“Something going on,” Rocco asked after a minute. Uncle Rob would never call without a purpose.
“I tell you, come up here and get Chiara,” Uncle Rob commanded.
“Excuse me?”
“I need to explain?”
“She chose to go--” Rocco began.
“I’m all for the Buffone pride, but unless you want to lose your woman--”
“She was never mine.”
“Could have fooled the rest of us. Yesterday, all the families gathered. Lots of twenty-somethings. I’ve met them all now and they’re good people. But there’s this one, I know his type, the family playboy, reminds me of me…Gianni DeGrazia, he was getting mighty cozy with Chiara. Max doesn’t like it. And neither should you.”
Rocco gripped the phone in an effort to keep from hurling it across the room. “If she wants to be with someone else, she’s free. So am I. I don’t plan on sitting around here by myself.”
“Don’t be a fool. A woman like her--”
“What, is she cramping your style with Leonora? Must be crowded there, the three of you.”
“Bull-headed just like your dad.”
“He always said I took after you,” Rocco said.
“Listen, Chiara’s making new friends already--”
“Good for her. I was on my way out. Have a good weekend,” Rocco said before hanging up.
Now he did throw the phone. He ran his hands over his head. A bar was the best pick up spot, but he couldn’t risk it. He had some numbers of women, several months old now, but worth a try. He called every one, even delved into his old numbers, but none were available and a few hung up on him. Six months of his life wasted. He’d have to start over, back to finding the women and building his reputation with the ones who could be counted on for a good time, commitment free. It got more difficult at his age, unless he wanted to date much younger women. Most women closer to his age wanted stability, a relationship. Though there were those few, divorcees or singles, who just wanted sex. The trouble was finding them.
Apparently, finding women wasn’t the problem. He was. Him and his stupid preoccupation with Chiara. He went out Saturday night, even made out with some blond by her car in the parking garage near the bar. She invited him home, but he couldn’t make himself go. He was going to follow her to her place, but his mind wandered to Chiara and he drove home without even realizing what he was doing.
As he walked into his dark house, the phone rang. It was almost midnight, the last time anyone called his home phone this late was a year ago when Ray phoned to tell him about his dad’s heart attack. He fumbled the phone and answered.
“Rocco?” It was Chiara. A grin pushed out before he forced it away.
“Yeah,” he said in a low voice.
“Did you have a good Thanksgiving?”
What the hell, was she calling to chit-chat?
“Sure, you?” Not that he needed to ask. He clenched his jaw and paced.
“Fine, everyone’s been really nice.” She sounded far away.
“It’s late. I was just going to bed.”
“Sorry, I didn’t realize…I haven’t been sleeping much.”
Oh, that Gianni keeping her up? He clenched his hands. Dammit.
“Are you still there?” she asked.
“Yeah. Is there a reason you called?” he snapped.
“I wanted to tell you I’m sorry.”
“You said that already.”
“I didn’t think you heard me,” she said.
He heard everything she ever said to him. “Why are you sorry?”
“For fighting with you.” Her voice was so soft and quiet, soothing. He shook his head. Unless she said she was coming back, he wouldn’t cave in. He waited, the quiet making him tap his fingers just for the sound.
“I guess I should let you go,” she said.
“Nothing else to say?” He had to give her one more chance.
“Nothing you’ll want to hear.” Now her tone had an edge.
“Try me,” he said. If only she would.
“Can you…I mean, can we not see other people?”
“Meaning?” He stood still and smiled.
“I don’t know. Never mind.”
His ears pounded and his smile faded. “If you mean you want to keep me on a leash while you’re off screwing around, forget it. You want me to keep you on my list, fine, but don’t expect me to sit at home alone.”
“What about the things we said…did you mean any of it?” she said in a strained tone.
“Did you? Doesn’t seem like it. Like you said, people say things in the heat of the moment. The excitement of the chase. Sometimes the catch isn’t what you thought it would be so you throw it back.”
“Right. ‘Bye,” she said.
He slammed the phone on the hook then put his hand over it. She’d said she didn’t want to see other people. But she didn’t say she was moving back. He loved her, but he wasn’t going to play games or let her stomp all over him. Self respect kept him from that. Then again, pride wasn’t much fun in bed. And it didn’t tell you it loved you. Maybe she was confused. He sure had been during his divorce. He felt like he ran around the ball field, always reaching the same end every time, never going anywhere, just getting winded.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chiara held her cell in her hand and cried. She’d done it to herself--she couldn’t blame Rocco. She’d fought with him, snapped at him, refused to listen. Now he didn’t love her anymore. No surprise--she was unlovable.
She wallowed in the sticky mud of her misery for awhile. She believed it was the right image, since she felt stuck and dirty, and not in a good way. Taking a deep breath, she said hello to her feelings, acknowledging them. Grandma had explained how to do it and she’d heard it before. She often did that with Max and Danny, sometimes just saying “I hear you’re mad” or whatever the feeling was would diffuse it. So, she said hello to her sadness, anger, and fear. Asked them how they were doing tonight. Then she giggled.
