Ready for You (23 page)

“What are you doing here?” he said.

“Nice to see you too,” she said. “Didn’t you get your mom’s messages?”

“I stopped checking them,” he said.

“Then it’s your own fault.”

“You’re one to talk,” he said. They faced each other, glaring, eyes sparking. The room whirred with their pent-up electricity.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she said.

“Answer me first.”
Demanding.
She wanted to smack him.

“Your mom and dad hired me.”

“That’s just great,” he said. His sarcasm made her clench her hands.

“What, you think I’m not qualified? What’s your problem?”

“Maybe if you bothered to check your messages, you’d know.”

“How do you know I didn’t?”
Damn,
and she’d deleted them all.

“No wonder you couldn’t find a job if this is how you talk to your employers,” he almost shouted.

“Then I quit!”

“Rocco Buffone,” his mom said as she and her husband walked out of their office, “you apologize to Chiara now. You know she doesn’t work for you and I won’t have you speak to her like that.”

Chiara crossed her arms and waited, but Rocco turned from her and kissed his mom’s cheek. “Dad, you had some papers for me to sign?”

“I do, but you heard your mother.”

“So sorry, Mrs. Kirkwood,” he said with no sincerity.

She’d pushed too far and now he’d had enough. She’d expected as much, but it didn’t stop the hurt, the tears from stinging the back of her eyes. Wanting to speak, she tried, but as she opened her mouth, she knew if she said anything, she’d cry. She shut her mouth and pressed her lips together. He shook his head and walked away with his dad.

“Don’t mind him,” Mrs. Buffone said. “He’s just missing Shawn and Sabrina. You’ll still come to Sunday dinner, won’t you?”

Chiara forced a smile and nodded. What the hell had she been thinking accepting that invitation? Something about Mrs. Buffone’s smile and the way she asked made Chiara forget all her reasons for staying away from that family. She would regret it, no doubt, but she’d feel worse hurting Mrs. Buffone’s feelings.

“See you tomorrow,” Mrs. Buffone said as Chiara gathered her things. She nodded again and walked to her car.

Rocco didn’t come into the office again that week, so she didn’t see him until she and Isabella entered the Buffones’ house on Sunday evening. He stood, his booty calling her, in the corner of the living room talking to his brother Ray. Everyone welcomed them as if they were part of the family, which in Isabella’s case, seemed to be true, for as much time as she spent with them.

Chiara smoothed her dress, a little concerned the figure hugging bright turquoise number would show too much the fact that she hadn’t been working out lately. At least her appetite was down, so she hadn’t gained weight. The dress, with its slightly ruffled hem, reminded her of the swimsuit she wore the day she and Rocco first made love. She really needed to stop thinking of it that way. It was just sex.
Really hot, fantastic sex.
She needed to stop thinking about it all together.

“Isabella, Chiara,” Mr. Buffone’s brother, Rob, said before taking both their hands. “You two look lovely.” His loud voice reverberated and Rocco turned, which she noticed because she couldn’t seem to draw her eyes away from his backside. A slow burn crept from her manicured toes up every inch of her from Rocco’s intent study. No smile lit his face, but his eyes were bright and wide. “And who is this vision?” Uncle Rob said in a low voice. They turned to the striking older woman who floated in.

“Grandma!”
Chiara and Isabella said at once. They ran and hugged her. She still smelled like lemons and mint and her laugh rang out like a sonorous bell.

“My girls, let me see you,” she said. She held them out at arms’ length and made them turn around. When she pulled them in for another hug, she whispered to Chiara “Divorce agrees with you.”

Chiara flushed. It wasn’t the divorce, but a certain man who she felt walking close by, his scent putting her on alert.

“Uncle Max,” Chiara said when she spotted him as her grandma Leonora made the rounds, escorted by Uncle Rob. Uncle Max hugged her. “Thanks,” she whispered.

“Wow,” Isabella said as she hurried over. “How long has it been?”

“Since Max’s christening,” Chiara said. Grandma had been making a grand tour of Europe for the last six years.

“Lucky the woman who sublet her flat moved out a couple months ago, so she has her place back,” Uncle Max said. He lived in the flat above Grandma’s in San Francisco.

