Take It All Off

by Weston Parker

  I couldn’t say the same for her level of openness, though. Her expression was guarded and her jaw was so tight I worried she might crack a tooth.

  She had the same arrow for a nose as her boys, and her dark eyebrows were knitted so closely together that they formed a single slash above her eyes. I couldn’t make out the exact color of them from here, but they seemed to be much darker than theirs.

  With agility and grace I hadn’t expected from someone who was dressed as the Grim Reaper, she moved toward the car. Marco got out first, gave her a hug, during which I saw his lips moving, then pasted on a forced smile, and came around to open my door.

  “Mama,” he said once he’d helped me out of the low-slung car. “This is Adaline Tidwell. Addy, my mother, Grace Ricci.”

  “You can call me Mrs. Ricci,” the woman bit out. She made no move to shake my hand, hug me, or brush those European kisses to my cheeks.

  Instead, her gaze dropped to look me over from head to toe. When it came back to mine, it seemed she’d already found me wanting.

  I followed Marco’s example by forcing a smile and held up the dish in my hands. “Thank you for inviting me tonight, Mrs. Ricci. It’s an honor to have the opportunity to dine with you and your family. I brought some lasagna. I hope that’s okay.”

  She expelled a sigh through her nostrils. “It’s fine. I suppose you should come inside.”

  Yanking the food out of my outstretched hands, she spun on her heels and marched into the house. She hadn’t thanked me for bringing it, but I didn’t take offense. I had known this was going to be a challenge, and I was determined to do my utmost best to rise to it.

  The house looked very much the same as the others on the street from the outside. On the inside, it was clear that it was a family home and that they’d been there for a long time.

  Every surface was cluttered, the walls were heavy with framed photographs, and the furniture was worn. It smelled like spice and cookies with an undertone that was a little musty.

  I would never tell Marco, but I was surprised as hell to see where he had grown up. It was one thing knowing that he was a self-made man and another entirely to see where he had made himself from.

  His large hand rested on the small of my back, and he guided me farther into the house. When we entered a kitchen that appeared to have been remodeled but was still obviously thoroughly used, Aldo grinned at me from the granite counter.

  He hopped off when we entered and came right over to pull me into his arms. “There she is. I was wondering if you were going to chicken out on us. I’m glad you’re here.”

  “So am I,” I lied, though I had to admit I was happy that he was being more welcoming than his mother. It made me feel like I had two allies by my side instead of just the one.

  Mrs. Ricci dropped my lasagna on the counter with such a clatter that it had me waiting for the sound of breaking glass to come next. When it didn’t, I breathed a silent sigh of relief. I really didn’t want to start out the evening by mopping meat sauce and pasta from the woman’s kitchen.

  Aldo met Marco’s eyes above my head, exchanging a knowing look with him before he cleared his throat and grinned down at me. “What would you like to drink?”

  “We’ll have Grappa.” Marco didn’t hesitate at all. “The big glasses.”

  His firm hand pressed against my back, indicating that he wanted me to move. He steered me into a dining room, pulled out my chair for me, and took the seat next to me.

  Grace—because I’d decided I would call her by her name in my head and there was nothing she could do to stop me—watched us with eyes as sharp as a hawk’s. She lowered herself into the seat directly across from me, folded her arms on the table, and stared at me unwaveringly.

  “So you’re the American who has stolen my son’s heart and wormed her way into his company.”

  My eyes went wide, but Marco intervened in a much sharper tone than I’d have expected. “Mother, she’s a guest in our home.”

  “Yes. Yes.” She flicked a hand in his direction, but her eyes didn’t move away from mine. “How did you convince Marco to give you a job?”

  He tensed beside me and opened his mouth, but I reached for his leg under the table and gave it a squeeze.

  “No, don’t. It’s okay,” I said to him, then turned back to her. “I didn’t convince him of anything, Mrs. Ricci. I was as surprised as anyone when he offered me the job, but the interview I did went well and he decided to take a chance on me.”

