by Brinda Berry
“He didn’t believe me.” She passes me the ticket and turns the motor back on. “Jerk.”
I exhale. “I’ll pay your ticket. You wouldn’t have been speeding if it weren’t for me.” I place the ticket in the console and notice a yellow toy car sitting in her cup holder.
“Don’t worry about that right now. We’re almost there.” We pull back onto the road. “Five more minutes.”
We’re at the hospital in less than five. I race into the main entrance and ask the woman at the night desk for directions to ICU.
She points and hands me the hospital’s paper map.
“Thanks for the ride,” I say to Makenna. I grab one of the hospital’s pens from a container. “Your number? I want to pay for the ticket,” I add as an excuse.
“I’ll come with you. You shouldn’t go alone. Just in case…” She doesn’t finish her thought and I’m glad.
“All right.”
Nonna lies unmoving on the hospital bed. She looks small and frail, like a wrinkled child. The equipment on each side of her unnerves me with all the beeping and humming. Lights and readouts. Wires and tubes everywhere.
I shift closer to take her cool hand in my warm one. The IV needle has bruised the delicate skin of her hand. I press a light kiss to her wrinkled forehead.
Makenna hangs back. I look at her questioningly. Is she uncomfortable here? She answers my unspoken question with a smile.
Her eyelids flutter open. “Antonio?”
This alarms me more than anything, as Antonio was my grandfather’s name.
“It’s me, Nonna. It’s Aiden.” I sweep her hair from her face. “Why are you here?” I tease. “Are you trying to catch a doctor now? Is that what this is about?”
Her lips tip into a smile on one side. “Aiden.”
“Yes. I came right away.”
Makenna waves at me and points toward the door to let me know she’s stepping outside. I nod at her.
Nonna’s gaze flicks to the foot of the bed where Makenna stands. “Who is this?”
Makenna smiles at Nonna. “Hi,” she says softly. “I’m Mak. I was just leaving so you two can have some privacy.”
“Come closer.” Nonna motions. “Let me see you, Mak.”
Makenna looks to me and then to Nonna as if unsure of what to do.
“Now, before I’m dead.” Nonna rolls her eyes. There’s the woman I know. Sassy and demanding, no matter the circumstances. She could lead an army from a hospital bed.
Mak tilts her head at me with wide eyes. “OK, then.” She walks forward. “Hi. It’s nice to meet you, ma’am.”
“You may call me Nonna.” She reaches out to take Makenna’s hand.
I sit on the side of her bed and look out the glass walls. I count three nurses at the oval desk in the center of ICU. I scan the area for a doctor. Absently, I glance at Makenna. “Nonna means grandmother.”
“Nonna,” she repeats. “That’s beautiful.”
“Finally,” my grandmother says. “He is finally granting my dying wish.”
My head jerks back to Nonna. Dying wish? My palms grow sweaty and I rub them on my thighs.
She turns away from Makenna but still holds her hand. “This is the one, isn’t she?”
Nonna’s eyes—eyes that still seem as sharp as they did the last time I visited her—fill with tears.
“What is it? What’s wrong? Are you hurting?” I push off the bed and look to the nursing station.
“Why did you keep this a secret? You are like your father. You didn’t want to tell me until I could meet her.” She gives a heavy sigh and looks away from me. “Mak. I know he is stubborn. But he is a good man. You will take good care of him. I can see that you love him. I don’t know why he didn’t tell me earlier. I don’t like surprises.”
Ah, shit. Nonna is clearly confused. I look to Makenna to see her reaction. She winks at me and steps even closer to Nonna.
Wow. The girl takes everything in stride. And her conspirator’s wink does something weird to my chest.
“Tell you what?” Makenna says.
“That he has finally found someone to marry.” Fat tears roll down Nonna’s thin cheeks. “He is a good man.”
I shuffle nervously. How fragile is she in this state? “Nonna, I—”
Makenna clears her throat to stop my words. “You’re right. He is a good one.”
For a brief second, I stare at her. She sounds sincere.
