Ready for You (10 page)

“Aren’t you on clean up?” Sabrina asked him.

He nodded and they wended into the house.

An hour later, most of the guests had gone. Rocco, his kids, parents, Brad and Ava, and Ray and his family sat around the living room. Rocco hadn’t spoken except to answer a question. His leg bounced, almost of its own accord, and he couldn’t stop imagining Chiara and what horror she might be experiencing. A few times, he rose and peeked out the front window, wondering if he could bolt to his car and get over to the hospital. But he knew he couldn’t. His heart had already frozen once, just seeing her husband and boys. He couldn’t do it again, and it would be wrong to intrude.
So much for playing dirty.
The phone rang. His dad picked up.

“It’s Faith,” he said in an aside after saying hello.
“Oh good.
Okay. Brad,” he said as he handed the phone to Brad. Sabrina held Ava, feeding her a tiny bottle.

“He’s okay, they’re taking him home. Isabella’s going to drive Faith back here. Apparently they were horsing around in the pool, the three boys, and he went under. His dad jumped in and pulled him out and the woman whose house it was revived him.” They all sat in silence for a minute.

“I think I’ll go,” Rocco said. He didn’t need to be here when Isabella returned. “Happy Birthday, Mom.” He kissed her cheek and made his goodbyes to everyone else. His nephews glanced up from their video games while his son rose to walk him out.

“Okay, Shawn, let’s have it,” he said as he opened the truck door.

“Do you want to come to my meeting Thursday night?”

“There’s one near here on Wednesday. I’ll go.”

“Fine.
Are you…I mean, why?”

Rocco shook his head.

“Have the last four years been a lie? Have you been doing all that stuff and hiding it?”

“No, I told you, I haven’t been drinking and I haven’t been screwing around with married women. Single ones, yes, but I’ve tried to be…upfront with them. Know what I mean?”

“Are you that hard up you needed to fool with Chiara? I don’t get it.”

“A man doesn’t need to be hard up to want her, huh? And don’t go thinking anything bad about her. She’s not like that. She’s…” he said. Shawn studied him with a curious gaze. He realized he sounded…like a man in love. Dammit.

“I don’t. We were talking about you. I’ll let you go before Isabella gets back and gives you a ration of shit.”

“Thanks.”

Shawn gave him a quick hug. “I’m okay, Dad. And you’re not responsible for how I’ve behaved, just for your own actions.”

Rocco nodded, knowing if he spoke he might break down. His son was a man, a good man. He waved and jumped in his truck. A tiny glow of pride lit his way home.

Any light feeling he had disappeared as he entered his empty, dark house and got ready for bed. He watched “Sports Center” then lay in his bed. If he could just have a few drinks, maybe his body would dull enough to not feel the acute need for Chiara. Maybe he could forget long enough to fall asleep. But he wasn’t desperate enough to drag himself from bed and make a run to the store--not yet.

Chapter Twelve

“Can’t sleep?” Isabella said from her prone position on the couch in the living room. She’d offered to stay the night to ease Chiara’s mind.

“It’s a tight squeeze in the bed tonight.” The boys had both climbed in with her and Phil. Those three were sleeping soundly while Chiara had scrunched on the edge, her eyes focused on the inch of window letting in the lights from Rocco’s block.

Isabella scooted up and patted the spot in front of her feet. Chiara plopped down and pulled her knees to her chin. “So, are you going to tell me?”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“Cut the crap. You haven’t pulled my hair like that since I came onto that guy you dated when you moved back home for a few months after college.”

“And Mom and Dad called me the dirty one. You were up to way more at sixteen than I was.”

“I’m the youngest.” Isabella wore a smug smile.

Chiara rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I may be attracted to him, but that’s all. It hasn’t gone far.”

“How far?
Are we talking Jimmy Carter or Bill Clinton?”

“Somewhere in between, I guess.”

“Moved past lusting in the heart but no--”

“Right.
It doesn’t matter. Phil and I have agreed to work on things.” Chiara rubbed her throat. Being separated from Phil hadn’t brought the clarity she’d hoped for—then again, they weren’t really apart. “We were going to start counseling again, but our old therapist doesn’t have any openings and we’re going on vacation week after next. I made an appointment for after we get back. I guess it’s just as well you know. Now you won’t ask me to any more parties at the Buffones’.”