“Is she staying?” Chiara asked.

“Don’t know. She just arrived last night.”

They talked, one of the many conversations humming in the house. At dinner, Grandma regaled them with tales of her travels. She had a rapt audience, especially Uncle Rob, who Chiara surmised wasn’t usually so quiet. Grandma had that effect on people, men especially. It must have been hard on Chiara’s mom.

After dessert, Rocco and his brother went in the kitchen, on clean up duty, Chiara guessed. She watched him walk out and blushed when her grandma caught her doing it. Grandma slid her arm under Chiara’s and ambled out to the back porch. The sky darkened, stars began to blink out, like those on the ceiling of Rocco’s bedroom. They sat on a glider in the far corner, near the garage. It squeaked, and crickets responded.

“How are you, my girl?” Grandma said, holding Chiara’s hand. Aside from some hugs tonight, no one had touched her in days. At least before, she had the boys to hug, kiss, and snuggle with every day. Not that she was much for snuggling with adults, but she discovered touch in some form really mattered.

“Okay,” Chiara said.

“No you’re not. You miss your boys, your family hasn’t supported you, Phil’s acting like a
jerk,
and you miss Jen. And you need a new man.”

Chiara blew out a shaky breath and leaned into Grandma’s shoulder. “You find me one.”

Grandma laughed. “Those Buffone men would do a treat.”

They laughed.
“Grandma!”

“I tell you, honey, that Buddhist retreat was lovely, but no sex for three weeks? I’ll soon recover. Rob may be just the elixir.”

“But he’s such a ladies’ man.”

“So? I’m not looking to settle down. I had that with your grandpa, God love him. Besides, those
kind
of men are often the best lovers, if they’re in it for the love of women. Or they can be the worst, if they’re all talk, trying to impress other men. I’ll soon find out.” Grandma smiled.

“You’re naughty.” Chiara giggled.

“Nothing wrong with great sex between consenting adults.
Though I admit love can make great sex outstanding.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Wouldn’t you? I see the way you and that Rocco gaze at each other.”

“We’re not in love,” Chiara whispered.

“Any man who looks at you with melting eyes that follow you around the room--”

“He’s like his Uncle Rob. I can’t love someone like that.”

“You mean you won’t. Don’t lose something wonderful because you’re scared and hurt. Now then, when can I go set your father to rights?”

“Never.”

“Ha! I enjoy it, the little…oh, I suppose if I’d been a better mother…then again, you never can tell. We all have our unique needs and personality and usually family can’t provide all we need in this life. You were lucky to have Jen. So was Santo.
Made him less insufferable for awhile.”

“You knew?” Chiara faced her grandma.

“Jenny wrote me often. I’m sorry I wasn’t there, especially for her funeral when you needed me. I didn’t get word until it was too late. My point is, even people like Santo and your father have forgotten propriety for love. They just forget it later. Don’t let them hold you back.”

“My dad?”

“Yes, you thought it was your mother? No, no. Certainly she liked the attention and she did love him, but he pursued her. He was friends with my nephew Frank, you remember, your great-aunt Celeste’s oldest. Frank and your uncle Carlo gave him what for when they found out, but your father wouldn’t stop seeing my Olivia. She had that sort of ethereal quality Santo, and you, by the way, lack.
And your brother Santo too.
All too practical for your own good sometimes.”

“They don’t think so, not about me.”

“You’re like them. That’s why it scares them more when you deviate from their norm.”

“I think I liked the sex conversation better.” Chiara crossed her arms.

Grandma chucked her under the chin. “How about we go back inside? I want to keep Rob’s interest piqued.”

Chiara laughed. “What will Uncle Max say?”

“He knows when to mind his business,” Grandma said as they rose and strolled inside.

The party was breaking up, a few others already leaving, waving goodbyes and blowing kisses.

“Mom,” Uncle Max said, “I’ve got work in the morning.”

“Oh, and I wanted to spend a little more time. I haven’t had a chance to talk with Isabella.”

“I’d be glad to drive you wherever you wish,” Uncle Rob said, appearing at Grandma’s side.

She gave Chiara a sly smile. Kisses and hugs were exchanged with Uncle Max, who Chiara walked out to his car.