Nonna exhales, blowing the air out like she’s been running. “I’m so tired. And what happened to your face, Aiden?”
“Makenna hit me. But that’s beside the point—”
Nonna hoots, her laughter a little psychotic in the quiet hospital. “It’s true love. It’s good that you have passion.”
My gaze snaps to Makenna’s. Her lips part into a slow smile, like maybe she’s thinking about our kiss or whether or not there is something between us that others can see. Or maybe I’m imagining it all.
She looks back to Nonna.
The nurse enters the room, giving us a friendly smile. She reads the paper on her clipboard, then looks up at Nonna. “How are you, Mrs. Alesini?”
“Better,” she says on a sigh, her voice smaller and weaker. She must be tiring with all this talk.
I make eye contact with the nurse. “Can I talk with you in a minute after you finish? I’d like to get all the details.”
“My grandson brought his future wife,” Nonna says to the nurse. “Isn’t she beautiful? Doesn’t she have lovely skin? And look at her full bosom!”
Heat crawls up my face and I avoid looking anywhere near Makenna. Nonna is clearly on some good drugs.
“Yes, she’s very pretty,” the nurse says but looks at me. “What happened to your eye?”
“An accident.” I stare at Makenna, who hasn’t said a thing to deny Nonna’s misunderstanding.
The nurse returns her attention to the clipboard. “It’s time for me to check Mrs. Alesini. I’m sorry, but you both will have to wait outside. There’s a special ICU waiting room.”
Nonna releases Makenna’s hand. “I am so tired.”
“We’ll be waiting.” I lean over and kiss her weathered cheek, then walk carefully around the bed and out of Nonna’s room.
Makenna follows me to the waiting room. A large family sits together on one side, so I lead her to the opposite end.
“You didn’t have to do that.” I place my hands on my hips and look at my feet. “About letting her think that you and I… But it was nice. It meant a lot. I mean…just in case something happens and she…” My voice cracks so I stop talking.
Makenna grabs my forearm and rubs along the bare skin, sending an electric current of awareness throughout my entire body. I lift my head and meet her gaze.
I lean in, wishing for nothing more than to be able to take her in my arms. The desire for comfort almost overwhelms me, but I step back before I can let myself do something stupid.
We barely know each other, aside from my stolen kiss.
Then she puts both arms around me and squeezes. Her head fits in the curve of my neck. “You are a good man.”
When she pulls away, I want to grab her hands and place her back in the spot she’s left. But it’s too late.
“I wanted to make her happy.” Makenna sits in the nearest chair. “Your grandma’s sweet. A little bossy, but sweet. And loopy. She won’t remember any of it. I hope someone would do that for me.”
“Thanks for coming out here with me. You must have somewhere you need to go. I’m going to stick around here.” I pull my phone out. “I still don’t have your number.”
“I won’t let you pay the ticket,” she says.
“You know that’s not the only reason I want it.”
“Yeah. I should go. I have to be up early for my shift at Angel’s. It’s a shelter where I volunteer.” She stands and takes two steps back, glances over at the hallway leading to the elevators, then back at me. “Are you sure you’ll be OK? Someone is coming to be wit
h you?”
She wants to stay with me. I’m positive she does and the knowledge fills me with a warm, fuzzy feeling. It’s only been hours and something has connected us to each other.
I want to know everything about her. I want to know about her career, her likes and dislikes, even why she won’t give me her number. Maybe she’s in a relationship and I shouldn’t have kissed her.
Idiot. I didn’t even ask. But she feels like she’s mine already. Dammit. This is Nonna’s fault.
“I’ll be fine,” I say. I need to ask her. If there’s a reason she won’t let me call, I can get her out of my head. Then I can close this chapter in my search for the perfect girl. “Hey. Are you seeing someone? Because if you are, I’m sorry I…”
She pulls her T-shirt straight and fidgets with the waist of her jeans, looking so damn cute I want to scoop her up and kiss her again.
“It’s not like that, but I have someone that I spend a lot of time with,” she says.
