Ready for You (24 page)

“We’re leaving too,” Ray said. Rocco edged out and hugged his sister-in-law and nephews. “Be careful,” Ray whispered.

Rocco nodded and glanced at Chiara’s uncle Max, who stood surveying the room. “I think I have back up, thanks,” he said in a hushed tone. Leonora and Uncle Rob’s laughter mingled.
Plenty of support this time.

Phil took the boys, Ray and his family followed, as did Tomaso and his wife. Santo, Bobbie, and their daughter took plates and mugs into the kitchen. The rest of them stood awkwardly in the living room.

“Ray, Carlotta,” Mr. Vitale said to Rocco’s parents, “I don’t want to be rude, but I would appreciate it if you told your son to leave.”

“That is rude, Santo,” Leonora said. “You have no reason to speak to your guests that way.”

“You haven’t been around, as usual, so
don’t
--” Chiara’s father said.

“We heard what happened in July, but--” Rocco’s dad said.

“Then you know why I don’t want him anywhere near my daughter.”

Chiara stood, shaking a little, a horrified grimace on her face.

“Santo,” Leonora said, “need I remind you that you seduced a sixteen-year-old girl, my daughter? Whatever Rocco and Chiara have done can’t be worse than that.”

“Mama!”
Chiara’s mom said. “You know that’s not how it was. Whereas I know it’s not Chiara’s fault. Even she thinks he has some hold on her she doesn’t understand. She was vulnerable and he took advantage.”

Chiara went red before paling. “You took that paper from my purse, didn’t you?”

“I was looking for a pen. You always have one and it fell out.”

“So you read it? What is wrong with you, all of you? I’m thirty-five and you’re still trying to control me. These people,” Chiara said, motioning to Rocco’s parents, “have been kinder to me than my own family. They haven’t judged me or tried to meddle. They just helped.”

Rocco’s brows edged together as she glanced at him. Did she really think it was his fault? That he took advantage of her? His shoulders sagged and he shoved his hands in his pockets. Chiara ran out. The front door slammed.

“Go after her,” Leonora said.

Before anyone could protest, Rocco jogged out into the cool night. Chiara stood under the apple tree in the corner of the yard, the first place he’d looked. She leaned against the trunk when he approached.

“Why are you here?” she said.

“Your grandma,” he said.

“Go away.”

He almost turned but he looked at her first. Her chin quivered and her eyes darted like a scared little girl. “No,” he said.

She met his eyes with a frown. “I don’t get you. Isabella told me--”

“I was out at a bar? I wasn’t drinking. Maybe I thought about finding some woman, but can you really blame me? I didn’t though. No one wants to have sex with a guy who can’t stop talking about another woman.”

“Chiara,” Isabella called as she walked out into the yard. “You forgot your purse and I need you to give me a ride, remember?”

Rocco waited until Isabella stood next to him. He grabbed Chiara’s purse and dug in it for her keys.

“Hey,” Isabella said. He handed her the keys.

“Hostage negotiations,” Rocco said.

“What are you offering?” Isabella said.

“One, pissing off your brother Santo.
Two, getting in good with your grandma.
Three, free handyman service anytime.
Four
,…
” He couldn’t think of more.

“Pissing off my dad,” Isabella said. She smiled.
“Five, a happier sister. ‘Night.”

“Isabella,” Chiara said in a pleading tone.

More voices sounded from the porch. Rocco grabbed Chiara, slung her over his good shoulder, and strode to his truck. Male voices shouted at him to stop, but he didn’t. He opened the passenger door of his truck and slid Chiara into the seat, buckling her up. She hadn’t hit him or yelled and when he brushed against her, she whispered a sigh.

“Happy Birthday!”
Leonora shouted. Chiara raised her hand to her as Rocco got in. He revved the engine and drove away.

“Why are you doing this,” Chiara asked, staring out the window.
“Aside from the obvious.”

“I have a birthday present for you.”

“I got all your gifts,” she said.

“You knew?”

“I wasn’t sure at first. But Uncle Max had told me you called him about getting Grandma to town, so I had an idea. The boys love their costumes. The roses are gorgeous. I play the Alicia Keys CD every day. And write in the journal.”

“Maybe I should’ve gotten you one with a lock,” he said.

She smiled. “I need to stop writing on scraps of paper and leaving them in my purse.”

