"Because there are a lot of big, mean men who are trying to stop me," a voice behind me says, and my head whips around. It's hard to breathe again as Troy comes up, his hair a little shorter than he wore it in high school, and his shoulders a little wider, his chest a little more muscular, but still . . . that smile, those intense blue eyes . . . it's hard to breathe. "I take it you enjoyed the game?"
"Uh-huh!" Laurie nods, yelling in her excitement. She doesn't know it, but it's the first time she's really met her father, and already, I can see she's entranced with him. It's easy to see why as Troy squats down next to her chair, pulling his left hand from behind his back, where he'd been holding a football. "What's that?"
"I remember that when I talked to you in the stands, I promised you something for you too, and not just your mama," Troy says, handing the football to her. "The team lets me keep footballs that I return for touchdowns, and I thought there's nobody I'd like to give it to more than the cute little girl who helped me on the field by cheering so loudly for me."
"Wow . . .” Laurie says, entranced as her tiny hands try to hold the pro-sized ball. "You wrote on it?"
"Uh-huh," Troy says, staying squatting. "It says 'To Laurie, thanks for the big help, Troy Wood.' Sorry if my handwriting is a bit messy. It's hard to write on leather with a pen."
"Can I play with it?" Laurie asks, and I have to hide my chuckle. A normal fan would probably have immediately socked the ball away as a keepsake, hoping to maybe sell it on EBay some day. Laurie's a five-year-old kid. She sees a new ball she can try and play with.
"If you want," Troy says with a laugh, "but it's a little big for you right now. Maybe start with a smaller one first, one that you can hold easier."
"Would you join us, Troy?" I ask, nodding at the fourth chair. "After all, when you give away things like that, the least we can do is offer you coffee."
"I'd appreciate that," Troy says, and his eyes are burning with intensity again. "It's been a long time, Whitney. So what's brought you back to Silver Lake Falls?"
"Family vacation," I say, still not letting on that Lorenzo and I aren't together. I can't trust myself around Troy. His pull is like gravity, and I need to hold out, if only for Laurie's sake. "I wanted to bring Laurie to meet her grandmother. Mom's ecstatic, of course. And, I got an invitation to Dani Vaughn's wedding."
"Really? That's good," Troy says, hiding the hurt my words cause pretty well. It doesn’t make it to his face, but I can see it in his eyes. Now he knows I've been in contact with Dani and not him. "I'm sorry. I wasn't introduced to you, sir. Troy Wood."
"Lorenzo Galvani," Lorenzo replies, and the two men shake hands. I can tell Lorenzo is jealous, and maybe he should be. I'm having a hard time seeing him at all now that Troy has joined us. "Whitney tells me that you and her used to . . . go to high school together?"
“We did,” Troy replies, sitting back. The waitress comes over, clearly star struck but handling it well, Troy's obviously known around town, and he takes his order, a tiramisu, after Laurie tells him what she's having. "I think I earned the treat tonight, don't you, Laurie?"
"Uh-huh," Laurie says, grinning. “It’s good.”
"That it is," Troy agrees, smiling at my daughter fondly. He turns his smile to me, and I feel fresh heat inside me, a heat that's been gone for a very long time. "So you're in town for a while. That's great. If I can ask, what have you been up to the past few years? I mean, I figure you've been in Europe, but you know . . . lots of time between high school and now."
Lots of time, and none at all, I think, looking into Troy's face and fighting back the memories. Did I fall into a time machine or something?
"We're expanding our business," Lorenzo interjects, his neck stiff and his body taking on that posture that I'd learned so long ago means he's pissed off. Not every man is ruled by their passions, but Lorenzo is certainly one of them. "We are thinking of opening a new gallery in the area."
"A gallery? Impressive," Troy says, taking a sip of water. "What sort of gallery?"
"I studied art when I was in Europe," I reply, nervous about Lorenzo's tone of voice. I don't want a fight, not here, not now. He’s supposed to be okay with us not being together, but this is tough, I’m sure. “I’ve picked up a good eye for art, it seems, and I've cultivated a good list of clients here in the States. It's gotten big enough that we're thinking of maybe making a go of it full time here, instead of our clients having to come to us in Italy."