I stop breathing for a second. Somehow, I hadn’t expected that answer. Disappointment presses on every cell of my body. “Oh. Sure. I understand.”
Makenna takes two more steps backward in the direction of the hallway. “It’s complicated.”
“You don’t have to explain.” Maybe she feels guilty that I kissed her at midnight and it was more than an innocent kiss between strangers. It ignited a spark between us.
She takes another step back and she’s at the threshold of the hallway. “I have a kid. Ryder. And he’s my life.”
I open my mouth to argue, but I’m not sure what to say. A child. She’s a mother. What do I say? I haven’t been around kids, but I think I like them.
I think I was meant to kiss you tonight.
Maybe Nonna’s right and I need to be with you.
“It was nice being your fiancée for a few minutes in there, Aiden Alesini,” she says, my name sounding like a song on her lips. And then she’s gone.
Chapter Three
In the Cards
One month ago
Aiden
My Sicilian grandmother believes in destiny. She also believes she will be dead within the year.
She demonstrates this at my weekly summoning to her house.
“I think I am leaving this world today,” Nonna says dramatically into the phone. “I cannot feel my hands.”
“I’m pulling into your drive now. What’s wrong with your hands?” I hit the brake and park beside her Lincoln Town car.
The red velvet curtains in her front window pull to the side and she waves at me. “Oh, you’re here. In that case, I’m fine.”
Exactly as I thought. Checking myself in the mirror, I grimace. Nonna hates my scruffy face, but I didn’t have time to shave this morning. She’ll have to deal with it.
Since I’m accustomed to her grandma-who-cried-wolf act, I temper her demand with some suspicion. I always show up.
“What took you so long? What if I fall and can’t get up?” she says as I follow her into the kitchen, her tracksuit pants making a wisp-wisp-wisp sound as she walks.
She’s a hip grandma with her baseball cap and designer gym clothes. She’s also very active. Her schedule includes visits three times a week to the gym where I work in my day job.
“Did you want me to speed?” I sit at her kitchen table and open the newspaper. She may be hip, but she won’t accept the electronic age as her news source.
She makes a displeased tutting noise with her tongue and then says a few words in Sicilian. Even though she raised me, I still can’t translate her muttering. All I catch is “meschino,” meaning poor thing, I think. As a third generation Sicilian, I really know very little about Sicily and its language.
I tilt my head at her. “Nonna, I’m here now.”
“When are you bringing a girl with you?” She pushes a plate of bread fritters at me.
“I don’t know, Nonna. You know I don’t eat bread. Too many bad carbs.” I lick my lips and inhale the yeasty aroma. My mouth waters, knowing I cannot resist my favorite. I surrender and pull a crusty end from the nearest fritter.
“I know, but life must be enjoyed,” she says and watches me with delight. “How old are you?”
She knows I’ve just had my twenty-fourth birthday. This is her way of beginning the conversation about my failing to fulfill her wishes. I’ve been through this same dialogue every week of the past year. “Too old to be asked this question.”
“Your father was twenty-five. He already had a child. What do you think about that?” She pushes the entire platter of bread fritters closer to me.
“I think he and Mom didn’t use protection.” I blink at her innocently, but she catches my meaning and pulls the platter back to her.
“You don’t deserve these. Life will end before you know it. I could pass next week. I am eighty-nine.”
I reach across to take more fritter, and she smacks my hand in a surprisingly sharp blow.
“Ouch,” I grab the rest of the fritter.
“Do you know how old my mother was when she passed?”
“Eighty-nine.” I hate this part of the conversation. I love my grandmother, but this is ridiculous. Are all old people this obsessive?
I grab a linen napkin—the only kind she keeps on the table—and wipe the corners of my mouth. Even though my grandmother has lived here longer than she lived in Sicily, she still holds tightly to her superstitions. She believes the women in her family die before they reach ninety. Her friend Esme feeds her fear with a weekly tarot card reading.
Her eyes are kind now. “And her mother was eighty-nine when she passed. You must keep your eyes open for your wife this year.”