“Do you think that?” he said. He turned onto his street.

“What?”

“That I took advantage of you.” He parked in his driveway and turned off the car. The silence unnerved him for a moment.

“No. I just write to try and figure things out.”

“Have you figured it out?”

“No.”

“I’ll take you home if you want.”

“I want my birthday present.”

“Maybe it’s not what you want.”

“You’re the only one who can give me what I want,” she said.

If only she meant more than sex. Still, he grinned. Sex was great, he’d take whatever she gave. He hopped out and walked to her door, opening it and leading her into the house, his hand on the small of her back.

They stood in the darkened living room, close together. “What can I do?” he said.

“Take care of me,” she whispered.

Forever.
But he held the word in. Her husky voice and roaming hands told him what she meant. His body didn’t care, but responded immediately to her touch. They kissed, deep and long. He took her hand and led her into his bedroom.

Slowly, he unzipped her dress and slid it off. Caressing her face, he gazed into her eyes. They sparkled with tenderness. Hope drew a smile to his lips. His fingers tingled as he ran them through her hair. She placed her hand over his and kissed his palm. Fires snapped to life in every limb. They explored each other with torturous, fantastic thoroughness, peeling off the rest of their clothes as they went. He pressed himself into her as they kissed again, moaning at her warm, naked, beautiful body. Silently, he maneuvered her onto the bed, watching her as he opened his nightstand drawer. His chest tightened for a moment, seeing how her curves had diminished and her stillness, as if she didn’t have the energy to participate. He could give enough for them both.

Her relief as he entered her washed over him, urging him to steady his pace and watch her. They studied each other. Chiara wrapped her legs around him, drawing herself closer to him. As she tilted and thrust in tiny movements, he held her, his body craving her, moving closer to the edge. They rocked together. Kissing her hair, her scent pulling him into the chasm, he let go.

“I love you,” he whispered in her ear. They dropped together into pure pleasure. He breathed her in as he came back up into reality.

Her breath blew hot on his neck, still heavy. He kissed her ear, her cheek,
her
lips. Smiling, he gazed at her. Her eyes were closed--a tear, like a dewdrop, flashed down. He waited for her to open her eyes and tell him what he most wanted to hear. But she turned her face away and pushed on his chest.

He broke, splintered like a cracked bat. Rolling off her, he put his arm over his face and lay back. Her body was warm next to his but he grew cold, shut away from her. She gave her body, but nothing else. His hands clenched, sending a message to the rest of him to do the same. Darkness enveloped him.

Chiara sat up, jostling the bed. “I understand,” she said. He almost laughed, but his throat constricted. “We all say things like that when…the sex is that good.”

She didn’t say it. He shut himself down, assumed his game face.
“Yeah.”
He chuckled as he stood and walked into the bathroom. “I love you for tonight.” He pulled the door shut behind him and stood in the black empty space.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chiara pulled her knees into her chest and hugged her legs. A few more tears rolled down her cheeks. To hear him say those words was sweeter than she ever imagined. But she knew it wouldn’t work, wouldn’t last, and she couldn’t take any more pain right now. She just wanted this one night, but now she couldn’t have that. She stood and almost fell back onto the bed. Steadying herself, she walked to the other side of the bed to find her clothes. Bending down to retrieve her panties, she snapped up when the bathroom door opened.

“Take me home now,” she asked, barely managing the words.

“If you want,” he said. She shivered at his tone. Glancing at him, she froze. Moonlight traced his strong, taut body, the crags and laugh lines in his face. He turned and saw her looking.

“I want this night with you,” she said, finding her voice. “Tonight, I want to believe. I don’t want to know anything except being here with you.” She gripped her dress to her stomach and pleaded silently.

“What do you want to believe?”

“That you love me,” she whispered, studying his chest.

He took her chin in his hand and forced her to look at him. “Why does it matter?”

“Because I love you,” she said. Her clothes floated to the floor. His hands held her cheeks and his body eased next to hers. He kissed her and she threw her arms around his neck. She devoured his kisses and returned them, each one an apology. As he kissed her cheeks and neck, she moaned softly. “I love you, oh, I love you,” she whispered.