“Ambitious," Troy says. "I am glad you've found success. It was hard not knowing for so long."
"She is taken care of," Lorenzo nearly spits, and I glance at Troy, worried. I remember how protective of me he was when we were younger, but I'm not an innocent eighteen-year-old girl any more. I shake my head just a little bit, hoping he sees me.
Troy notices and gives me a tiny little nod, and sits back, taking a big breath. "That's good. So, Laurie, I guess you speak Italian too?"
"Uh-huh. And English too. My teachers at pre-school said I was one of the best," Laurie says with more than a touch of pride. "You want me to teach you?"
Troy laughs at her unexpected offer, but nods. "I think that would be great. But, you should probably ask your mama first. I mean, it takes a long time to learn a foreign language, and I'm a guy who spends most of his time getting hit in the head."
"What's that mean?" Laurie asks innocently, and I try not to groan as Lorenzo interrupts Troy before he can answer.
"It means that Mr. Wood may not have the most functional brain, Laurie," Lorenzo says with more than a hint of malice. "It might make him slow at learning.”
Troy looks up, his mouth tight, and he lowers his eyes to look directly at Lorenzo. "I may not be fluently bilingual. I may not even have my degree yet. I know that. But I'm not an idiot, and I don't exactly appreciate being called stupid."
"Bruta selvaggia," Lorenzo shoots back, and now it's my turn to be angry. Taunting Troy is bad manners, but to do it in a language that Laurie fully understands and knows that Troy's being taunted in is over the line.
"Lorenzo!" I snap, pissed off. "There is no need for that. Troy has been polite and is a friend."
"Si, si . . . un amico. Un amico speciale," Lorenzo spits back sarcastically before getting to his feet. "Scusi. I must make the toilet."
Lorenzo storms off, and I can tell by looking at Troy that he understood enough of Lorenzo's words that he grasped the meaning. I wait a bit while we calm down. "Guess you remember more Spanish from school than most people."
"Some," Troy says, obviously still pissed. He looks at Laurie, then at me, and shakes his head. "Maybe this was a bad idea. I don't want to give you a hard time. Maybe I should go."
"Don't, please, Troy?" Laurie says, and she's nearly in tears, seeing her new hero so upset. "Lorenzo didn't mean it."
Troy blinks at Laurie's words, as surprised as I am, and he sits back, nodding. "Okay, Laurie, just for you.”
Laurie nods and smiles, and I'm nearly in tears now, watching Troy father his daughter without even knowing it. Lorenzo comes back and sits down, saying nothing as the waitress brings out the desserts. Troy makes the best of the situation, talking with Laurie and me while eating the tiramisu, even clowning around a little by 'forgetting' a giant glob of cream on his nose, which makes Laurie descend into a gale of giggles. We finish dinner, and Troy is restrained enough to not offer to pay our check, seeing the way Lorenzo is still seething. As we get up to leave, Lorenzo takes Laurie to the car while I get my purse.
"Whitney," Troy says, leaning in close enough that it feels again like old times. "This was . . . this was nice. I'd like to see you guys again, if that's okay."
"I'm not sure, Troy," I reply, trying to control myself. "It may not be . . . safe."
"What is safe?" Troy asks, and slips a piece of paper into my hand. "Please. It's just my phone number. Just a call maybe. At least so I can ask the questions I need to ask."
I slip the paper into my purse and leave. Outside, I see Lorenzo stew
ing next to the car. Laurie's inside, but Lorenzo's still pissed, staring at me over the car. "What?"
"Are you happy now?" he nearly yells, gesturing at the restaurant. "First the game, and now this? Are you happy that you saw Mr. Football Hero? Can we go now? Or do you want some more private time?"
"Lorenzo, what I do is my own business," I say evenly, trying to keep my voice level. "We've discussed that, and you agreed to it as well. I know your feelings, but I won’t be ordered what to do!"
"So you can go running back to him? He's an imbecile, a brute who gets paid to beat up people in front of a crowd! You might as well call him a gladiatore!"
I nod, and open the door of the car. “Maybe, but he was polite and kind to all three of us tonight," I say. "That's better than I can say for you. Now, are you driving, or are you going to stand there?"
