Gulp. She so did. But it would be all right because as it happened, Daddy-o also believed in love, romance and great Italian food. He too was a romantic, in love with love. Just not necessarily Riley. But after over a decade as a widower, her father had suddenly fallen in love with Eileen, a woman ten years his senior. If that wasn’t a testament to the belief in romance and happily ever after, what was? Sophia would just have to gently explain that she didn’t believe in divorce any more than he or Mama had. That when, and if, she divorced Riley it would have to be after…what, exactly? Would she ever be ready to divorce Riley? Could she stay married to someone who she essentially didn’t really know any longer? Did he even want kids? Was she ever going to ask him?
She wondered what Mama would have to say about this.
After Scott and the girls left, Sophia showered and made a decision. She cleaned the kitchen, scrubbed the table (with bleach) and packed a lunch. Slices of Gouda cheese, salami, multi-grain crackers, a loaf of rye bread, mustard, green pimento olives and Angie’s pasta salad. A bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon from Brooke and Billy’s stash, one she’d been saving for a special occasion. She was headed to have lunch with her husband. He now had office hours like a regular Joe and she knew exactly where to find him. Plus, she’d never brought lunch to him before as that wouldn’t have worked so well in their prior situation.
She definitely had to talk to him and the sooner the better. If Daddy-o and Eileen were headed home and she in fact had to explain everything, better to know exactly where she stood with Riley. Did he or did he not want kids? Because that was a deal breaker, no matter how much he might say he loved her. If they wanted different lives, her now more mature twenty-nine-year-old brain realized that she’d never be happy in the long run. It would never work. The sooner she got this information the better it would be, even if the thought of asking him terrified her. No use in dragging it out for another six years.
She drove to the small police station at the edge of town, just on the other side of the street from Firehouse 54. While she’d been down to the firehouse a few times before, she couldn’t say she’d ever been to the police station and only seen it from the outside. The old brick building stood in contrast to most of the stucco ones in the area, but she’d learned a while ago from Bert that it had originally been the first newspaper printing offices back when the town had been founded.
Carrying her picnic basket in one hand, she pushed open the heavy glass door with the other one.
“Hi, Claire,” Sophia said. Claire used to come by Gen’s bakery on a regular basis and back when Sophia used to work part-time for Gen, she’d waited on her dozens of times.
She shot up from her chair. “Hi, Mrs. Jacobs.”
“Stop it. How long have we known each other? You always called me Sophia.”
“Sorry. I’m still getting used to all this newness around here. Chief came in this morning whistling when he usually comes in growling.”
Nice to hear. Sophia smiled. “Is uh, my husband in? I brought him lunch.”
“Yep,” Claire said, pointing. “His door is always open.”
My husband. My husband. The words felt strange on her lips but she had a hell of a lot easier time saying them than ‘divorce.’ Sophia rounded the corner down the hallway and stopped outside the door with the placard that read, ‘Riley Jacobs – Chief of Police’. My. So official. The door was cracked slightly, and Sophia pushed it open the rest of the way.
Riley sat at his desk, sleeves of his white button down pushed up to his elbows, still wearing his shoulder holster. He glanced up from a pile of papers on his desk and when his eyes fixed on Sophia, they lit up with such obvious happiness that she felt a little weak in the knees.
“Hey.” He stood and moved toward her. “What’s all this?”
“I brought you lunch.”
“Get out. Seriously?”
“You do take a lunch break, don’t you?” She set the picnic basket on the table and started making room.
“Sometimes, usually from the vending machine.” He helped by moving piles of paper out of the way. “No one ever brings me lunch. Not even Mrs. Anderson, though she did bring me brownies last week.”
“Aw. Good ole Mrs. Anderson. She’s such a good neighbor, right? Not to toot my own horn, but this is better.”
“Anything you do is going to be better.” Riley came up behind her, put his arms around her waist and pulled her in.
She turned in his arms, grinned and shoved a cracker in his mouth. “Didn’t we do enough of that yesterday?”
