“You were right the other day about Italy. It is an amazing place to study art. I know. I was there. And going back to do that will always be an option. During the summer, on holidays, maybe even for college. But not right now. Now, I want to stay here. On my own.”
The words fall like a bomb, and I let them sink in for a moment.
Then I say, “Look, I’ve spent the past four years not even knowing who I am or what I want.” Swallowing past a strange lump in my throat, I say, “I need to find that out.”
Mom squeezes my arm. I look over to see tears welling in her eyes. “But, Lucas, you don’t have to be alone to do that. Your father and I know we’ve made mistakes, but we’re here for you. We hope you know that.”
Closing my hand over hers, I nod. “I know that. And I swear, this isn’t about me blaming you. I did this to myself. Since David died, I’ve been every bit as lost and hurt as the two of you. But if I want to be a man”—I turn and look my father in the eyes—“the kind of man you’ve raised me to be, then I need to figure this out on my own. I feel like it’s the only way I can get the answers I need.”
Dad’s narrowed eyes soften. With pride or pity, I don’t know, but I decide to go forward with my speech anyway.
“I need to find direction…in art and in life. I want to stand on my own two feet and surround myself with the world’s best artists. Who knows, maybe I’ll decide that art should just be a hobby. Maybe I’ll go on to business school like you wanted.” I’m pretty sure I get him with that one. “Or maybe I’ll see that I do have what it takes after all,” I add before he gets too excited. “Either way, I’ll have tested myself. Alone, with no more excuses. Starting fresh, I’ll figure it out. I know it.”
It’s true, too. Call it whatever you want, but there’s a rock of certainty in my gut, telling me this is the right thing to do. It started as a knot when I first heard about the place. Now that I know it’s an actual possibility, it’s a solid mass. With or without Cat by my side, I need this. But it will be so much better if she’s with me.
My father exchanges a long look with my mother and releases a heavy breath. “Lucas, what you’re saying is admirable. I respect it, and I’m damn proud of the young man sitting in front of me. But, son, you’re seventeen years old. I can’t just leave you in another country.”
I expected as much, which means—thankfully—I have an answer. “I’ll be a senior next year.” I glance at Mom, including her as I say, “That’s one year away from leaving for college. You always said I could go anywhere I wanted then… What’s twelve months? If it doesn’t work out, I can come home, and you can say ‘I told you so.’ But this chance fell into my lap, and it feels like what I’m supposed to do.”
Mom cracks first, turning to Dad with what looks to be curiosity and maybe even a hint of petition in her eyes.
Hope surges through me, almost making me light-headed as I rush to add, “They’ve already accepted me. Mr. Scott sent them samples of my work and a copy of my transcript.” I glance back and forth between them, wishing I were a mind reader. “All they need, all I need, is your permission.”
The silence that follows is weighted. It’s long and sends pricks of apprehension down my back. As they do their wordless parent communication thing, it feels like everything waits in the balance. If this doesn’t work, I won’t give up. I promised Cat I wouldn’t. If it means I have to keep searching or if I have to hop on a plane every month to see her, I’ll do it. But I meant what I told my parents. This school, this decision, is bigger than my love life. It’s my whole life.
Dad scrubs a hand across his face. His voice sounds changed, almost weary, when he asks, “This is something you really want?”
I take a breath and say honestly, “It’s something I really need.”
He nods once and glances briefly at my mother again. “Then let’s talk.”
My Stupid Mouth
∙Cat∙
Seriously, sometimes I need a muzzle. Like the one that mean chick put on Lady in Lady and the Tramp. Without it, I spew things I don’t mean. Or I say things I think I mean in the heat of the moment, but end up regretting forever.
Case in point? My verbal vomit disaster in my room with Lucas. Today’s awkward encounter in the hall was the first time we’ve spoken in almost a week. He’s stayed away, giving me space like he said he would—like I all but forced him to give—because that’s what I said I wanted. Honestly, the only thing I’ve wanted since the door closed behind his perfect backside, and Alessandra gave me those puppy dog eyes, is to rewind time and start over.