“Thanks for getting Grandma here,” she said.

“I’d like to take credit, but it wasn’t me.”

“Oh, I guess she just knew.”

“No. I’m still not sure about him, but it was Rocco. He called and convinced me you needed someone here who would be on your side.
Someone who could talk some sense into your family.
He feels we’re not treating you right and I have to agree with him. Don’t tell him I told you. I got the feeling he didn’t want you to know.” Uncle Max kissed her cheek. “You take care, niece of my heart.”

“Thanks,” Chiara said. She rubbed her forehead and watched Uncle Max amble to his car and drive away. Taking a deep breath, she waited in the cooling night air.

Laughter and voices drifted from inside the house. She jogged back inside and spotted Ray coming from the kitchen.

“Is Rocco around?” she said.

“No, he left about ten minutes ago.”

“Okay.” Chiara stood, not sure what to do.

Ray pulled her aside. “Look, I know it’s none of my business, but he’s got me worried lately. I don’t know exactly what’s going on, but he’s had enough hurt from your brothers. I don’t want them to have any more reasons to…we like you and your sister, but maybe…I don’t see your family ever accepting him. He’s my brother, you know?”

Chiara knew exactly what he meant and she had to agree. She nodded and patted his arm. “Don’t worry,” she said. “Everything will be fine. I’ll make sure of it.”

Tension rolled off Ray and he straightened. “Thanks,” he said before he walked into the living room.

Chiara hugged herself and leaned against the wall. Every muscle grew heavy, her head ached. Exhaustion overtook her. She plodded into the living room to find Isabella. She needed to go home and sleep.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Rocco checked the personnel files in his father’s office. Everyone was probably out to lunch, as he would be. He’d left his truck down the street at Lucca Deli and walked over, enjoying the snap of chill in the air contrasting the bright fall day. The front door opened and his mom’s voice entered with her footsteps.

“
It’s
okay, Chiara,” she said.

“No, I’m so sorry.” Chiara’s voice was strained, almost frantic. He barely breathed from behind the half-shut door of the inner office. “I don’t know how people do this, something must be wrong with me.”

Rocco’s hand touched the door knob telling him to go to her, let her know she was all right. Gentle patting sounds drifted in, probably his mom trying to comfort Chiara.

“The boys hate it at Isabella’s and they were late to school twice. I neglected my work here, I’m so sorry about those files, I had to tell Phil I couldn’t do it, and he looked so smug when I dropped them off just now…” she cried. Her sobs made his breath slow, his limbs numb. “He told me I wouldn’t be able to handle working and the boys and he was right. And you’re so nice, too nice to tell me it’s not working out.” She heaved a few breaths, probably trying to stop her tears. “I’ll quit. You can find someone better. So many people are out of work.”

“Nonsense.
You had a bad week, that’s all. We’ll work together to recover those files. I hope you’ll do something for yourself this weekend.”

“I’m staying with Grandma.”

“Good. She’s quite a woman.” He heard the smile in his mom’s voice. “Now, did you even eat lunch?”

“No, I wanted to get right back here and try to--”

“No wonder. You need to eat. It’s not the first time this week you’ve skipped lunch. Why not walk down to Lucca’s and get something?”

“I can’t, I--”

“Yes, you can,” his mom said. “I don’t want you fainting.”

Chiara’s fluttery laugh made him smile. Why was he staying away from her? He waited for the door to open and close again, sure she was gone. He stepped out. His mom jumped.

“Rocco Buffone! Why were you lurking back there?”

“Sorry,” he said, quickly kissing her cheek.
“Had to check something.
See you later.”

He went onto the sidewalk and spotted Chiara a little way down. She walked slowly and as he made his way around, she wiped her eyes and checked her reflection in a small mirror. He jogged around the back of some neighboring businesses and ambled out, meeting Chiara as she passed.

“Hi,” he said. It seemed to take her a moment to register his presence.

“Hi. What are you doing here?” she said.

“Going to lunch.
You?”

“Same,” she said. She quickened her pace.

“Why don’t we eat together? Lucca’s okay?”