“I wish you would’ve told me. Still doesn’t explain why he flirted with me today.”

“I know. I’m not sure why either.”

“I thought he seemed nice, like the rest of his family, but maybe he’s just a dog. You do seem to go for that type.” Isabella grinned.

“Shut up,” Chiara said. She shoved her into the cushions. Isabella laughed. “Thanks for being here.”

“And miss the gossip? I bet he’s a good kisser.”

Chiara
smiled,
her chin on her folded arms.

“You sure you want to stay with…” Isabella motioned to the bedroom.

Chiara leaned her cheek over to face her sister. “I need to try.
For the boys.
And for me.
I need to know I did everything I could.”

Isabella nodded and leaned over to give her a hug.
“How about if I hang around tomorrow?
Mom and Dad want to come over.”

“Thanks. ‘
Night,” Chiara said as she rose and padded back into the bedroom. Max had stretched out in her spot, so there was no room. She went into the boys’ room and eased into Max’s bed. She grabbed his favorite bear and turned toward the window. The curtain draped open a little, revealing a view of the houses on the other side of the creek, the houses across from Rocco’s. She stared for a few minutes before she forced herself to flip over and shut her eyes. Still, a fleck of light
remained,
a small twinkle like that in his eyes when he gazed at her before he kissed her.

Chiara woke several times that night. She looked out the window or went and checked on the boys, who slept peacefully all night. She finally fell into a deep sleep, only to be woken before seven when Max pulled on her arm, wanting her to get up and make breakfast. For all Phil did with the boys, he didn’t cook.

He and Danny were still in bed when she shuffled into the bathroom. A pillow covered most of Isabella’s head where she stretched on the couch. Chiara brewed coffee and made pancakes and turkey bacon. Eggs would follow, since Danny and Phil preferred them. Sometimes she felt like a short order cook.

“Are you coming out of the kitchen?” Isabella asked a few hours later. Their mother’s voice chattered on in the living room.

“Do I have to?” Chiara said.

“You know she’ll corner you eventually.”

Chiara rolled her eyes. “I guess I should be grateful everyone else decided not to come over too.”

“I told Santo it would be too much for Max.”

“I knew there was a reason I keep you around.”

Isabella tugged her hair.

“Girls, do you need some help?” Their mom said as she walked in.

“No thanks, everything’s done,” Chiara said.

“Your father and Phil are taking the boys for a walk. Isabella said Max should be fine if he takes it slow. Are you seeing that Rocco soon, Isabella?” Their mom tucked her thick, wavy brown hair behind her ears and circled the counters, running her fingers along the surface.

“No.”

“Oh, why not?”
She stopped and faced Isabella, arms crossed, a tiny frown marring her pixie-like features.

“He’s not my type.”

Chiara sauntered into the living room. She bit a hangnail on her thumb. Her mom and Isabella followed.

“Chiara, talk some sense into her, won’t you?”

“What sense would that be?”

“You two.”
Her mom dropped to the sofa, sighing. “Phil’s a good father, though I admit it took me awhile to get used to him. But here Isabella has a nice Italian boy interested, from a good family, a decent job, and what does she say?”

Chiara had to smile.
Rocco, a boy?
Ha.
Though he did act childish sometimes.
But not when he’d held her, comforted her. Her body actually hurt when she had to leave him, when he wasn’t there to hold her anymore. She’d had to stand on her own.

“Chiara?” her mom said. “Not listening again. I suppose you’re plotting a book?”

“Sorry.”

“Now then, your father and I want the boys to spend the night this Friday. We won’t get to see Danny on his birthday, so we want to do something special. And you and Phil can have a date night.”

Chiara rubbed her cheek and avoided Isabella’s eyes. “I don’t know, Mom…Max just…”

“Max is fine, isn’t he Isabella?” Five feet and two inches of motherly intimidation stared them both down.

“Seems to be, though I wouldn’t send him to camp tomorrow.
I’ll come by before dinner and check him out again.”

“See,” her mom said. “And we know you’re leaving Saturday afternoon. It’ll give you time to pack.”

“I guess.”

Her mom shook her head. “That’s all, hum?”

“Thank you, Phil and I appreciate it.”

Her mom smiled her tiny satisfied smile and smoothed her hands on the cushion. “Now if your sister would just…”

“Mom, really,” Isabella said. “I’ve told you, I don’t want to get married and have children.”