  “Where are you from?” She fired off her next question as if she hadn’t heard my answer, but I could practically see her filing the information away in her brain.

  “Portland, Oregon.”

  She tapped a nail against the table. “Hippies live there.”

  It wasn’t a question, but I replied anyway. “There are some, yes.”

  “Are you a hippie?” A pointed glance at my dress. “You look like you could be a hippie. A global logistics company is no place for a hippie, and neither is my son’s bed.”

  I felt heat creeping from my chest, bleeding up my neck and into my cheeks. “I think I’ve been doing well at my job, ma’am.”

  “She has been,” Marco interjected. “Addy is doing an excellent job. The clients love her.”

  “Shame.” Mrs. Ricci brought her gaze back to mine, but before she could continue with her interrogation, Aldo came in with the drinks.

  “Here you go,” he said happily, but then he caught my eye and blanched. “What have I missed?”

  “Mama being rude to her guest,” Marco replied, giving his brother a cutting look that spoke volumes about his feelings toward him at this point. He accepted our drinks, sighed as he handed mine over, and then knocked his back. “I need another one.”

  Aldo jerked his head in a nod and took the glass from him before heading back to the kitchen. Mrs. Ricci, meanwhile, arched an eyebrow at me. “You’ve gotten between my boys. No one gets between my boys.”

  “She hasn’t gotten between us,” Marco argued. “I’m annoyed with Aldo. It’s got nothing to do with her.”

  “On the contrary.” She sniffed derisively. “You two are at odds because your brother was truthful with me about her.”

  “I’ve already told you I would have introduced her to you when the time was right.” He slung his arm on the back of my chair, his fingers stroking my shoulder with a featherlight touch. “Now I’m probably going to have to pay for trauma counseling for a new employee.”

  “You can afford it,” she shot at him before her attention came back to me. “If she couldn’t take the heat, she should have stayed out of the kitchen.”

  I was shocked by how blatantly rude the woman was being, but I kept my cool. Marco had warned me and I’d come prepared. I’d actually expected a lot worse than this. The night was still young, though. There was time for it to get to where I had expected it to go.

  “I’m fine,” I whispered to Marco, but I knew she’d heard me. If not heard the words, she definitely saw me saying something to him. “Is there anything else you’d like to know?”

  “We’re just getting started here,” she assured me as she lifted herself out of her chair. “Let me bring out the food before we continue our chat.”

  Marco turned his entire body to face me as soon as she was out of the room. He lowered his forehead to mine, bringing up a large hand to cup the side of my neck. “I’m sorry. I promise you she’s not usually like this.”

  “I must bring out the best in her,” I teased but jerked away from him when I heard her footsteps already approaching.

  Aldo carried in Marco’s fresh drink, as well as a salad. Mrs. Ricci brought in a lasagna, but it wasn’t mine. She smirked at me, but I kept quiet.

  Fine. If she wanted to dump the whole dish in the trash, then so be it. I hoped she would at least donate it instead of just chucking it, but it wasn’t like I could tell her that.

  Mrs. Ricci fixed plates for both her boys and herself, leaving me for last. I figured i
t was a win I was being fed at all.

  Once our plates were filled and in front of us, I gave her a sickeningly sweet smile. “You said there was more you wanted to know about me?”

  “Yes,” she said. “How long do you plan on staying in this country? My boy can’t get involved with someone who’s just passing through. He’s looking for marriage.”

  “He is?” I asked her before I glanced at him. “You are?”

  “No,” he said at the same time that she nodded. Rolling his eyes, he shook his head at her. “Mother thinks it’s time Aldo and I settled down. It’s not something we agree with.”

  “It’s a wholehearted disagreement from me,” Aldo agreed.

  Their mother sent them both glares before I was treated to being the person on the other end of it again. “You didn’t answer my question. How long are you planning on staying?”

  “For as long as Italy will have me,” I replied. I didn’t even have to think about it. “I’ve lived here for some years now, and I love it. It’s become my home.”