Scrunching up her brow and biting her lip, she tried to recall the cadences in Rocco’s voice during their conversation. Something had been in his tone, a gentle tenderness, at least before his final words. It didn’t really matter, though, when she wasn’t ready to go further in their relationship, even if all that meant to him was for her to move in. She needed to get herself together or their love would never last.
Why couldn’t she be so clear with Rocco? Maybe if she was, he would understand. But when they spoke, her words jumbled and her defenses slammed up. Placing her phone on the nightstand, she took another deep breath and pulled the blankets to her chin, hoping the warmth would help her sleep.
“Good morning, sunshine,” her grandma said the next morning when Chiara walked into the kitchen of the flat. Chiara’s tiny smile widened at her grandma’s words.
“Good morning,” she said as she poured herself a cup of coffee. “Where’s Uncle Rob?”
“Still in bed,” Grandma said. She smiled slyly.
“Grandma, you are some woman.”
“I know. Did you talk to Rocco?”
“Yes,” Chiara said. Her smile was gone.
“Didn’t you tell him how grateful you are he’s in your life, how you needed time to settle in with yourself?”
“Not exactly,” Chiara said.
“You seemed clear when you told me.”
“I know. Maybe I should wait and talk to him in person.”
“He might not wait for you,” Grandma said.
“If he’s over me in a couple weeks it wasn’t really love.”
“You don’t know much about men, sunshine.”
“Maybe not. Thanks for giving me this time off. I’m going to have a fun week.”
“Good, you need it. Is today shopping or baking?”
“Shopping. Baking with everyone at Aunt Sophia’s on Friday. You coming?”
“I’ll be there, but just to amuse. I was never much of a baker. I’ve always counted on Celeste
for that. Rob’s going home for the weekend on Thursday, so you and I will have a day of beauty. What about the rest of your week? Have you decided where you’ll go from here?”
“No. I’ll probably just hang around with family.” Chiara said hello to her longing and let a smile come out again.
“I think I know where you’re headed. Ah, Roberto, an espresso?” Grandma said when Uncle Rob ambled in, looking dapper in his dark slacks and sweater.
“Leonora, you are an angel,” he said, blowing her a kiss.
Grandma winked at him. Chiara laughed and offered to make breakfast. Listening to Grandma and Uncle Rob banter and make plans for their post-Christmas trip to Italy, Chiara grinned. She was surrounded by family and friends who loved and even liked her, the boys would be coming up for the weekend and they would have a great time getting to know the D’Angelos and doing Christmas crafts. She would enjoy this week. Then she would figure out what to do with the rest of her life.
A week and a half later, Chiara knew what she wanted, needed to do. The week before had gone exactly as planned and hoped. The boys had great fun and so did she. But, though she would keep up these new friendships and family ties, San Francisco wasn’t home. Close, but not quite. Chiara had visited and lived in different cities, but she was a suburban girl at heart.
Most importantly, her heart belonged to Rocco. Gianni had pursued her, pretty relentlessly for a bit, but Uncle Max finally shut him down. Apparently it had happened before. She sat on the couch Wednesday afternoon, holding her tummy while she sipped hot cocoa. She smiled. Her period was a week late now and she felt different, lighter. Maybe Rocco wouldn’t want a baby, but he couldn’t blame her. He had initiated the three times they’d forgotten to use a condom and he knew she wasn’t on the pill. Maybe he would be thrown at first, but she knew he loved children. Somehow it would all work out. Phil had asked her to have lunch on Sunday with him and the boys. She would move back to Isabella’s in the morning and go see Rocco after lunch.
On Saturday, Aunt Sophia threw her party with all the families there so they could visit since Chiara might not be back for awhile. She hoped Mrs. Buffone would still want her back at the job and Rocco at his house. Once she and Grandma got home to the flat that night, they visited for a bit and then Chiara went to pack. Changing for bed, she saw it. She had just been late. She wasn’t pregnant. She cried herself to sleep.
“Are you sure about this?” Grandma asked her the next morning as she set her bags by the front door.
“Yes,” Chiara said.
“You don’t look happy to be going.”
“It’s not that. I’ll miss you, though.” Chiara rubbed her stomach.
“We’ll see you for Christmas Eve. The Buffones are having a party.”
“I don’t know.”
“I do.” Grandma hugged her tightly and sent her out the door. “I’m always available for you, sunshine,” she said with a wave before she shut the door.
Chiara smiled and hauled her bags to her car. Back to Isabella’s, back home.
Isabella wasn’t home. She’d left a note saying she was having brunch with a friend. Some welcome so far. Chiara unpacked and got ready for lunch.