“I keep them wide-open,” I say and roll my eyes so she’ll quit watering that seed in my brain. “Nonna,” I scold. “It’s not easy to meet somebody that I’m interested in marrying.”
She points to a spot in front of her on the table as if she’s seeing the cards again. “She could pass by you on the street and you’ll miss her if you aren’t watching.” Her gaze flicks up to meet mine. “You are too picky.”
I stand and push away from the table before she can continue. “Nonna, it’s always nice to see you.” Leaning in to kiss her wrinkled cheek, I whisper, “I can’t find a woman as wonderful as you. Besides, I’m only on number four of my list of goals. I’ll start my own health club; then I’ll find a woman I want to marry. Be patient.”
She grabs my face with both hands so I’m forced to make eye contact. “I want to meet this woman before I die. I want you to know the pleasures of a good woman.”
I pull out of her hands and grin mischievously as I stand straight. “You’re too late Nonna. I’ve known plenty of pleasures already.”
She grabs my discarded napkin and throws it at me. “You are a wicked boy. Find a bride. Take me and your bride to Sicily so I can visit once more before I die. I will buy you the health club. I have plenty of money.”
Hurrying from the room, I glance over my shoulder and see her quick on my heels. “Bye, Nonna. See you in a week.”
“Aiden, you’re straining my heart. Maybe I’ll be here. Maybe I won’t.”
Chapter Four
All for Charity
New Year’s Day
Makenna
“Mother?” I twist the stubborn doorknob of her house and enter, putting Ryder on his feet. Her house is an old Craftsman, identical to mine in look and layout. Neither of us owns our houses, but renting isn’t bad and at least we are neighbors.
I drop the bag of Ryder’s stuff on the floor and stretch my arms, stiff from carrying a three-year-old and a heavy bag across the lawns.
“Happy New Year.” Mom pads into the room wearing her slippers and robe. She holds out her arms to Ryder. “Come to Grandma.”
Ryder tumbles into her embrace. He snuggles his nose into her neck, and she swings him up and makes a squealing sound that he loves. She lowers her lips and makes smacking sounds against his cheek.
I shake my head at her. �
�You have to quit picking him up. He’s getting too heavy.”
“Did you carry him across?”
“Well yes, but I’m younger than you are.” She doesn’t have to know that he’s killing my back.
“You stop and I’ll stop,” she says and carries him on her hip into the kitchen. The smell of brewing coffee tempts me to stay awhile. But getting ready with Ryder is always a challenge and never leaves me extra time in the mornings.
“I’m serving breakfast at Angel’s so I’d better head out.” I check the clock. Five-thirty a.m. I linger for a minute, watching them together. “Ryder, be good and I’ll see you later.”
“No,” he says and smirks at me. This is a standard answer for him.
“Yes.” I run over to him and rub his bedhead. Chocolate curls sprout in disarray around his angelic face.
Mom grabs herself a coffee cup from the cupboard. “I forgot to ask if you had a good time last night. Did your concert go well?”
“I wouldn’t call it a concert. I told you. I was stepping in for their lead singer at a bar downtown. Anyway, yeah. It was fine.”
Fine. So fine, I dreamed of gray-eyed Aiden Alesini and his lips and his hands. The way his eyes glittered and locked on me like he wanted me. But not just that. It was the timbre of his voice making everything he said so musical.
And the way he loves his grandmother. Who wouldn’t want that depth of affection directed at her?
This morning, I considered calling the hospital to check on Nonna. It was a stupid thought. They don’t give health updates to strangers.
Mama pours her coffee and takes a quick sip. “Oh good. Don’t worry about me and Ryder. I love the days when you let me have him. We’ll see you later. Oh, wait. Did Jared call again about his visitation with Ryder? Did you two work out a schedule?”
Ryder’s sharp gaze meets mine. Is he watching for my reaction? Does he sense my distrust? I try so hard to hide it.
“I haven’t heard from Jared,” I say evenly. “He’s still on tour. When he comes home—if he comes home—he can see his son.”
