by L. D. Davis
I kept my arms crossed tightly across my chest and shook my head again. “You may have duped me into loving you, Marco Manmoneypockets—”
“Mangini,” he interjected.
“—and you may have gotten away with giving me new clothes and paying for that medical stuff—which, by the way, I’m still mad at you about, make no mistake—but none of that changes the fact that I don’t want your money.”
“Tesoro, you’re going to have to put your pride away on this one.”
“There is nothing wrong with me wanting to take care of my family by my own means.” His head tilted forward slightly as he peered down at me. “Did you not only a half hour ago confirm I am your family?”
I felt the blush in my cheeks as I remembered that brief exchange and the sizzling kiss that followed. I dropped my defensive stance and my voice softened, but I didn’t give in.
“I don’t want to get accustomed to using your money. I need to prove that I’m capable of taking care of things on my own.”
He stared at me for a minute, his expression thoughtful, but I couldn’t discern what those thoughts were.
“One of the biggest reasons you were never able to leave Gavin was because you were financially dependent on him. You felt trapped with him. Maybe you even believed he purposely trapped you that way.”
My first instinct was to lash out with denial and harsh words, but he knew me too well now. I couldn’t hide behind a wall of hostility anymore. Marco knew the secret entrance right through that wall.
I couldn’t answer him calmly either, not with so many fresh emotions rolling through me. Instead, I said nothing as I pushed my hair back with an anxious hand.
“I am not going to lie to you, Lydia. I do want to trap you, put you in a box sealed up tight and make sure you never leave me, but not in that way. Not with something as impermanent as money. Anything can happen, and I can lose it all, lose everything material. I want to trap you with my heart, with my loyalty, with my unwavering love, and I want to be trapped by you as well. Take the card, amore mio. Let me take care of you, not because I feel you are incapable of caring for yourself and the children, but because I love you.”
I blinked back tears as my voice quavered. “Why do you always have to say the most perfect words? It’s really fucking annoying.”
He chuckled and kissed my lips as he slipped the card into my back pocket. “Ti amo.”
“Love you back.”
His tongue slipped between my lips, swept into my mouth, making me shiver head to toe. I nipped at his bottom lip and he groaned before he kissed me deep and hard, his hands squeezing my ass as he pulled me against him.
“We better stop,” he breathed across my lips between kisses.
My hands were under his shirt, fingers dragging across his warm skin. “Mmm. Why?”
“You know. Your monthly visitor.”
I giggled and looked up into his face. “Are you, Marco Mangina—”
“Mangini.”
“—too shy to say period or menstruation?”
His eyebrows slanted down. “The topic is not exactly a mood enhancer.”
I laughed again and continued to run my hands all over his stomach and chest. “Well, there are other things we can do. You’re a man well versed in pleasure, so I am sure you are aware of those things.”
Desire flared in his blue eyes. “Maybe I want you to show me.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck. “Take me upstairs and maybe I will.”
He growled as he lifted me into his arms. His mouth crashed down on mine as my legs went around him. We crashed into a wall, a table, and another wall before we even started up the stairs. There was a lot of laughter, a lot of kissing. When we were nearly at the top of the stairs, Marco tripped, and we went down, with him on top of me. I didn’t let go of him as I laughed even harder.
My amusement was cut off when I felt his mouth on my neck, and then my throat. Indifferent to our awkward position, half on the landing, half on the stairs, Marco pushed my shirt up over my belly and moved down my body. He kissed across my stomach, swirled his tongue over my belly button and continued up my torso as he pushed up my shirt. When he latched on to a nipple through the lace of my bra, my body tried to arch off the stairs, only to meet his hard abdomen. He moaned as he moved to the other one, as if he couldn’t wait to get a taste of it. After a moment, he went on kissing my body, until my shirt was being tossed above me somewhere, and his mouth was again on mine. His arms went around me, and I felt myself being lifted as he began to stand up. I put my arms and legs around him again, and he carried me to my bedroom, this time without crashing into anything but each other.
Chapter Seven
I thought about Gavin. I let myself think of him in ways I hadn’t been able to do for more than a year, maybe even before he died. It wasn’t just the Gavin of the recent past I thought about, the man I’d been married to, but the man I had known long before that. I thought of the boy he’d been back when life was easier, and we were just kids who did kid things, when it was always him and Lily, and I was just the annoying younger sister always trying to hang on. Some of the memories made me smile or laugh to myself, but every thought of him was also unbearable. For the first time since his death, I let all my grief in.
I had to grieve alone. When Gavin died, I hadn’t grieved with everyone else. I hadn’t taken the time to commiserate with his parents, or to share memories with friends, or to accept my mother’s attempts at comfort. I hadn’t wanted comfort or to share my sadness. I hadn’t wanted to feel. As far as my deceased husband was concerned, I only had enough room in me for my guilt. No one, including my children, spoke about him to me anymore except in a general way. They’d all gotten used to me brushing them off or redirecting conversation whenever they wanted to talk about him.
