * *

  When Nick got home, Terri was sitting on the living room floor amid a jumble of wrapping paper, ribbon and bows.

  “I’m home,” he said, even though that was pretty obvious, as he was standing right there. He was off to a champion start.

  She just looked at him and smiled and said, “How are the roads?”

  “Getting bad,” he said. “How’s the wrapping?”

  “I’ve been doing this every year for over twenty years now, and I still manage to suck at it.”

  He reviewed the pile of presents she’d already finished, and it did sort of look as if a five-year-old had done them.

  “Plus my knees are about to pop.” She pushed herself to her feet and watched him expectantly. “So where is it?”

  He hung up his coat. “Where is what?”

  “The decorations.”

  “Oh, crap.” He’d been so rattled when he left his mom’s he’d forgotten to grab the box.

  “You drove all the way to you mom’s and forgot them?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t suppose you picked up dinner, either.”

  Dammit! “No, I forgot that, too. But I have a very good excuse. I walked in on my parents having sex.”

  Her eyes went wide, and she said, “Together?”

  He repeated the story to her, and by the end she was laughing so hard tears were rolling down her face.

  “It is not funny,” he said.

  “Yeah,” she said, wiping her eyes. “It is.”

  “I’m traumatized for life. Did I also mention that they were smoking pot?”

  “Like you’ve never done that,” she said. She walked into the kitchen and he followed her. “So what are we going to eat? I’m starving.”

  “We could order in.”

  “In this weather, it will take forever.”

  “I could throw together a quick tomato sauce, and serve it over shells. It wouldn’t take more than an hour.”

  “After shopping all day, then living through the horror of seeing your dad’s naked ass, do you really think you have the energy?”

  Shaking his head in exasperation, he snatched his apron from the broom closet. “Get me two cans of crushed tomatoes and a can of tomato paste from the pantry.”

  He tied the apron on and grabbed the ingredients he needed from the fridge. He chopped onions, celery and garlic, and sautéed it all in a pan with olive oil. When the onions and garlic turned translucent, he stirred in the crushed tomatoes and tomato paste, then added oregano, basil and salt. He ground fresh pepper in next, then added the slightest pinch of thyme, which his Nonni had always taught him to use sparingly, warning that too much would overwhelm. Nick had learned a lot in culinary school, but the really valuable things he’d learned from her.

  “How do you do that?” Terri asked from the bar stool where she sat watching him. “You don’t measure anything. How do you know it’s the right amount?”

  “I do measure it. Just with my eyes, not a spoon. When you make something as many times as I’ve made Nonni’s tomato sauce, a recipe becomes obsolete.”

  She sighed. “I can’t make toast without screwing it up.”

  “It’s just a matter of following the directions and using good judgment.”

  “Well, there you go, I have terrible judgment.”

  “You married me,” he said, hoping to break the ice. Maybe she would say it had been the best decision of her life.

  She smiled at him and said, “I rest my case.”

  He laughed in spite of himself. He set the burner on medium and took off his apron. “So, I was thinking maybe we could—”

  His cell phone buzzed in his pants pocket, startling him. Then it started to ring. He pulled it out and saw that it was Rob. “Hold on a minute, Terri.

  “Hey, Rob,” he answered.

  “Hey, have you got a minute?”

  “Um, I’m making dinner.”

  “It’ll just take a minute.”

  “Okay, sure, what’s up?”

  “Something kind of weird happened yesterday, and I’m really not sure what to think. I thought maybe your dad said something to you about it.”

  “You know me and my dad, always chatting.”

  “I know it’s a long shot, but I thought maybe he mentioned it.”

  “Mentioned what?”

  “What’s going on between my dad and Uncle Tony.”

  “Actually he did mention it, but only to ask if I knew what was going on. Which I don’t. He wanted me to ask you and Tony Junior if you knew anything.”

  “All I know is that I stopped by my parents’ house tonight and Uncle Tony’s Beemer was there. I heard shouting from inside, and when my mom answered the door, she looked as if she’d been crying, and Uncle Tony looked pissed. He left just a few minutes after I got there. When I asked what happened, my parents wouldn’t talk about it.”

  “What about Tony? Have you talked to him?”

  “A few minutes ago. He didn’t have a clue what I was talking about.”

  He considered mentioning what Terri saw on Thanksgiving, and that whatever it was, Aunt Sarah was involved, too, but he was a little fuzzy on the details. Besides, it wouldn’t be fair to bring Terri into this without first asking her if it was okay.

  “I’ll ask around and see what I can come up with, but I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about,” he said, even though that was the opposite of what he was actually thinking. Something was up, and he had the feeling it was bad.

  Fifteen

  “Everything okay?” Terri asked when Nick hung up, but she could tell by the look on his face that something was wrong.