  “What about your real home?” she snapped. “Surely, you must have plans to go back there. Unless you have absolutely no notion of family.”

  “I love my family.” My voice came out a little more forceful than I had intended, which made her raise her brows at Marco.

  “Do you hear how she’s speaking to me?”

  “I do, and I’m surprised it’s taken this long.” He loaded another bite of pasta onto his fork and sent his mother an imploring look. “Stop now, Mama. Please?”

  She inclined her head, but the fire didn’t disappear from her eyes. “Do you know that if Marco is to have a wife, she has to produce twins?”

  “Produce?” I asked before I could stop myself.

  Mrs. Ricci’s brows rose even higher. “Yes. Produce. If she doesn’t conceive twins, she’s not the woman for him.”

  “Not this again,” Aldo groaned. “We’ve been over this, Mama. That’s not really how it works.”

  “It is in our family,” she said firmly. “Do you have any twins in your family, Adaline?”

  Truth be told, I didn’t know. All I knew was that Kyle and I weren’t twins. “I don’t think so, ma’am.”

  “It’s a superstition,” Aldo explained, but his mother interrupted him by slamming her palm down on their table.

  “It’s not a superstition. It’s the truth. She doesn’t even know for sure whether or not she has twins in her family. It’s not a difficult question. There shouldn’t be any ‘thinking’ involved. If a person doesn’t value their own family and its traditions, why would she value ours?”

  Marco ground his teeth beside me. None of us were eating very much, but my appetite was gone, and it looked like he felt the same way. “No one is asking her to value our family traditions or to be part of our family, Mother. After tonight, I’m not sure she would want to join our family. I sure as hell don’t think I would have.”

  “Same,” Aldo said between mouthfuls. He was the only one still trying to eat.

  “You know what I think?” Mrs. Ricci asked no one in particular, but we all knew the question was aimed at me. “I think your Addy is a spoiled brat who was raised by parents in America with no sense of family. Letting her gallivant across the world for years at a time with no plans to return? What kind of parents do that?”

  “The kind who are dead,” I said quietly. My entire body stung from that comment like she’d shoved me into a hornet’s nest. “I was raised without parents, ma’am. No uncles, aunts, or cousins either. That’s why I don’t know if there are twins in my extended family. I have no idea who or where they are.”

  For the first time all night, Mrs. Ricci fell silent. Aldo’s eyes stretched wider than saucers. He swallowed the bite that had been in his mouth with an audible gulp, washing it down with the entire contents of his glass.

  Marco pushed his chair back and dropped his napkin on his plate. “We will be leaving now.”

  He held his hand out for me, and I took it. I felt numb. Shell-shocked maybe. Of all the things I’d expected, an attack on my parents’ characters and the kind of people they had been purely based on the fact that they were American hadn’t been on the list.

  “Thank you for dinner,” I mumbled, even though I hadn’t eaten more than two bites.

  Marco held my hand in a tight grip and led me to his car. I heard footsteps behind us, but I didn’t bother to look who it was.

  As I climbed in, I saw Mrs. Ricci hovering at the driver’s side. I didn’t wave or say anything else to her. There was nothing left to say. She disapproved of me, and right this very minute, the feeling was very much mutual.

  Chapter 27

  Marco

  “I didn’t know,” my mother whispered into my ear as she pulled me into a hug. “I didn’t know she had no parents. That’s heartbreaking. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I didn’t know, either,” I replied, hugging her back even though I was pretty fucking pissed off at her. “I told you, Mama. It’s all still very new. This was exactly the kind of thing I was trying to avoid. If I had known, which I would have if we’d waited until knowing each other better before introducing you, I would have told you.”

  “I’m sorry.” Her chest heaved against mine, and her voice was thick with emotion. “My heart is breaking for her. I didn’t know.”

  “I know, Mama.” I sighed and pressed a kiss to her soft hair. “I need to go, okay? I’ll call you soon.”

  After another squeeze, she released me and stepped away. Shame burned in her eyes before she ducked her head and hurried back into the house.

