Eighteen (18) (18 page)

We stop kissing and take a moment to see each other. Like really see each other. “Are you hungry?” he asks.

“Starving,” I say. “But not just for food.”

“Let’s go eat.”

We rise and I help him fold the blanket back up. And this time when he takes hold of my hand, I let him.

We walk back to the car, put his backpack in the trunk, and he points to the shops at the end of the street. “I know a place.”

I bet he does. He seems to know everything.

He pulls out and we make our way onto Pacific Coast Highway going south, and a few miles later he pulls into a restaurant valet and two men approach our car and pull open our doors.

“Good evening, Mr. Alesci,” the one on his side says.

“Ma’am,” the one on my side says.

I barely manage a, “Thank you,” as I exit the car and wait at the curb, while Mateo talks into the other valet’s ear and hands him some cash. He pats him on the back and walks over to me, taking my hand.

“Ready?” he asks, weaving us through a crowd of people waiting to get inside.

“What’s going on here?”

“Just don’t look up.”

Of course I look up. And see the name of the restaurant above the door. “Alesci’s Laguna Beach?”

“Whatever you do, don’t show fear.”

“Mateo—”

But an older woman interrupts me. She places her hands on his cheeks and spills out something in Italian. He blushes. I laugh. And then he’s talking in Italian a mile a minute as the woman takes me in and gives me a very suspicious look.

“Mom—”

Jesus Christ. You have got to be kidding me. Mateo’s mother is tall and thin, wearing a designer suit and diamonds everywhere I look. Her hair is a rich mahogany brown, her makeup is perfect, her shoes probably cost more than, well, everything I own, plus a few thousand dollars more, and she smells like a very expensive bottle of perfume.

“—this is Shannon.”

“Shannon?” she says, like she’s never heard the name before in her life. I’m not Italian and no amount of wishing will change that.

“We’re just here to eat dinner. I called ahead and Vinnie set us a table upstairs.”

I might get a mother’s evil eye from that statement. “Um,” I say, way, way out of my comfort zone. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Alesci.”

She gives me another once-over but Mateo has me by the hand and he’s practically dragging me to the back of the restaurant. We climb the stairs, which are narrow, so there is nothing to do but keep hold of his hand as he leads me, and then find ourselves out on a private patio where there are about half a dozen empty tables and only one is set for dinner.

Mateo pulls my chair out and I sit, watching him as he takes the seat across from me.

“What the hell did you just do?” I ask.

“What?” he says innocently.

“Tell me that didn’t just happen.”

“You met my mother, so what?”

“I’m ten fucking years younger than you, Mateo,” I whisper-yell. I might be having a panic attack. “This is not cool.”

“Why not?” The waiter comes up the stairs and Mateo holds up two fingers. “Vino and lasagna bolognese.” The waiter nods and goes back down.

“Oh, my God, did you just order me wine? Your mother is going to kill me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he says, leaning over the table to kiss me on the cheek. “She loves me too much to kill you, Shannon.”

I just shake my head at him. “I cannot believe you brought me here.”

“Why?”

“Mateo, you’re twenty-eight. I’m eighteen.”

“Eighteen is the key number. She’ll be fine. Just relax. Besides, what kind of date would it be if I didn’t keep you on your toes?”

I’m just about to answer when an older man comes up and squeezes Mateo’s shoulder, babbling in Italian.

I just smile and nod. This is a nightmare.

“Be right back,” Mateo says, getting up. “I have to go say hi to my aunt.” His fingertips brush my shoulder as he walks past me and then he disappears down the stairs.

“Great,” I mutter, wringing my hands in my lap.

“Shannon.”

I turn around and yup, right on cue, there’s the mom coming to check me out. I have a moment of rage that Mateo fell for it, and then roll my eyes, because yeah, like that was what happened. He left me up here on purpose so she could come grill me.

“Um, hi!” I try to say it brightly. “Mrs. Alesci. You have a very nice restaurant.”

“May I?” she asks, waving her hand at Mateo’s chair.

“Well…” I laugh nervously. “I suppose that’s why Mateo left so suddenly, so of course.”

She smiles sweetly at me, folding her hands on the table. “Just one question.”

“Eighteen,” I blurt.

She laughs, gets back up and walks away. I watch her retreat down the stairs, but just as quickly she turns and starts walking back up.

Shit. I take a deep breath and stand, read to bolt downstairs if she starts smacking me. I once dated an Italian guy back in Ohio and I can say from experience, these mamas do not fuck around when it comes to their sons.

But she walks towards me smiling, holding her hands out and reaching for mine. She squeezes them both at the same time, then leans in to kiss me on both cheeks. “I’m Mateo’s mother, Gigi Alesci, and you may call me Gigi. I’m so happy to meet you, Shannon.”

Oh, my God, the weirdness runs in the family. “I know, I just met you down—”

“We needed a new start,” she says, interrupting me. “I was a little shocked downstairs, but you can’t hold it against me. You are very young.”

“I totally understand,” I say. “I had no idea he was bringing me here. Actually, I had no idea his family had a restaurant.” Shit, I just lied to his mother. “Well, I had some idea.”

“Relax,” she says. “I’m not here to pry. I’m just as surprised as you, because my dear, he has never brought a girl to Alesci’s Laguna Beach. This,” she stresses, “this is the
serious
restaurant.”