“You say that now--”

“I’ve been saying that since I was thirteen. I’m buying a house.”

Leave it to Isabella to pounce a surprise right at the opportune moment.

“Where?
Why am I just hearing about this?” their mom said, leaning forward.

“Here in Fairvale. I’m waiting to hear about a place over on Stanley. I could walk to the office.”

“Both my girls here in town.
If only Santo would move back.”

Chiara and Isabella exchanged a glance. Luckily, they knew that would never happen. It was even less likely than Tomaso and his wife moving from San Francisco.

“He’s only fifteen minutes away,” Chiara said.
The standard response to her mom’s frequent lament.

“Well, we’ll all see each other when you get back. We’re having a family dinner at home Sunday the eighteenth. I expect you both there.”

“That’s the day we’re coming home. We’ll be tired--”

“You’ll have plenty of time to rest. No excuses. Your nieces barely know you anymore and Santo and Tomaso haven’t seen the boys since my birthday.” She leaned into the cushion and tapped her hand.

“Yes, Mom,” Chiara and Isabella sighed out together.

“
There’s the boys
,” Chiara said. “Lunch is served.” She opened the front door and led everyone into the dining room.

The house was dark. Chiara lay on the sofa, exhausted. Her parents had overstayed their welcome, making Phil and Danny irritable for the rest of the evening and causing Isabella to leave early. Max, who’d been through the worst, remained
cheerful.
He’d whispered as he held her neck when she kissed him goodnight that he was glad to be spending the day with her, just the two of them, tomorrow. He was her sweetie and he’d been used to spending time with her alone, at least an hour a day since he started kindergarten. In a few months, that would be no more, as both would attend school on the same schedule. She rubbed her stomach. No more baby boy, no more babies. She turned onto her side and shut her eyes; her breath blew into the couch cushion.

“Claire,” a voice woke her.

“Hum?” The cushions muffled her question.

“It’s seven, I’m leaving.”

“Oh.” She sat up with a start and wiped her mouth with her fingertips. “See you later, have a good day.”

“You too.”

Once Phil shut the front door, she eased up, stiff from her night bunched on the sofa. The boys rustled in their beds. She got ready for the day.

Max spent some of the morning snuggled on the sofa watching “Melody Time.” Chiara held him for awhile, as long as he would tolerate it before he played with his blocks or danced along to the musical shorts. Mid morning, she was about to turn on her computer when a knock on the door stopped her. She peeped out the window. Rocco stood on the stoop, sideways, his eyes focused on some point across the street. She quickly held the curtain down.

“Who is it, Mommy?” Max asked. Next he would go to the front window to see.

“A friend of the family.”
She opened the door. She felt herself hunching to counteract the pit in her stomach so she straightened. No need to look slouchy. “Hi.”

“Is this a bad time?” he said. He held up a gift bag. “Just wanted to make sure everything is okay.”

Max sidled up behind her and peeked at Rocco. “Come in,” she said.

He brushed past her and set the bag on the couch. She rubbed her arms before shutting the door. Rocco squatted to Max’s level. “Hey,” Rocco said. “I’m Rocco, you must be Max.” He held out his hand, which Max shook. “You gave everybody a scare, but you look fine to me.” He winked at Max with a broad grin. Max laughed.

“I wasn’t scared,” Max said. Chiara rolled her eyes. Boys, they started young on the invincibility thing. “I was mad at Danny and Jack always ignoring me.”

“I know what you mean. My older brother did that too. I heard you like baseball?”

Max nodded.

“I brought you this. I used to practice with one.
And a book.
Moms like books,” he said in a confidential tone. He gave Max a whiffle ball and bat and
Casey at the Bat.
Max smiled and bounced a bit. Chiara smiled for a moment before her brow creased.

“Thanks,” Max said. “You play baseball?”

“I did, still do with my nephews. The youngest is about your age.”

“I wish I had an uncle who played baseball.”

“Doesn’t your uncle Santo? He did in high school.”

“He did?”
Max said, studying Rocco as if he didn’t quite believe him.

“We were on the same team. Then I played in the minor leagues before I started the job I have now.”

Rocco and Max sat on the couch. Chiara fidgeted. She didn’t know what to say or how to act. Here was a man she’d almost had sex with, sitting here sweet as can be with her son. She rubbed her forehead.