He chewed quickly and swallowed, winking. “Never.”
Sophia cleared her throat. “I got some news this morning from Scott.”
“Yeah. He brought it up, so I told him the truth.”
“It’s okay. I should have told him. Told everyone. That’s not the issue.” Sophia wouldn’t look at him. This was hard to say.
Riley pushed her chin up to meet his eyes. “What is it?”
“My father and Eileen are on their way home because of Diana.”
“How is she, by the way?”
“She’s good, but she needs a little bed rest, so Eileen is coming home to help. But my Dad doesn’t know about us. I’m going to have to tell him.”
“Do you want me there?”
Classic Riley, always there for her. Always had her back. “No, it’s okay. At least not yet.”
“You sure?”
This was the hard part. It might be easier to say this out loud if she wasn’t pressed up against him like this, where her brain tended to completely disengage. “Yes, I just want to know what to tell him.”
“We’re still married.”
So simple for Riley, and wasn’t that always the way? Sophia pulled away from him, and he took that moment to shut his office door.
“What is it, baby?”
“Of course we’re still married.” She opened her basket. Paper plates, rye bread, salami. Where was the mustard? Hadn’t she packed the mustard? My God, the mustard! Where was the mustard?
Get a grip, girl. “The question is: are we going to stay that way?”
Just like that, Riley’s soft brown eyes became hooded and shut down. He stuffed his hands in his pants pockets. “That’s up to you. You know what I want.”
“Riley.” She took a deep breath. I can do this. “I know you love me but it takes more than that sometimes.”
“My hot Italian wife thinks you need more than love?” He backed up, the corner of his lip curling in a sideways grin.
“I know. I guess I grew up. We have to want the same things. And I still want children.” She concentrated on chewing her lower lip, afraid to look directly at him.
Even as recently as her date with Marco, she’d made sure to remember to gaze carefully in a man’s eyes when she asked whether he liked children, worried she’d miss a sign. But with Riley she almost couldn’t look. She was far too invested in his answer. This, she told herself, was why people did the online dating match-up thing. All those lengthy questionnaires to get it right. To make certain you both want the same things before you fall carelessly, hopelessly…
When are you going to admit it’s a little too late for all that?
She finally got up her nerve to look at him and saw that his eyes were crinkled slightly at the edges, amused. “Should we get started right now, then?”
She shoved him, or rather tried to. “This isn’t funny. Don’t make jokes.”
“Who’s joking?”
“Stop it. I want to know what you want, not just what you think I want to hear. Tell me.”
He backed her up against his desk, grabbed hold of her wrists and pinned her there. “I want you. I love you. Let’s put it this way. I want kids only if they’re your kids. Sophia and Riley’s kids. Not just for the sake of having children, but for the sake of having our children. A little Sophia running around, singing and dancing, coloring little red paper hearts and cutting them out. Telling everyone how much she loves them. Lighting a candle whe
n someone scrapes their knee. Am I making sense here?”
Yes, please, he was making so much sense she wanted to cry. “What about a little Riley? Playing cops and robbers and ordering everyone around?”
“Him too, if you can stand it.”
“Two of you? I don’t know about that.” She grinned and laced her fingers behind his neck. Swallowed the golf sized lump in her throat. “I still love you.”
He kissed her then, a light chaste kiss on the lips and then studied her, as if he already realized what was coming next.
“But maybe I love you too much, you know? And it scares me.”
“I know.” He bent down and pressed his forehead against hers.
“Why am I like this?” She moaned.
“It’s not your fault. You lost your mother, you lost a friend and someone who you believed was a good friend, and then you thought you lost me.”
“Other people go through a hell of a lot worse. You went through a lot worse.”
“It was David. That hit you hard. Until then you’d never had to face losing me.”
To her horror, tears pooled in her eyes as she remembered poor sweet David. “It’s easier when I don’t care so much.”
“But you and I never really had that choice.” His thumbs brushed away her tears and he pulled her even closer.