  “I’m not sure. According to my father and Rob, there’s some sort of friction between Uncle Demitrio and Uncle Tony. Didn’t you say that you heard Uncle Demitrio and Aunt Sarah fighting at Nonno’s?”

  He remembered that? She wondered what else he recalled from that night. “I don’t know if I would call it fighting, but it seemed…heated. But like you said, they used to date, so maybe there are still hard feelings.”

  “Why now, after thirty-some years?”

  She shrugged. This was not a can of worms she wanted to be responsible for opening.

  “Do you recall what they were fighting about?”

  “I didn’t hear the whole conversation, just bits and pieces.”

  “Like what?”

  “Something about telling someone something.”

  “That’s vague.”

  She shrugged. “She said she didn’t want to, and then they walked downstairs.”

  “You didn’t hear them mention a name?”

  “No. It was probably nothing. Honestly, I figured you would have forgotten all about it.”

  “I remember a lot of things from that night.” Something about the way he said it, the way he looked into her eyes, made her heart skip a beat.

  “Wh-what do you remember?” she asked, her heart in her throat, uns
ure if she really wanted to know.

  “Bits and pieces.”

  “Do you remember saying anything to me?”

  “If I recall, I said a lot of things to you. To what specifically were you referring?”

  He wanted her to tell him, so he clearly didn’t remember. She felt an odd mix of relief, and disappointment. “Never mind.”

  “Was it when I commented on the stuffing?” he asked. “Or when I expressed my unrequited and undying love for you?”

  He said it so calmly, so matter-of-factly, that for several seconds words escaped her. She couldn’t even breathe. Then she realized that he was just teasing her. She refused to feel disappointed. “I want you to know that you shouldn’t feel weird or uncomfortable for saying it.”

  “I don’t.”

  “All that stuff about you wishing other girls were me. I know you didn’t mean it.”

  “What makes you think I didn’t mean it?”

  “Because…” She paused, unsure of what to say next, because he had to be messing with her. It was the only explanation. “Nick, come on. You were completely hammered.”

  “Just because I was drunk doesn’t mean I didn’t know what I was saying or mean what I said. In fact, that’s probably the most honest I’ve ever been with you. And with myself for that matter.”

  Suddenly she was having a tough time pulling in a full breath again, and the room pitched so violently she clutched the counter to keep from falling over.

  Nick loved her? Love loved her? And didn’t she want that?

  It was one thing to fantasize about it, but she was totally unprepared to actually hear him say the words.

  “Besides,” he said. “I’m not drunk now. And I still feel the same way, so I guess it must be true.”

  A small part of her wanted to jump for joy, while another part—a much bigger part—was having a full-blown panic attack.

  Slow, shallow breaths. In and out.

  What was wrong with her? This was a good thing, right? Shouldn’t she be happy? A rich, handsome man who just happened to be her best friend in the world love-loved her. Shouldn’t she be thrilled?

  She should, but why wasn’t she? Why instead was every fiber of her being screaming at her to run?

  “Terri, are you okay?” Nick looked as if he were getting his first inkling that something was off. Specifically, her.

  “I’m just a little surprised,” she said. “I mean, this definitely was not a part of the plan.”

  “Plans change.”

  Not this one.

  He sat beside her and took her hands. “Look, I know you’re scared.”

  She pulled her hands free. “It’s not that.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “You don’t want to be married. You’ve said it a million times.”

  “I was wrong.”

  “Just like that, you changed your mind?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “And how do I know you aren’t going to change it back? That five years from now you won’t get restless or bored? How do I know you won’t die?”

  “Okay, Terri,” he said calmly, as if he were speaking to a child. “Now you’re being ridiculous.”

  “Am I? Have you forgotten that you’re talking to a woman whose parents have both died? Like you said, they probably didn’t want to die. I’m guessing they didn’t plan on it, either. But they still did.”

  “I never meant to imply that I’m not going to die. Everyone dies eventually. And, of course, I’m hoping my death occurs later rather than sooner.”

  “Why are you doing this now? Everything was going so well.”

  “That’s why I’m doing it. After what you said about Christmas, I figured you wanted this, too.”

  “What did I say about Christmas?”

  “That next year we would get a real tree. Which I took to mean that there would be a next year for us, that you’re planning for the future.”

  How could a few innocent words get so dangerously misconstrued? “That wasn’t what I meant.”

  “So what did you mean?”

  “I don’t know!” She wished he would stop pushing and give her a minute to organize her thoughts. “There was no hidden agenda, they were just words.”

  “Terri, I am in love with you. I know what I want, and that isn’t going to change. Not a year from now, not five years from now, not a hundred. As long as I am alive, I’m going to want you.”

  “I want you, too,” she said softly. “But I just don’t know if I’m ready for this. If you could give me a little time—”

  “How much time? A year, two years? Twenty years? Because that’s how long it’s taken us to get this far. You can’t live your life in fear of what might happen.”