“And I love you, my Chiara, my light.” Sincerity and truth permeated every word uttered in his deep, tender voice, confirmed in his unwavering gaze. Never had anyone spoken to her like that. She’d heard the words, said them herself, but now they entered her ready to take up residence and remodel. Too bad you’re uninhabitable, a little voice whispered to her. She kissed Rocco with an urgency that made her stomach queasy. Pressing her cheek into his chest alleviated the illness, which faded as he caressed her back.

“I’ll take care of you,” he said. He eased them into bed, where they lay snuggled together.

She ran her fingers over his chest. “When did you know?”

“It started at Ava’s christening party. I knew something was different.”

“All that time?” She bit her lip. Maybe…

“Not you, I guess. Did you just realize it or something?”

She smiled at his teasing. “I knew for sure when we had sex the first time.”

He shifted and tensed. “But you don’t want to, do you?”

“Want to what?” She knew what he meant but she didn’t want to talk about it.

“Love me.”

“I’m still married. I can’t give you anything right now.”

“You mean you won’t.”

“Please don’t. I can give you tonight. If that’s not enough…”

“It’s not. I want--”

“This was a mistake.” She began to rise, but he tightened his hold and brought her back into his chest.

“I’m not letting you go,” he said. “I need you here. Gotta make sure you eat your breakfast.”

“I promise, but only if it comes with a side of sausage.”

He chuckled. “That’s on the all night unlimited buffet.
For me, some biscotti.”

Chiara smiled.
“A sweets man?”

“The Chiara dessert special only.”

She leaned into him more closely. His savory man scent made her forget all her concerns. Turning sideways, he pressed himself against her and gazed at her again as he smoothed her hair. She began to kiss her way down, but he hugged her up to him, kissing her.

“Let’s save the eating until later,” he said. “First, we need to make up.”

“I thought we did,” she said, teasing.

“I’m not sure you’re convinced,” he said. His fingertips traced her spine, drawing heat lower and deeper.

“You know me too well.”

“I don’t think so.” They were as close as two people could get, almost. “Enough to know you’re ready.”

“For you, always,” she whispered.

“Me too.”

He kissed her as they came as close as they could to each other. Moving inside her, he proved the truth of his words. They wrapped around each other in a complete embrace.

“You’re so…” he said. He stopped. “I forgot--”

“It’s okay,” she said in a low tone. He felt too good, the bareness of him, the extra heat. She’d just finished her cycle, so she knew she couldn’t get pregnant. She trusted him with the rest, with her life.

He sighed out in relief and began again. The intimacy of their position gripped her, the truth of his love knocked on the doors of her empty rooms.

“Please don’t stop,” Chiara whispered. “Don’t ever stop.”

He quickened his pace slightly before he studied her. Afraid to meet his eyes, she shut hers and kissed him.

“I won’t,” he breathed out as she moved to his neck. He must have known what she meant without even looking at her. If he stopped loving her, it would finally break that part of her she thought was gone, or buried, or damaged beyond repair. Rocco was an amazing handyman. But would he be satisfied working on her jobsite only?

She grasped him tighter as he continued his steady strokes. Heat melted her into him and she lost all thought but that she needed him, wanted to be his wife, have his baby. She almost screamed it, but she caught herself, somehow, before the sweet release silenced her. Holding Rocco, she made herself tighten around him until he came. She groaned with him, overwhelmed with the sensation of him inside her.

They didn’t speak again, but Chiara smiled. His touch spoke to her as words couldn’t. She held him as his breath slowed, sleep overtaking him. He slipped out but she remained locked in his arms, their legs intertwined. Snuggling into his chest, she found the beat of his heart. Soon it drowned out the inner voice, the one that told her a man like him couldn’t be faithful, love never lasted, he didn’t want to get married and have a baby, he was happy with his life the way it was. Tonight his heart, his body, his love, was hers. It had to be enough.

Aside from a midnight trip to the bathroom, Chiara slept all night curled into Rocco’s sturdy body. She thought about waking him up for a midnight snack, but his face beamed a contented half smile, so she just scooted
herself
back to where she’d been and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, the room was still dark, but the clock told her it was time to get up. She sighed and Rocco shifted.

“Where’re you going?” he said as she slid her legs from his.

“It’s six-thirty. I need to be at work at eight and I still have to stop by Isabella’s and change.”

“Let’s call in sick,” he said.

“Like your parents wouldn’t see through that.”