True. She’d had little choice from the moment he’d picked her up for a ride on the back of his motorcycle. Then she’d learned about his life and how much he’d overcome, how hard he’d tried to make a better life for himself and his sister. How brave he’d always been. She’d fallen in love a little bit that day, and a little bit more the next until before she realized it, she’d fallen off a cliff.
She held him as tightly as she could, breathing in his scent, her face buried in his warm neck.
There was a soft rap on the door.
“Come in,” Riley said, still holding Sophia.
The door creaked open and Claire popped her head in tentatively. “Would you mind hitting the stupid vending machine for me? Damn thing took my dollar again. You seem to have the Midas touch.”
“Don’t be silly,” Sophia said, pulling out of Riley’s arms to go back to the business of lunch. “I brought enough for all three of us.”
17
Later that evening, Giancarlo’s was unusually slammed for a Tuesday night. Tuesday was ease-back-into-business day after dead Monday but not usually hopping like tonight. Then again, there’d been a dress rehearsal for the play down at the community hall, an all-volunteer version of Once Upon a Mattress and the thespians had decided to have dinner at the restaurant. Angie was thrilled and had prepared a special version of her Pansotti alla Genovese.
“They perform, I perform! Watch me work, son,” Angie had told Raul. “Watch and learn.”
“She’s in fine form tonight,” Lizzie said to Sophia as they both left the kitchen. “Might be a good night to tell her.”
“You’re right. I’ll tell her tonight after we close.”
She’d definitely decided to close down on Mondays. Not only did it make financial sense, but she also wanted Riley to see that she would take this step and make more time for their relationship. He’d probably take her lead then, and work a little less too. Eventually children would follow and she’d have to cut back her hours even more. She’d manage somehow. Nice problem to have. The important thing was that she loved him, she’d never stopped loving him and scary as that was, she would deal with it. Anyway, he was as safe now as he’d ever be, working behind a city desk, pushing paper. Police chief to a small town. Sure, there were problems here but they were minor. Even if he took risks, she understood now that Riley took nothing but calculated ones. He was street smart and he could take care of himself. He’d stayed alive in a war zone, and so he could stay alive in Starlight Hill, home of the grape.
So she wasn’t going to worry anymore.
A few more customers walked through the door and Sophia went up to greet them. Sally and Mike, parents of one of her old high school chums. Sophia led them to one of her best tables and rushed back to greet her next guest. A young teenage girl, not her usual customer.
“Just one?”
She lifted a shoulder, glanced around the place like it was her first time in here. “Yeah. Is that cool?”
“Of course.” Sophia certainly didn’t recognize her as she led her to a table for two near the front of the restaurant. “I’m happy to have you. You like Italian food?”
“Love it,” the girl said and slid into the chair. She was thin and dressed in tight blue jeans and a sweater with sleeves so long they covered most of her fingers, except for the tips of her fingernails which were painted black. “What’s good here?”
“Everything. Do you like ravioli? Because it’s the chef’s special tonight. It’s in a wine and garlic sauce.”
The girl made a face. “Can I have dessert?”
“You can have anything you want.” She wasn’t going to launch into a missive on nutrition with a girl she’d never even met. Hopefully her parents knew she was here by herself having dessert for dinner. Not that it was any of her business.
“I’m not going to ask for wine or anything. Don’t worry.”
“Uh-huh.” Sophia nodded. “Yeah, you’re not old enough for that unless you’re Italian and your parents are here. Are they here?”
“No. But I’m allowed to be here. Don’t worry.”
“I’ll send your waitress over.”
Sophia’s phone buzzed in her pantsuit pocket. Another restaurant re-tweet. Soon she’d tweet the news about Monday nights on Twitter too, and make sure that her followers realized it didn’t mean the restaurant was in trouble. She’d have to put a good spin on it somehow. Come up with a good hash tag. Hash tag ‘family time’? Maybe Diana would have some ideas. She was doing better today, convinced she’d have a boy because he was already so much trouble. She’d have to take it easy for the rest of her first trimester, which was already driving her insane. So was her mother, apparently.