Less keeps hounding me to tell him I’m sorry, that I was angry with my mom and scared about him leaving, and I lashed out.
But what if it’s too late?
That’s what keeps me frozen, resorting to eyeball stalking him in the halls and the one measly class we share. What if my freak-out has given Lucas the chance to step back and realize that he’s better off without me after all? That I have way too much baggage and am too high maintenance?
I look down and close my hand around my eight-petal charm as memories assault me. The day he gave this to me, Valentine’s Day, was easily one of the happiest of my life. I’d never felt that close to anyone. More wanted, more in love. Because that’s what I know without a doubt that I am—in love. The same thing Lucas claimed to be before I tossed him out on his gorgeous rear.
Shaking my head, I stare at my idiot reflection in the lavish hotel mirror. The thick makeup covering the circles under my eyes. The bright lipstick coating my mouth, attempting to compensate for my sallow complexion. Outside this bathroom, people are laughing and eating. Toasting Dad and Jenna at their rehearsal dinner. As for the happy couple, they’re totally blissed out—as well they should be. Lord knows they’ve dealt with my stupid mouth enough over the years. They deserve to celebrate their relationship surviving me.
Now if only mine can do the same.
“Knock, knock.”
I glance up to see Alessandra peek her head around the thick door and give me a timid smile.
“Are you all right, dear cousin?” she asks, gently closing the door and leaning her back against it. “You have been gone for quite some time.”
“Peachy,” I reply sarcastically, sighing and tossing my head back. The ceiling is painted a light cream, with gold wispy things and pink roses along the edges. Roses. I sigh again and lower my chin. “I’m happy for Dad. Really. Jenna is the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and I’m so glad to see him in love with a woman who really appreciates him, you know?”
Unlike my selfish mother, who obviously doesn’t know the meaning of love.
Less glides toward the plush sofa against the wall and pats the open space next to her. “I do know,” she says. “Although I have only lived with you for a short time, I can see how Jenna fits him. She comes alongside him and takes care of him, supports him, inspires him to be better. Much like he does for her.” She smiles as she takes my hand, turning slightly on the cushion to face me. “And like Lucas does for you.”
“Dang, girl. Hit a chica when she’s down, why don’t you?”
The true extent of how well Less has fit into my world is proven when she simply shrugs a shoulder and gives me a you-asked-for-it look.
I can’t help but laugh a little as I say, “But since you so kindly brought it up, yeah, like that. Actually, exactly that. And it’s just hard being out there when they are so happy. I’m truly, honestly, one hundred percent stoked for them, but smiling and pretending that I’m happy, too? I used to rock that business, but I just can’t do it anymore. I’ve officially lost my mojo.” I glance at the door, imagining I can see my smiling Dad beyond the wood. “And I don’t want to bring them down with my mopeyness.”
She shakes her head like I’m a moron, which, let’s face it, considering my actions of late, isn’t that far off the mark. “Cat, he’s your father.” I don’t miss the way her voice catches ever so slightly, no doubt thinking of her own father, Uncle Marco, back in the
sixteenth century. “He wants to be there for you.” She pins me in place with the solemn look in her eyes. “Just as the rest of us do.”
My chest grows tight under the intensity of her stare. I know what she’s getting at. What everyone is getting at. Less, Lucas, Dad…Reyna, they all want the same thing. To care for me.
“I’m scared,” I whisper.
Alessandra wraps her arm around my shoulders and sets her head against mine. “I know you are,” she says and kisses my temple. “But this is part of your journey. The same one you started months ago.” The words sound so much like something Reyna would say that I lift my head to look at her. She smiles gently, like she knows what I’m thinking, and says, “It’s time.”
Chills rush down my spine. She’s right. I know she is. But can I do it?
The door opens again, and this time my brother’s head materializes. “Interrupting girl bonding time?”
I shake my head, and he tromps inside, seemingly not at all weirded out that this is the women’s bathroom. He plops down on the sofa and winks.