“If you’d--”

“I’m getting in the shower.”

“I’m coming,” he said.

They both did--another one of Chiara’s fantasies fulfilled. There was nothing quite like shower sex: hot water spraying, steam floating, bodies slick and wet, the acrobatics of balancing against the wall. Of course, Rocco was so
strong,
he supported her, which only added to her enjoyment.

After dressing, they ate breakfast. Rocco made her scrambled eggs with spinach on toast and she cleaned her plate, the first time in over a month. Sex was a real appetite booster. He smiled while they sat at the table, clearly satisfied. She washed the dishes while he poured coffee into two travel mugs.

“Do you have an extra toothbrush?” she said.

“Probably,” he said. “You wouldn’t need to worry about all this if you’d move in.”

“I can’t.” She walked down the hall and opened the door to the closet she knew Sabrina had stored some bathroom things in.

“You won’t.” He stood near her. The frown in his tone made her back tense.

Grabbing a toothbrush from the shelf, she went into his bathroom. He stood at the other sink and they both finished getting ready to leave.

When she walked into the living room for her purse, he grabbed her arm.

“I want you to--”

“I told you, I can’t. I’m still married.”

“You’re getting divorced. Didn’t your lawyer tell you California is a no fault state? You’re a good mom--”

She clenched her jaw.
“Right.
Most people don’t see it that way. I can’t shake things. Kitty--” Her phone rang. Speak of the cat herself. That was insulting to felines. If she didn’t answer, Kitty would call back. “Good morning,” Chiara said, turning from Rocco.

“It won’t be until Phil is free of you,” Kitty said.

“We have children together.”

“I’ve heard what you’re up to,” Kitty hissed.

“I’m on my way to work, I need to go.”

“I’m sure it’s only temporary.
Until you find another unsuspecting man to sink your claws into.”

“Stop calling me or I’ll have my lawyer--” Chiara said, trying to keep the shaking in her hands only. Kitty laughed, strangely lighthearted, like Glinda in “The Wizard of Oz.” Chiara shoved the phone in her purse.

“Phil’s mother?”
Rocco said.

Chiara nodded.

“Is she threatening you? You should tell your lawyer.”

“Will you let me handle things?” Chiara snapped. “If you would have in the first place, I wouldn’t be in this mess.”

Rocco worked his jaw, his eyes sparked. “Bullshit,” he said. “You want a ride, I’m leaving. Otherwise, get a cab.”

Chiara followed him to his truck and climbed in. He sped the mile over to Isabella’s, screeching to a stop at the curb. “Just because you had a bad week doesn’t mean you can crap all over me,” he said.
“Maybe if you didn’t give up so easily.
It was only the first week you’d had the boys--”

“How did you know that?” she said. “Did your mom tell you?” She gripped her purse.

“No. I was in the office--”

“Eavesdropping.
Poor pitiful Chiara.
Stay away from me,” she said. She threw open the door and jumped down, slamming the door before she ran to the house. Her hands shook as she found the keys, wishing he would come after her. But his truck peeled out and raced down the street. Hurriedly, she let herself in, ran into her room, changed, and left for work.

That day and evening she shut down, just so she could function. Mrs. Buffone asked if she was coming down with something, but Chiara assured her everything was fine. Chiara and Isabella snapped at each other that evening and both slammed themselves into their rooms for the night. Chiara tried to read, but she couldn’t concentrate. She stared at her phone for awhile then called the boys to wish them goodnight. It was her fault, but still Rocco could have been more sensitive since she was the one going through the divorce.
Except she didn’t want his pity.
She had to get through this by herself. Letting Phil help her in the beginning was now backfiring on her, and she saw no reason why things with Rocco would turn out differently.
Except he wasn’t like Phil and his family seemed to truly care.
But she’d thought that about the Kirkwoods in the beginning too. Her head ached. She turned off the light and tried to sleep.

Rocco called her the next morning, but she didn’t answer. A fitful sleep led her to the conclusion that she should just end it now before anymore damage was done. Working with his parents made it difficult to put him out of her mind, though. Maybe she should look for a different job. By the time they left for the day, Chiara wanted to lay her head on the desk and sob. She could call her grandma, but she seemed so busy with Rocco’s uncle Rob and catching up with family and friends in the city, Chiara decided against it. She had to do this alone.