She nodded and glanced at him. He smiled, though really his chest clenched in misery. The pain in her eyes, her weary expression, her wrinkled tee and jeans which hung slightly wrong because she’d lost weight, her usually shiny hair pulled into a dull low ponytail told him more than any words could have. He distracted himself by watching the cars passing by. They crossed the street and he held the door for her at the deli. It was almost one, so the line wasn’t as long as it had been when he’d walked by earlier.

After placing their order, they picked out drinks and he got a bag of Dirty potato chips, hoping the name might make her smile. They waited in silence until their sandwiches were ready. He insisted on paying and led her to one of the small tables. She didn’t seem to notice the chip bag, or if she did, she pretended not to. The low hum of conversation and the radio on in the back joined the crinkling of sandwich paper and chopping of vegetables and meat. Chiara ate her sandwich almost greedily. He raised an eyebrow, which she caught as she glanced up. Her cheeks bloomed red.

“I forgot to eat breakfast,” she said as if in apology.

“You’ve lost weight,” he said. He tried to keep his tone neutral, but it sounded scolding.

“You make it sound like a bad thing.”She tore at a paper napkin.

“I liked you the way you were.” Now he sounded grumbly.

“This is how I am. I don’t care if you like me,” she said as she quickly wrapped up her sandwich. “Thanks for lunch, I need to get back.” She rose and slung her purse onto her shoulder.

“Chiara…”

She shook her head and walked away. The bell on the door jangled when she pushed it open. He blew out a breath. He should stick to what he’d said and abstain from seeing her. Her uncle Max was right too, Chiara needed time to get through her divorce and figure out her life. Problem was
,
Rocco wasn’t much for abstinence. Even more disturbing, what if once Chiara figured things out, he wasn’t part of her equation?

Five weeks later, Rocco sat in his darkened living room, counting.
Five days since he’d seen Chiara, at church with her boys on Halloween. He kept his distance but was pleased to see Max wearing the Giants uniform costume and Danny the scientist outfit he’d sent to Isabella’s, anonymously, of course.

That’s how he felt lately, like the invisible man, watching, helping Chiara, but never letting her know. Let her think it was her uncle Max or her grandma, who both suspected it was all him, but hadn’t given him up.
Four weeks since he’d last gone out, looking to hook up.
He hadn’t, though, as he hadn’t since before he and Chiara made love. Unfortunately, Isabella spotted him at the bar and he wondered if Chiara’s increased iciness when they met at the office had anything to do with that. In three nights, Chiara’s birthday, complete with a family party, to which he’d been invited with the rest of his family. He wasn’t sure he should go. Two months since he and Chiara had last been together; it was the longest time he hadn’t had sex in years. One, Chiara was the one woman for him. Without her, he may as well have nothing.

He paced the floor of that same room on Sunday night. Chiara’s thirty-fifth birthday. He’d sent a huge bouquet of red roses to her at Isabella’s, no card. He liked to imagine Chiara’s face, her dimpled smile when she received his gifts, warmed by the idea of her pleasure. Though if he thought about the fact that she’d probably frown and throw everything in the trash if she knew it was from him, it chilled him to the bone. His phone rang. His uncle Rob’s usually booming voice whispered.

“Get
yourself
over here now,” he said.

Rocco sat down and stood again. “Why?”

“Why do you always question? Get here.”

“It’s already after dinner.”

“So you’ll be here for cake.”

“I can’t. It’ll cause problems.”

“If you don’t show up, it’ll cause me a problem. Leonora’s threatened to freeze me out if I don’t get you over here.”

“So?”

“If you knew…” Uncle Rob grunted in frustration. Rocco had to smile. He had a pretty good idea.

No need for them both to be without. “Okay, I’ll be there in ten.” Maybe Leonora had some magic. She must to keep Uncle Rob’s interest this long.

Uncle Rob met him outside the Vitales’, not a good sign. Rocco’s stomach clenched as he walked up the path, recalling that disastrous night in July. He’d tried running ahead and had been thrown out. He’d never been good at stealing bases.