Lorenzo thumps down into the driver's seat and jams the keys into the ignition. He sits there for a moment, then shakes his head. "No. I'm sorry, Whitney, but I can’t do this anymore."
He gets out of the car, leaving the keys in the ignition, and now Laurie's crying in her booster seat in the back of the car, watching the two adults who have so far raised her yell and argue. I get out and watch Lorenzo go around to the sidewalk. "Where are you going?"
"Back to the hotel," Lorenzo replies. "If you choose me, well, we can discuss that on the way back to Italy. But if not . . . I can't fight this ghost of yours any longer. I've been a good man to you, Whitney, and I love you with all my heart. But you don’t love me. I can see that. I can see something else, too, and I can't fight that anymore. So I'm not going to. I have too much of my life left to waste it fighting with some ghost that is now flesh. Arrivederci, Whitney."
Lorenzo walks off, and it's my turn to start crying as he leaves. I wipe at my eyes, though, and go around to the driver's seat, sitting behind the wheel. Laurie's still crying, not understanding except that Lorenzo's walked away. "Mama, what happened? Where's Lorenzo?"
"Away," I reply, looking back. "He's . . . well, baby, he may have to go back to Italy. We'll talk about it at Grandma's house. There's a lot to talk about, I think."
"Lorenzo's going? But why? Why is he leaving?" Laurie cries, tears rolling down her face, and I don't have an answer for her. Instead, I drive, hoping that my own tears don't lead to me getting in a wreck before I get to Mom's house.
Chapter 14
Troy
"Troy! Holy shit, man, it’s good to see you!"
I'm smiling as I give my old center a hug. Pete blocked for me for two years, and despite the fact that I'm now bigger than him, it certainly doesn't feel like it. The morning sun drifts through the trees that shade the entrance to Pete's house, and I let go of him, shaking hands instead. "Hey, bro, congratulations. Who'd have guessed that you'd get back with Dani after the Navy?"
"It is pretty freaky," he agrees, laughing. "But I guess that's just love, you know? When I got out of the Navy, I came back here just to chill for a bit and consider my options, and bam! I literally ran into her in the supermarket. Knocked her down coming around the corner to the frozen food aisle."
"So what are you doing now?" I ask, following Pete inside his house. It's a nice little place, not very big, but for a young couple just starting out, it's good. "I mean, besides getting married."
"I'm working for the city now," he says. "The Navy taught me to take care of all the pipes and water systems for a nuclear aircraft carrier, and now I get to do it for the city, minus the nuclear reactor, of course. Oh, the smart asses might call me just a plumber, but I prefer the term hydrology engineer. At least it sounds better on my business card."
I laugh and take a seat in the offered chair. "That's good, man. The city's a good place to work, and you two can build a good family here, you know?"
Pete nods, grinning. "We know. We already have it mapped out. I'm going to work while Dani finishes her doctorate, and after that, Dani's going to support me while I take night classes, turn that associate's I was able to get in the Navy into a four-year degree. Unless, of course, kids come, then we might have to adjust timelines."
"Dani's going to get her doctorate?" I ask, shocked. Dani and I have kept in touch over the years, but it's never been about academics, but instead about other things. She mentioned something about her study, but I thought she was going into social work, not something that requires a doctorate. "Harley Quinn’s getting an MD?"
The door to the kitchen opens, and Dani, still tiny and wearing her hair in twin blonde ponytails, comes out. "Psychologists get PhDs, actually, Troy. Psychiatrists get MDs. And by the way, you are about the only person left in town who is allowed to call me Harley. How're you doing, big guy?"
We exchange hugs, and I have to admit, Dani looks beautiful, mainly because she looks so happy. I sit back down and watch as she gives Pete a kiss before taking a seat on the sofa next to him. I feel the little twinge inside, and I know it, I'm jealous. They look so happy together. "So the honeymoon's set too?"
Pete nods. "We're not exactly rich, you know, but we figured it out. We're going to go up to this lake in Canada, just north of Vancouver for a week. They rent out cabins, and we're going to enjoy the time before fall session starts for Dani. I already got the time off with the city, and things are going well."
I shake my head, amazed. "Good for you guys. I mean that."