Gender issues aside, I’m glad he’s here. Our relationship is new, and we have a lot left to learn, but he’s family. Every bit as much as Alessandra is. Maybe it’s because he looks so much like my cousin. Maybe it’s that sibling bond thing. Maybe it’s because this is fate, and we were supposed to be in each other’s lives—but this feels right.
My mother hurt me. Caterina used me for her own gain and fooled me in a lot of ways. But I got my closure. In the end, she actually gave me something better than that.
She gave me a brother.
Sandwiched between my cousin from a different time and the sibling I never knew existed, I feel strangely at peace. Almost everyone I care about is in this hotel or is driving up tomorrow. There’s only one thing keeping the wedding from being perfect.
“Nah,” I say with a shake of my head. “Not girl bonding time. More like ‘Berate Cat for Being an Idiot’ time.”
Ransom nods slowly, then glances at Alessandra over my head. “This about the lovesick boyfriend?”
Less lifts her eyebrows, and I snort. “Excuse me, but shouldn’t the two of you be rushing to defend my genius? Consoling me. Making me feel better. Isn’t that what family…a-and friends,” I quickly add when Less widens her eyes, “do?”
Both of them just stare at me blankly, neither making a peep, and I blow out a breath.
Well, then.
“Oh, what the hell am I talking about?” I ask, slumping back against the luxurious velvet couch. “I am an idiot. I pushed away my Jenna, the best thing that’s ever happened to me. But then, that’s what I do. I protect myself. I hurt them before they can hurt me. Rah-rah sis boom ba. I am woman, hear me roar.” I chuckle darkly up at the roses mocking me from the ceiling. “If there was a black belt in severe idiocy, I’d own that sucker.”
Rance chuckles as he shifts beside me. “This a pattern of yours, I take it?”
I loll my head to meet his concerned gaze. “Pretty much. At least since dear old mom took off. It’s my defense from the hurt of being left behind. If no one gets close enough to care about, it can’t sting when they decide to bolt.”
Tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, Rance says softly, “Not everyone leaves.”
The deep breath I take stutters in my chest. “You plan on sticking around then?”
I’m sure he’s going to say no. That he’s going to sit there and prove my theory. He has a life in Houston. Friends. Why would he bother staying here? So when his smile turns almost shy, and he lifts his shoulder in a shrug, my jaw drops. “I’ve been thinking about it.”
Alessandra gets up and daintily kneels on the carpet in front of me. “See, Cat? This is what I mean. You have to stop pushing away the people who love you,” she tells me. “We are not all like your mother. Your father, Jenna, Austin and me, your brother, and Lucas…we love you.”
Her words hit me full in the chest, and I wince. Hot tears prick my eyes. I close them and bow my head.
I know they love me. I love them, too. That’s what makes this so stinking hard. The pain I’m feeling isn’t anyone else’s fault but my own. Lucas didn’t leave me—at least not yet. The loneliness, the fear, the hurt…I’m doing it all to myself. And I’m hurting Lucas, too.
Who knew pushing someone away—someone who truly matters—could cut deeper than being abandoned?
Less places her hands on my knees and ducks down to meet my gaze. “None of us are going anywhere. Even if Lucas does end up leaving, it is not the end of the world. Not with the wonderful, modern conveniences of today.” She grins as she says this, and I look over to see Ransom quirk an eyebrow. If he plans to hang around, we probably need to fill him in on a few things soon. I smile despite my leaking eyes and turn back when Alessandra squeezes my knee. “Please…trust us enough to let us in.”
A clean white handkerchief appears in front of my eyes, and I accept it from my brother. Why a nineteen-year-old dude even owns a handkerchief is beyond me, but I’m grateful. Picture time is coming any minute. The last thing I need is eternal, smudgy-faced proof that I’m an idiot. Dabbing carefully under my eyes, I sniff and ask, “Since when did you become the Miyagi of this relationship?”
Even though the Karate Kid reference flies over her head, she grins and replies, “Well, you should always listen to your elders.”
“Okay, what?”
At Rance’s look of utter confusion, we bust out laughing.