With a warped sense of protectiveness for my children, I had removed almost all traces of my husband from our home. Most pictures were placed in albums that mostly stayed put in a bottom drawer in my bedroom. I had my mother clean out Gavin’s closet before I even got home from the hospital. Small items a family man would usually leave around the house like keys, hats, sunglasses, the errant tie, his mail and favorite magazines, all of that was collected the moment I was able to hobble around. I put it all in a box and told my mother to do something with it. Where she’d put that box and the rest of his belongings, I didn’t know. I’d never asked, and when she’d tried to volunteer the information, I had shut her down. If it wasn’t for our memories, most people wouldn’t know there had once been a man in our home before Marco. I had to wonder how much I’d damaged my kids by my actions, whether it was reversible, or once they got older and understood what I’d done, if they would ever forgive me.
Ugh. Marco made me spill this box of emotional grenades and left me standing in the middle of it all with all the pins in my hand. Granted, he hadn’t expected to have a family emergency that would take him thousands of miles away.
Two weeks went by, and he was still there in Italy. His brother’s prognosis was not good, and the treatments for the cancer were aggressive. His illness took a heavy emotional toll on his wife, kids, and the rest of the family, and Celia now had a lot more on her plate. I could relate to that, so I understood why Marco thought he had to stay to support his sister-in-law. A part of me was uncomfortable with that whole scene for obvious reasons, but the poor woman’s husband could possibly be dying. I kept my silly, immature jealousy to myself when I spoke to him. In fact, I pretty much avoided discussing any kind of touchy-feely topics with Marco. He had enough to worry about.
“How are you doing?” he asked, just as he had every day since he left.
I released a great big sigh of exhaustion, which made his eyebrows rise. I was in my bedroom, and presumably, he was in his. He was in bed, his eyes heavy with sleep. It was only a little after nine at night in Columbus, but it was a little after three in the morning where he was. I felt bad he stayed up to talk to me. Our normal phone calls
took place a few hours earlier in the evening, but he wanted to speak to me without the kids. I hoped he didn’t want phone or video sex or anything, because I wasn’t sure I could perform at all in my current mental state, let alone like that.
“What’s wrong, Tesoro?”
“Mandy has officially come into her terrible twos.”
He grinned but groaned. “Oh, no. She seemed fine earlier.”
“This morning she threw all her cereal on the floor because ‘I dono want eerios!’ When I tried to scold her, she turned her head, crossed her little arms, and said ‘weemewone.’ It’s not funny, Marco.”
He covered his mouth with one hand, but it was obvious he was still laughing.
“She sounds a lot like her mother. You can’t be surprised she is taking after you.”
“You know what? Weemewone.”
His amusement was contagious, and I found myself giggling softly. It felt good to laugh after walking around in a fog most of each day.
“And how are you, sweetheart?” he asked again a moment later.
I swiped my hair from my face. “Well, I have some bad news.”
“Mandy’s terrible twos isn’t bad news?”
“Some more bad news then. Maureen will be leaving right before Christmas.”
Marco’s amusement was quickly replaced by concern. He sat up, making the phone show me an image of the ceiling for a moment. “Why? Is she not happy with us? Does she need more money?”
“Her girlfriend got a promotion and the new position is in Seattle. Her girlfriend is moving ahead while Maureen takes care of closing everything out here. They’re getting married.”
“Oh. That’s wonderful for her, sad for us. Do you think you can find a suitable nanny by then?”
I bit my lip. “Probably, if I start to look soon. It took me a long time to choose Maureen, but Kyle has been paying for the service. I don’t want to continue to use his money. I think I need to come up with another option.”
He seemed to hesitate, which automatically made me narrow my eyes in suspicion. “Actually, I’ve taken over that expense.”
My jaw dropped, and if I were standing up, my hand would have been on my hip.
“Since when?”
He rubbed the stubble on his jaw, making a rasping sound I could hear easily through the phone. “Since the week after you left Philadelphia.”
I blinked. Once. Twice. Thrice. “And was anyone planning to tell me?”
He shrugged, completely unapologetic. “You would have balked at the idea.”
“Yeah! I would have! Is there anything else you need to tell me? Have you donated one of my kidneys, or somehow purchased my house without my notice as well?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Tesoro. I’d much rather you sell your house to a family who needs it and come live at the cabin with me.”
It was said so lightly, with a trace of humor, I didn’t know if he was serious. Before I could respond to that, he went back to the original topic.
“So, are we getting a new nanny? Should we start to look now?”
I was irritated and made sure I didn’t mask it as I glared at his image on the phone, but I allowed myself to be diverted for the time being. “I don’t think so. I don’t really need one now. I didn’t really need Maureen after those first couple months following Mom’s heart attack. I only work part time.”
“Will Shawna and Cliff babysit?”
“They would if I asked, but I don’t ask, because they would insist on taking me to work, and I don’t think it’s fair that they drive all the way over here, babysit, and take me to work.”
He nodded as if he understood. “And your mom?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Since my meltdown in my bedroom, Mom had been spending most of her days and nights with Wes. Every time she left my house, she left with another bag of stuff, as if she were slowly migrating all her belongings to his place.
“I think she might move out,” I confessed.
Marco’s brow creased, and I felt like he was studying my face. “How do you feel about that?”