“Some people don’t know how lucky they are, do they, Mama?” Sophia kissed her fingers and then raised them to Mama’s picture.
“Who’s that?” a voice said from behind Sophia.
Sophia startled and whipped around. It was the teenage girl. My goodness she was stealthy. “Um, hello there.”
“Yeah, I had to go the bathroom,” she said by way of explanation, Sophia guessed. “So who’s that lady? She looks like you.”
“That’s Mama. She used to run this place with my father, Giancarlo. I like to think she’s watching down on all of us all from heaven.”
“Why didn’t you— never mind. That’s pretty cool, having a restaurant with a guardian angel.”
“I think so.” Sophia felt a cold stab of fear that didn’t make any sense at all. This girl was harmless, right? “I’m Sophia, by the way. I own this restaurant.”
“Yeah, I know,” the girl blushed. “I’m a Twitter follower. My name’s Lyric.”
“What a beautiful name.”
“Excuse me, hot plate,” Lizzie said, carrying her tray out of the kitchen.
“Sorry,” the girl said and scurried back to her table.
After Lizzie had delivered her orders she came up to Sophia. “Who’s that?”
“A new customer, I guess,” Sophia said. “She gives me a weird feeling.”
“Well, c’mon,” Lizzie said. “A kid dining alone in a place like this? She sticks out, you think?”
“We have so many Twitter followers, you never know. She might have wanted to check us out for herself.”
“Sure, because that’s what every kid does on a Tuesday night.” Lizzie said. “I’ll go get her order.”
Sophia had too many other things on her mind at the moment to worry why a young girl was out alone on a week night at a family restaurant without her family. Maybe she had great taste in Italian food. She’d already said she was a Twitter follower. Mystery solved.
After lunch w
ith Riley earlier, Sophia had received a call from Daddy-o as they boarded their plane from Atlanta to San Francisco. He was excited to get home and asked her over for dinner. She’d agreed, saying she couldn’t wait to see him. So she’d go tomorrow night and explain everything. Sure, he’d be shocked and maybe a little disappointed that she’d lied to him all this time but eventually he’d come around. He’d grow to love Riley in time, she was sure of it. And in order to help him along, she was going to have to admit that everything hadn’t been Riley’s fault, as she’d originally implied after their break-up. Not that her father hadn’t wanted to believe it was all Riley fault, with or without her help.
An hour later, there’d been a slight turn over in guests as many had already finished their meals and moved on but Lyric still sat in her seat. She seemed to be fascinated with her phone much of the time. The rest of the time she’d picked at the two desserts she’d ordered: Tiramisu and Angie’s strawberry cheesecake tort.
Maybe the kid needed someone to talk to. Something about her screamed vulnerability and need. Sophia was about to walk over to say a few encouraging words when she became incredibly distracted by the man who next walked through her restaurant doors. Riley. He was immediately greeted by many of the patrons seated nearby.
“Hi,” he said when Sophia joined him as he chatted with the Millers, party of five, practically Tuesday regulars.
“Hello, Chief.”
And then in an uncharacteristic public display of affection, Riley put his arm around Sophia, pulled her in and kissed her. Not a chaste kiss, either. In front of the entire restaurant. Sophia knew better than to think Riley ever did anything without thinking ahead. He’d made his move to let everyone in the restaurant know that she was his. They were together. Again. And as they kissed, she heard no gasps of surprise from the crowd. Instead, when he finally let her up for air there was a round of applause.
“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen,” Lizzie said, her arms waving toward Sophia and Riley. “Appearing here now, two shows per day.”
Everyone laughed (especially the thespians) and went back to their food, thank goodness. Sophia felt her cheeks grow hot and tugged Riley to the side. “Are you hungry? Staying for dinner?”
THE STARLIGHT HILL COMPLETE COLLECTION: 1-8 Page 107