When I visited the sixteenth century, Alessandra was two years younger than me. When she appeared here two months later, she’d somehow magically caught up. Technically, however, the girl is five hundred years my senior.
I guess she gets a few wisdom points for that.
We’re still giggling, and Rance is still confused, a few moments later when the door opens again. Jenna peeks her head inside, looking bridal and beautiful in a long white cocktail dress, signature megawatt smile on her face. “Picture time!”
My old-school, handkerchief-wielding brother is the first to his feet. He gallantly takes our hands, assisting us up, and I sneak a stealth glance in the mirror. Everything appears in order. No mascara tracks or raccoon eyes. Unfortunately, my future stepmother must have some kind of radar because as we approach, Jenna’s beaming smile dims.
“Everything all right?” she asks, clasping a manicured hand around my elbow.
“Everything’s fine.” I signal for Alessandra and Ransom to go on ahead.
Less gives a thumbs up behind Jenna’s shoulder, then follows her brother’s doppelganger down the hall.
Turning back to Jenna, I smile like a dope and go for humor, singsonging the words I so badly want to say. The words I know she needs to hear. “Have I told you lately that I love you?”
The obvious answer would be no, since I’ve never said those words to her ever. But I know that doesn’t matter. What’s important is that I’m saying it now. And that I mean it. Jenna’s big blue eyes fill with tears at my crappy singing, and I hand over Rance’s handkerchief.
“Because I do,” I tell her sincerely, dropping the smile. “I have for a long time, I’ve just been too scared to admit it. To you or myself. But I want you to know before you walk down that aisle tomorrow that I’m grateful you came into our lives. You make Dad happier than I’ve ever seen him.”
Those silent tears of hers turn into blubbery sounds as she smashes the cloth against her face. But the blue eyes peeping over the top look happy—no, they look accepting. Loving. Joyous.
Swallowing past the thickness in my throat, I add, “You make me happy, too.”
The next thing I know, slender arms are yanking me in for a tight hug, and I’m enveloped in her light, fruity perfume. Four months ago, I loathed these kinds of sappy things. I avoided them at all costs. Now? It’s kind of nice.
In moderation.
I hug her back, the scent of strawberry filling my nose as I say, “You’re a wonderful person, Jenna. It’ll be an honor to officially
call you Mom.”
She shakes her head and leans back, laughing softly. “Cat, you’ve been the daughter of my heart for a year now.” Running a hand over my hair, a sweet, watery smile slides across her face. “And believe me, the honor is all mine.”
A Kick in the Ass
∙Lucas∙
“I’ll never see a California summer.” Angela falls onto my mattress, a dramatic sigh escaping her turned-up mouth. “Send me a postcard of it, will you?”
She bats her eyelashes, and I slap my chest, feigning chest pains. “Teasing hurts, you know.”
After Dad agreed to talk with the school and Mr. Scott, I was cautiously optimistic. When he and Mom came to my room last night, saying they’d decided to give boarding school a shot—on a trial basis—I was relieved. But I wasn’t happy. Not only was my relationship with Cat still up in the air, I had to tell my sister the news. She’d begged me to find a way for both of us to stay, and the solution I found was a selfish one.
“Oh, lighten up,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Will you just call the girl already? You’re zero fun when you’re all serious. And you know I’m just messing with you.”
While I spent the last week plotting and planning for a way to stay, my sister apparently spent the time calling old friends in Milan. Turns out, she doesn’t much mind moving again, as long as she can finish out the year here and have her huge party. Her former crush getting wind of her plans and calling the other night didn’t hurt, either.
“You’re seriously okay with this?” I ask her again, just to be sure. I set aside the clay I was kneading for a new sculpture and wipe my hands on a rag. “You know you can visit me any time you want.”
She nods and sits up. “I’m good. I did tell Dad that if they make me move again, he owes me a Ferrari,” she says with a grin, and I have no doubt she did. Even when he was checked out of our family, Angela had the old man practically wrapped around her finger.
I chuckle at the thought of her behind the wheel, even as the vision of another Ferrari comes to mind.
My Not So Super Sweet Life Page 15