They walked into the house together, into the same living room. This time, his family, minus Faith, Brad, and Ava, who’d had the flu, sat around with Chiara’s parents, her uncle Max, Grandma Leonora, Isabella, Santo, Bobbie, Tomaso, and a tall, thin brunette who Rocco assumed was Tomaso’s wife. They filled the two sofas, six chairs, some pulled from the dining room, while the kids, Danny, Max, Bobbie and Santo’s daughter, and Rocco’s three nephews played Monopoly at the dining room table. His family’s presence didn’t settle his stomach, especially when the room hushed as they all noticed him. Except Chiara, who wasn’t in the
room.
Rocco would have left right then, but Uncle Rob blocked his exit.

He greeted everyone, kissing his mom’s cheek.

Leonora rose and hugged him. “How good of you to join us,” she said, too enthusiastically.

He nodded. They turned at a strangled sound.
Chiara.
She was beautiful. Her hair shone, dark against her unusually pale face, a conservative but figure hugging little black dress highlighting almost all his favorite spots. But he wished he hadn’t come. Her expression flashed an emotion: stricken. What a thing to do to her, ever, much less on her birthday. He swallowed and looked at his shoes.

“Is Phil on his way?” Leonora asked.

“Yes,” Chiara said.

Oh, great.

“Uncle Roc!” his nephews shouted, breaking up the game. Danny scowled at him while Max joined Rocco’s nephews as they mobbed him. “Can you believe those Giants? You should have come over to watch the last game! Did you see it?”

They chattered on as he answered.
“Yeah, of course.”

“I saw it too!” Max said. Rocco knelt down to hear him better and was almost knocked down by his nephews as they reenacted their favorite plays. “But I had to watch it by myself. At least Dad let me stay up.”

“I watched it alone too,” Rocco said. One more thing he should have done with Chiara. “I wish we could have seen it together.” He meant it too. Max was a good kid and he loved baseball as much as Rocco did.

“Maybe next year we could go to a game,” Max whispered, glancing toward his brother. Rocco smiled. “And you were right about Uncle Santo. He likes baseball too. We watched the game at his house on Sunday.”

Rocco glanced at Santo, whose expression of hatred was rivaled only by Chiara’s father.

Ray whispered to his wife. “Kids, why don’t we get our things?” Rocco’s sister-in-law said. “Danny and Max’s dad is on his way and your dad and I have work in the morning.”

“But the cake,” Chiara’s mom said, rising. “I’ll get it now. Isabella, help me with the plates and things.” She and Isabella went out.

Ray stood next to him now. His parents shifted uncomfortably at the obvious tension in the room.

“Chiara, I hope you have a good wish in mind,” Leonora said in a twinkling voice.

Chiara glanced at him and he knew she thought of the wishing well in Balboa Park too. He’d already gotten his wish, but it turned out he wanted more. Chiara’s cheeks blushed a becoming pink. “Some things you shouldn’t wish for,” she said in a quiet oice.

“Shouldn’t, humph.
It’s your birthday,” Leonora said.

“I have to agree with Chiara,” Bobbie said.

Rocco crossed his arms. She just didn’t know when to shut up.

“That must be Phil,” Leonora said when the doorbell chimed. “Bobbie, be a dear and answer it.” Bobbie sat still. “Santo, perhaps you’d both go? You know how that doorbell upsets me.”

Rocco had no idea what she meant, but Santo obviously did. He almost jumped up, the flustered frown on his face reminded Rocco of their ball playing days. Grabbing Bobbie’s arm, they went to answer the door.

Rocco took a few deep breaths, the crowded room closing in on him. Phil walked in behind Santo and Bobbie. Danny ran to his dad, hugging him, as Chiara’s mom walked in the dining room with a candle-lit sheet cake. Everyone stood and began singing “Happy Birthday.” Chiara managed to blow out all the candles, with a little help from the kids.

Chiara stared at him, holding her plate in her trembling hand, while her mom served the cake to everyone else. The chatter, the others, even the lights, dimmed as he returned her look. His body lightened, lifted toward her, feeling her pull.
So much for resisting.
If he didn’t take her home tonight, he couldn’t be responsible for his actions. He’d have to plead temporary insanity.

Their lock on each other was broken when her boys tugged on her, ready to leave. Rocco backed up and went to the window facing the front yard. Chiara had probably stood at this window countless times. What did she think about? What had been her dreams?