  “This isn’t going to work.”

  “What isn’t going to work?”

  “The marriage, the baby, none of it. It’s not fair to either of us. You want something from me that I just can’t give, Nick.”

  For a minute he didn’t say anything. He just sat there staring at the wall. Finally, he said, “You know what I could never figure out? You’re beautiful and intelligent, yet you insisted on dating jerks and losers. Men that I—and pretty much everyone else—knew were all wrong for you. And now I realize that was the whole point. Because for all the talking you do about finding Mr. Right, you didn’t want to find him. You would rather play it safe by getting into a relationship you knew would fail, or one that was just about sex. Because if you didn’t care, they couldn’t hurt you. But how many people do you think you hurt, Terri?”

  She bit her lip.

  “How many men really cared about you, maybe even loved you, and you just tossed them away? And now you’re doing the same thing to me.”

  He was right, she knew he was, but she couldn’t do anything about it. She didn’t know how. Those self-defense mechanisms he was referring to were so deep-seated, she didn’t know how to be any other way.

  “If you could just give me a little more time—”

  “Terri, we have been best friends for twenty years. If you don’t trust me now, you’re never going to.” He pushed off the bar stool and started to walk away.

  “What about the ten million dollars?” she said, only because she wasn’t quite ready to let him go. Not yet.

  He stopped and turned to her, his face blank, even though she knew he had to be hurting. “There are plenty of other fish in the sea.”

  He didn’t mean it, she knew he didn’t, but as he turned and walked away, his words cut deep. If only he could give her a little more time. But he was right, she was damaged goods and he deserved better than her.

  * * *

  When Nick woke the next morning, when he and Terri were supposed to be trying to make a baby, he walked into the spare bedroom to discover that all her clothes were gone. He walked to the kitchen and found “the” note. She said she was sorry and she would be back in a few days to get the rest of her things. Simple, to the point.

  And that was it.

  Numb, he made a pot of coffee that he never drank, warmed a bagel that he forgot in the toaster, opened a beer that then sat on the coffee table untouched and stared most of the day at a television he never bothered to turn on. And for the first time in years, he did not talk to Terri. He wanted to, though, which surprised him a little. It felt unnatural not telling her about his day, even if all he did was sit around wallowing in self-pity.

  On Christmas Eve, at his mom’s house, he told everyone she had to flu, knowing that if he told them the truth it would ruin everyone’s Christmas. And since this entire mess was his fault, since he was the one who talked Terri into this, and assured her everything would work out great, he deserved to suffer alone. Although he didn’t doubt she was suffering, too. And he wished he could take back some of the things he had said to her.

  He told himself he wasn’t going to miss her, yet caught himself expecting her to be there, because she hadn’t missed a holiday with his family in years. Because she had no one e
lse.

  He was miserable, but at least he was with people who loved him. She was miserable, too—he didn’t doubt for a second that she was—but on top of that, she was alone. Guilt gnawed at him all evening. He hardly slept. By Christmas morning, he knew what he had to do, what he needed to do. And yes, what he wanted to do.

  * * *

  From the outside, Terri’s condo was the only one that was bare of holiday decorations. It looked so…lonely. A misfit among units draped with twinkling lights and fresh pine wreathes and nativity scenes. They hadn’t exactly gone all out at his place, either, but at least they had their scrawny and unadorned little tree that sat for a couple days on the coffee table looking as lonely and pathetic as he felt.

  He trudged through two inches of freshly fallen snow to her door and rang the bell. Terri opened it wearing flannel pajamas, due, he had no doubt, to the sub-zero temperature where she kept the thermostat. She was stunned to see him, of course, just as he’d expected she would be. So stunned that for several long seconds she just stared openmouthed at him.

  “It’s really cold out here,” he said, and she snapped into action.

  “Sorry, come in.”

  She held the door for him and he stepped inside. He stomped the snow from his shoes and shrugged out of his coat, surprised to find that it was reasonably warm. “This is nice,” he said.

  “Nice?” she asked.

  “The temperature. It’s usually so cold.”

  “I decided last night that I’m sick of being cold.”

  It was about time.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked as he walked through the foyer into the living room. Her laptop sat open on the coffee table and the television was tuned to what he recognized as some cheesy made-for-television holiday flick she’d forced him to watch a couple years ago.

  “I’m picking you up,” he said, making himself comfortable on the sofa.

  “Picking me up for what?”

  “Christmas at Nonno’s.”

  “But…”

  “You better hurry. You know how he hates it when people are late.”

  She stared at him, dumbfounded. “I’m sorry, did I miss something?”

  “I don’t think so. It’s Christmas day, and on Christmas day we always go to Nonno’s.”