"So what's up, Troy?" Pete asks. "When you called and said you wanted to come over, you sounded like you had something you wanted to talk about."
I nodded, my smile fading. "Actually, Pete, if you don't mind, I'd like to talk with Dani alone, please. Just for a few minutes. I promise, I won't tell her about that time we went out in the woods with just a jar of peanut butter and no spare underpants."
Pete laughs at the old joke and gets up. "Sure. You guys want the living room?"
I shake my head, getting up as well. "Actually, if you don't mind, Dani, can we talk in the back yard?"
Dani gives me a nod, and I can see she's slightly nervous. We go into the back yard while Pete settles back on the couch, and I close the glass door behind us, leaving the curtains open so that he can see that I am behaving. After all, I am in the backyard with his fiancée.
"What's up, Troy? You know, if it's about a wedding gift, the register is not the only thing that . . .”
"How long have you known?" I ask quietly, standing in the grass a few yards out from the end of the concrete patio. "About Whitney?"
Dani stops, then sighs. "That she's been back in town? About a week now. She got in with Laurie and Lorenzo on Monday."
"You knew for a week, and you didn't think to mention it to me?" I ask, trying to control my temper. "You, who knows more than any other person in the world how much I've hurt for the past five years? You knew, and you didn't tell me? Why?"
Dani's struggling with her emotions now, and she walks further out into the backyard, probably to prevent Pete from overhearing. "This hurts for me too, you know!" she finally says, turning on me when we reach the fence. "How do you think it felt to have my best friend of fourteen years just up and leave the country? How do you think it feels to watch you, the guy that I consider my best guy friend in the world, tear himself apart in his personal life even as he tears apart every asshole who crosses his path on the football field? How do you think that feels, huh? So yeah, I knew. And yeah, maybe I played it a little selfish not telling you. But, I'm getting married next Saturday! I was hoping, praying, that I wouldn't have to face this situation until after I got married. Is that too much to ask?"
I turn and lean on the back fence and look into their neighbor's yard, trying to control my feelings. "She came to the game with her daughter and that man," I said, my weight causing the fence to groan. They've got a dog, a little dachshund, but it's tied up at the moment, yapping away on its long lead. "Laurie asked me for an autograph, and I had no idea who she was, until he comes up and takes her by the hand, and then out of the fucking blue, Whitney's there next to them. She invited
me to see them at the Cafe Italiano, and things didn't go well. I nearly lost my temper with Laurie's father."
"Laurie's . . .?” Dani asks, not understanding I mean Lorenzo. "What happened then?"
"I gave Whitney my phone number, hoping she'd call. I'm not saying I have to have her back. Yes, it hurts, and that moment on the sidelines, it felt like time slipped back, except it didn’t. All the want was there, but all of the pain and anger too. I feel bad for RJ on the other team. I didn't mean to break his wrist."
"I bet," Dani says. It was in the news—the quarterback I sacked broke his wrist on that last play. He's going to be out another six to eight weeks, and for a quarterback to hurt his throwing wrist like that, it could be even worse. At least it happened in the first week of the pre-season, and he'll have some time to heal. If the Hawks beat his team in the regular season, I want it to be straight up, not because they're playing at less than full strength. "You were a beast out there. Reminded me of your game against Northern."
"Yeah . . . Northern," I reflect. "Where my heart was torn out right afterward. Dani, do you know? Do you know why? I'm guessing from something in the way Whitney said your name at the cafe, you two have been in contact. She didn't just look you up on Facebook, I bet."
Dani nods but doesn't say anything for a while. "Troy, bear with me. Remember, I'm a psychologist now, and we tend to ramble. I'm sure you know that. The Hawks have a sports psychologist on staff. I took a class from the guy my junior year at State."
"You're trying to distract me. It won't work. But go ahead."
"Okay. Hypothetically. Imagine you're me. Your best friend leaves suddenly, and a few weeks later, you get an email from her, swearing you to secrecy. You know that if you tell anyone—including the guy on the football team she's been seeing—about it, that you'll never hear from her again. Now, what would you do?"
"I don't know," I say, thinking. "I guess I'd keep the secret."
Fourth Down Baby: A May-December Romance Page 31