I shrugged again. “She’s an adult, right? Anyway, I don’t want to overwhelm her. I was thinking of asking Holly. She’s trying to earn some extra money, and the kids really like her.”
Holly was the daughter of one of my mother’s friends. I’d known her since she was a little girl and trusted her with the kids. She’d been babysitting for me off and on for three years since she was fifteen.
“Yeah, but what about the days you have to be at work earlier in the day? Who will watch Mandy?”
“I’ll have to change my hours or put her in daycare.”
There was a pregnant pause. “You don’t have to work.”
I pointed a finger at the phone. “Don’t start with that. You know I don’t…that I can’t…”
Exasperation crossed his face, making his brows pull down and his eyes narrow. “I know that you don’t and can’t trust me not to take care of you. So, what will you do?”
I averted my eyes, because what he said was the absolute truth. I trusted him with much, but still didn’t trust him entirely. “I’ll have to think about it. I have some time. I’ll figure it out.”
“We will figure it out.”
“You’re not here. Speaking of which, I don’t suppose you’ll make it for Thanksgiving.”
His smile was remorseful and sad. “Sorry, Tesoro, I don’t think so. Massimo is so sick from his treatments. Celia is trying to be strong for him and the children, but it’s very hard on her.”
I loathed the jealousy that sparked in my chest over his concern for his ex-girlfriend slash sister-in-law. Her husband was most likely dying for heaven’s sake. Of course she would need all the support she could get. Even if that support was coming from my boyfriend.
“It’s cool. I understand.” And I did understand, despite my other feelings and thoughts on the matter.
Marco stared at me again, as if he could read my insides perfectly fine on his screen. “So, how are you?”
I let out a small chuckle and pushed my hair back. “You’ve asked me that like three times already.”
“And you’ve managed to avoid the question three times.”
“That’s not true. I answered each time.”
“No, you did not.”
“Yes. I did.”
“The first time I asked, you told me about Mandy’s terrible twos. The second time I asked, you told me about Maureen. While both of those people and their situations are directly linked to you, neither answers the question of how you are doing.”
I threw a hand up, frustrated. “I’m fine, Marco.”
Again, his eyes bored into me, and I tried not to look away, but the pen on the bedside table suddenly seemed extremely interesting.
“Lydia,” he began, but I didn’t want to—could not—do this with him right now. It took all my energy not to appear as raw on the outside as I felt inside.
I interrupted him. It was time to wrap the phone call up before he dug any deeper. “You look tired. I’m sorry you have to wake up to call me. Maybe I should get up to call you instead next time.”
“I was already awake. Celia and I were up late talking.”
My head tipped to one side, and it was my turn to study the phone, to pay closer attention to his background. I’d caught plenty of glimpses of his childhood bedroom, and I only just then realized everything was different—the bedding, the headboard, and even the way the lamp cast light on him.
“You’re not at your parents,” I said in realization.
“No. I thought I mentioned that I’ve been staying at Massimo and Celia’s these past few days.”
“I’m pretty certain you didn’t mention that fact.”
“I am sorry. I guess it slipped my mind.”
I forced one side of my mouth up in a tight, half smile. “Guess so. Listen, I think I hear Mandy getting out of bed again. I better go before she gets into something.”
&n
bsp; Lie. Total lie. Mandy was sound asleep.
Before Marco could utter a word, I blew him a kiss. “Love you. Goodnight.”
I ended the call and turned off the volume so I wouldn’t hear the phone ring when he called me back.
Chapter Eight
My grief for Gavin didn’t abate. It wasn’t any deeper either, but it clung to me. I didn’t want to go back to ignoring my feelings surrounding my marriage and his death, but I didn’t know how to get through a day without that twisting sensation in my gut, the pressure in my chest, and the barely repressed tears.
I still couldn’t talk to Marco about the way I felt. He continued to ask how I was doing, and I continued to avoid giving a real response. It was hard enough in general for me to share my feelings, but also, I didn’t want to add to his troubles. My issues in the grand scheme of things were far less important than all he had to deal with. Even if I wanted to tell him, there was never a chance. His time was consumed more each day by his family. More than once our conversations were interrupted or cut short by someone or something over there. The past few nights, he’d been so tired after his long days with his family and his late nights with Celia, that he’d fallen asleep after only a few minutes.
I wasn’t the only one going through a rough time. Gavi’s mood darkened every day. He was usually a well-behaved child, and that wasn’t something I said just because I was his mother. His teachers and other parents frequently raved about his good behavior, but recently, there had been incidents at school with other kids. Notes were sent to me about his disobedience to his teachers. At home, he was talking back and yelling at his sisters for the smallest reasons, and he was mouthy with me.
The Sunday before Thanksgiving, things came to a head. I sat down with the kids to tell them it would just be us for the holiday. It was going to be our first time alone, just me and them. Last year my mother, Cliff, and Shawna had been there with us, and of course, all the years before that, their father had been there. This year, Shawna and Cliff were taking a trip to Florida to see friends. My mom had accepted an invitation from Wes’s sister, who lived a couple hours northeast in Akron. Marco, of course, was still in Italy and the likelihood of him coming back by Thursday was slim to none.