“Oh. I was hungry and we were in the neighborhood. He took me to the beach to look at the stars.”

“No, my dear,” she says, shaking her head. “I’m sure he’s in the neighborhood a lot. That’s not why he brought you here.” She tilts her head and her smile widens. “We have seven Alesci’s Restaurants in Southern California and only one where I work every night. He brought you to meet me.”

“I have nothing for that,” I lie again, and then blurt. “I just met him. He’s my teacher, and I’m sorry—he’s weird, but I like him.”

She laughs so hard she has to cover her mouth.

“What? Oh, my God, what did I do?”

“I like you, Shannon. Please,” she says, rising as I spot Mateo coming towards us. “Enjoy the food.”

They speak again in Italian, part with a kiss to each cheek, and then Mateo walks back over to me and sits down and places a bottle of wine on the table. “Drink?” he asks.

I nod dumbly. “I think I might need one.” He laughs. It’s that laugh I like. “Who are you? And what did you do with Mateo?”

“She was nice, right?”

“She just wanted to know how old I was.”

“I figured.”

“But yes, she was nice. She said you brought me here to meet her.”

“I did,” he says, pouring the wine. “And if you think it’s over, just prepare yourself.”

“What?”

But as soon as the word leaves my mouth, three younger women come up the stairs, laughing and giggling.

“Shannon, allow me to introduce my cousins, Gina, Beth, and Lori.”

I lose track of the family members after that. There is no hope for me at all. They come up to the terrace in packs, and clearly this is either a family-only dining area or the only people who eat at Alesci’s Laguna Beach are related, because everyone up there is introduced with a title. Brother-in-law, aunt, cousin, niece, nephew, granddad, and uncle.

We don’t get one second alone. And they grill me, but in the nicest way.

“What do you do?”

“She graduates high school this semester.”

I get a few looks from that, but they move on. “What will you study after high school? Will you move away? Do you want children?”

Mateo fields that one with something in Italian, and I have to take a deep breath to try to stop the building panic. The food arrives and we eat as they continue talking.

And hours later, I’m partially drunk, I’ve eaten so much I want to take my pants off at the table, and my eyes begin to droop.

“Well,” Mateo says, standing up and walking around to get my chair, “we’ve got to get home.” There’s a rush of people who kiss me on both cheeks and tell me to come back soon.

I leave there with a longing in my heart and a hole in my soul.

Is this what it’s like to have a family?

I don’t have much to compare it to, but I decide it is, and I decide I like it, and I decide I want it.

I want him.

When we get home, and I get out of the car, I wish so bad that he’d invite me in and keep me forever. The last thing I want to do is go home to Jason.

But he doesn’t. He takes my hand and walks me across the street. He pushes me against the brick wall just a few inches from my bedroom window and kisses me goodnight.

I go inside feeling sadder than I have a right to.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Mateo didn’t call on Sunday
, and if that was all that happened in the days following our ‘date’, I’d get over it. But he never showed for class on Monday. I took the bus all the way over to Gilbert only to find the doors locked. I waited, nothing. I took the bus home and texted him. Nothing.

The next day I had to show up for science class, so I took the bus out to Gilbert again, did my two hours, turned in several more open-book tests, and went to room twenty-one.

Empty and dark.

I texted again. Nothing.

So I got desperate and tried to call, but it went straight to voicemail.

What the fuck?

“Shannon?” A push on my shoulder takes my attention away from my phone and I look to see Sunday peering down at me. “Didn’t you hear me? I called your name three times.”

“Oh,” I say, pointing to my ear. “I have an ear infection. It’s all clogged up.” I do too. It started on Sunday afternoon and it’s been building ever since. “I get them a lot and the drops I had left over from the last one aren’t working yet.”

“Why do you look so unhappy?”

“I’m just in pain, that’s all. I took some pills, but they’re not working either.”

“You looked this way yesterday too. There’s something you’re not telling me. What’s going on?”

There’s no one here but us. People ditched to go smoke out at the arcade across the street at lunch. I have some vague recollection of being asked to partake, but waving them off as I concentrated on Mateo’s absence.

Obviously, I can’t tell Sunday anything about Mateo. “I think I’m going home. It’ll feel better tomorrow.”

“I’ll take you,” he says.

I know I should say no, but the ear really does hurt. And the thought of walking the few blocks home makes me tired just standing here. “OK.”

He takes my backpack and we walk towards the parking lot. “The ex-boyfriend giving you trouble?”

I sigh. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“OK,” he says again, opening the passenger door for me and placing my pack at my feet. He closes my door and walks around to get in his side, starts up the car and pulls out.

“It’s just, we had a really good weekend. Saturday night was fun. And then Sunday, nothing. No call, no text. And I haven’t been able to get a hold of him since. He’s just disappeared.”

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about it?”

“Sorry,” I say, placing a hand over my ear to try to dull the pain.

We drive in silence after that, and thankfully, a few minutes later, he pulls up in front of my apartments. “You gonna be OK?”

I nod as I gather my backpack and get out of the car. “Thank you. See you tomorrow.”

He waits there at the curb until I get my key in the door, and then I wave for him to leave. Say what you will about Danny Alexander, but he’s considerate.