The boys were loving and Phil was very pleasant. They could finally all enjoy a meal together without Chiara feeling the pit in her stomach she had for the last few years. Chattering on, the boys mentioned Suzy so many times, Phil’s face flushed. Chiara sat taller and smiled. This must be why Kitty had stopped calling her and Phil was more receptive to her requests. Since it was raining, Phil excused the boys and let them go play a video game. Chiara reached for the plates to clear the table, but Phil put a hand on her arm.
“I’d like to talk,” he said.
“Sure,” Chiara said, folding her hands on the table.
“As you must have known, we’ve been spending a lot of time with Suzy.”
“Yes, she’s good to the boys. They like her a lot. And I know you’ve been friends for awhile.”
“She likes the boys too. Loves them, and me,” he said, staring at Chiara’s hands.
She swallowed. “Great,” she said, trying to sound cheerful.
“We’re going to get married, as soon as the divorce is final. I want to make sure you’re okay with it all. We want to live here, but we’ll need more room, so we thought we’d move into Suzy’s until we get this place redone. Then Suzy’s parents will be moving out here and live in her house, so they can be closer to their grandchildren,” Phil said. He fidgeted with his napkin.
“They call the boys that already?”
“Well, you see…Suzy’s three months pregnant, they think it might be twins.”
Chiara hugged her stomach and bit the inside of her lip. “Do the boys know?”
“I wanted to tell you first. Is it okay with you? I mean, living at Suzy’s and all?”
“If the boys want to, it’s fine. I’m happy for you, and Suzy.” She patted Phil’s hand and managed a small smile. “When will you tell them?”
“Tonight. We’re going to Suzy’s for dinner.” He stood and stacked the plates. “Thanks. We’ll call you later tonight so you can talk to the boys about it.”
“Okay.” Chiara rose and went to say goodbye to the boys. Their hugs and kisses released some of the tension in her stomach, but one name beat in her as the balm for her ache: Rocco.
She drove around to his house, trying to figure out what to say. But she didn’t want to talk. Phil and Suzy together didn’t bother her. It was all the mess Phil had put her through when he was no better in his behavior, it was what he and Suzy had that she wanted with Rocco but had been too afraid to admit.
She knocked on the door. He opened it. Sportscasters’ voices from the TV swirled in the background. Staring at her with his deep brown eyes, he stepped aside to let her walk in. He appeared much the same as he had the first time she’d seen him: short hair, tee outlining his muscles, jeans, only socks, though, no work boots.
“Back in town?” he said.
She nodded and gazed at him. She didn’t care that he seemed angry, his brows pulled together and a frown. She kissed him. For a moment, he kissed back. But he must have sensed her desperation and he pulled away. She touched the frown lines, wanting to see the laugh lines, the broad grin and sparkling eyes. He grasped her hand.
“Why are you here?” he asked.
“Phil and Suzy are getting married. She’s pregnant,” Chiara said. It was easier to start with that than admit everything in her heart.
“Christ.” He shook his head and threw her hand from his grip. “I’m tired of being used. If you’d been upfront in the beginning that you just wanted sex and to complain about your husband, maybe I could’ve worked with that. But instead…I don’t get you. Maybe I don’t want to. I was watching the football game.” Striding to the couch, he sank into it and faced the screen.
“It’s not like that. Please listen--”
“I don’t want to hear it. You’re upset because now you’re out in the cold. Nothing to do with me,” he said. He rose and went down the hall.
“Let me explain.” She ran to him and grabbed his arm.
He pried away her fingers. “Go home,” he said. “Wherever that is. Go cry on someone else. I hear you have good prospects.” He slammed his bedroom door on her. She pounded on it.
“Let me in,” she shouted. The door was locked.
Music blared from behind the door. She beat her palm on the door until her hand went numb. Swallowing, she stopped. She could try to wait him out, but maybe she should let him cool off for a few hours. Then she could call. If he answered.
Chapter Thirty
Rocco lay on his bed and waited. He figured Chiara would leave eventually. She’d almost gotten to him with her deep kiss, but something about it had been too needy and now he knew why. Let her go kiss that Gianni. Rocco wasn’t going to fill in when she dictated, her rotating utility player.
A fine line of sweat beaded on his brow at the thought of he
r with someone else. But she probably already had been. Uncle Rob told him how she and Gianni had been out several times over the last few weeks, how Uncle Rob had seen them kissing in Gianni’s car. Uncle Rob seemed to think this would spur him to action but it only made him feel sick and determined to forget Chiara. He wasn’t going to bother about that yet, though, since Shawn and Sabrina would be here next weekend. They planned on staying with him until Christmas Eve and then going to their mom’s.
The music blasted, but he still heard Chiara’s pounding. Even once she stopped, the beat in the music kept the sound of her pleading knocks alive in his ears. He flipped the radio off. His ears still throbbed. He covered them for a minute and shook his head. She owed him an explanation. He had let her off too easily.
Ready for You (A San Francisco Brides Book) Page 26