  Aldo was going to have to make sure she was okay, though. The blow that comment must have dealt Addy was massive. I couldn’t console her and my mother at the same time, and my mother had Aldo.

  Addy had no one else. Literally, apparently. My mother was right about one thing. It was fucking heartbreaking.

  “Are you okay?” I asked her once we’d pulled away from my mom’s house.

  She shrugged, her gaze fixed on something outside the window. “I’ll be fine. Honestly, I will be. I’m used to getting a shock when people bring up my parents unexpectedly. It’ll blow over in a minute.”

  “Even so.” I wrapped her hand in mine and kept it there when I moved it back to the gear lever. “I’m sorry she brought it up. Especially in that way.”

  Addy shrugged again, her teeth sinking into the inside of her cheek. “I’ll admit they’ve never come up quite that way before. It was definitely new.”

  “Fuck, Addy…” I trailed off. I didn’t have the first clue what to say to her, but I figured a good place to start was to share a part of my own painful past. “I have no idea what it must have been like for you not to have been raised by either of your parents, but we lost my dad. I know it’s not the same, but we’re not entirely clueless when it comes to loss.”

  “It sucks.” She exhaled a heavy breath. “But constantly crying about it won’t bring them back. I really am fine. I just need a minute to process.”

  “I get it.” I really did. “You know what else won’t bring them back, but what might comfort you anyway?”

  “Ice cream?” she said with a spark of hope in her voice.

  “Exactly. Do you want to go get some gelato? I know we didn’t eat much, so if you want to get dinner first, we can do that.”

  “No, gelato is fine. I’m not really hungry.”

  “Same here.” I’d lost my appetite when my stomach dropped as we’d pulled up to my mom’s house, and it hadn’t come back since. “There’s a small cafe on the east side of the river that has tables on a bridge. Have you been?”

  “No,” she said, some strength seeping back into her voice. “But it sounds amazing. I’d love to see it.”

  “Then we’ll go there.” I flipped on my indicator and made a U-turn.

  The rest of the drive was silent. Addy definitely wasn’t as talkative as she usually was, but she also hadn’t started crying. It seemed like she�
�d simply retreated to a more thoughtful place, and that was okay with me.

  If I wanted to get to know her better, which I did, I would have to get to know this part of her, too. I found a parking space on a narrow street near the cafe, and Addy and I strolled over the cobblestones hand in hand as we made our way there.

  We walked slowly, leisurely. A slight smile played on her lips when I pointed the cafe out to her. “Wow. That looks like something that should be in a painting or a postcard.”

  I nodded. “It has been featured on a few postcards, as far as I know.”

  The shop sat right on the banks of the river. It was illuminated by a single bulb on the inside, the color of which glowed orange with age.

  Intricate streetlamps from a bygone era and the umbrellas that were open above the few small tables dotted along the bridge gave it an artistic feel. There had often been photographers around when I’d come here at night, but it was quiet now. Only one of the other tables was occupied, and the shopkeeper sat on a plastic chair out front smoking a thin cigarette.

  When he saw us approaching, he stubbed it out and went inside. I ordered our gelato and carried it out to where Addy was leaning against the railing facing the river.

  “Thank you,” she said when I handed it over. “It’s really beautiful here. I’m glad we came.”

  “Yeah, me too.” I dipped my spoon into the creamy snack, licking it off slowly to savor the taste.

  Addy did the same thing, but she did it almost absentmindedly. Her head snapped to mine suddenly, like an important thought had occurred to her. “I do have family. My brother. He raised me. I’m not ‘gallivanting’ around the world to get away from him.”

  I put one of my hands over hers on the railing. “You must miss him.”

  “Every day.” She rolled her head back and examined the stars. “If there’s anything that would convince me to go back, it’s him.”

  “Does he support you being here?”

  She nodded. “He even loaned me some of the money I needed to get settled here at first. I’ve paid him back, but I don’t think I’ll ever stop owing him for giving me the opportunity.”