Disenchanted Page 4

  “What the hell was that?”

  Marco chuckled softly as he poured more and admired the glass in his hand. “Bourbon. Beautiful barrel-proof bourbon.”

  I put a hand on my throat. “I think I can breathe fire.”

  With a smirk, he held up the glass in a toast. “You’ve been breathing fire since the moment you laid eyes on me, signora.”

  “Is that why you’re drinking? Because I hurt your feelings?”

  Already too close, he leaned forward until his face was only a couple inches from mine. His breath smelled of the alcohol he’d just swallowed and like something vaguely sweet.

  “Why don’t you like me, Tesoro? Hmm?”

  I sputtered. “Because, you’re…well…and…”

  He grinned. “I see. All that, eh? Your sister, she likes me so much she kissed me.”

  I couldn’t believe he had the nerve to say that to me. I mean, I already knew about the kiss, but he was bragging about it to me.

  “You kissed her!”

  One of his fingers smashed against my lips, making my heart kick up in speed again. “Sshhh. Don’t wake the baby.”

  I scowled so deeply it hurt my face. I went to slap his finger away, but he caught my hand in his.

  “Is that the problem then, Tesoro? You want a kiss, too?”

  “Not from your lips.” I snatched back my hand as he laughed quietly. “Why are you still here anyway? I thought you had your own home to go to.”

  He sighed as he sat up straight, putting some much-needed space between us. “Kyle and Lily are very paranoid right now, understandably so. They did not want you and your family left alone tonight.”

  One of my eyebrows rose. “You’re supposed to be our hero if anything happens?”

  “Well, if kidnappers come, I may let them have you, but the rest of your family I will protect with my own life.”

  I rolled my eyes at his little joke—at least, I thought it was a joke. Silence fell between us, but I didn’t mind the not talking part, since my jaw was locked from the pain I was in. I wanted so badly to reach for my limb and attempt to stroke away the agony, but I kept my hands fisted tightly in my lap.

  Marco got to his feet after a few minutes. I watched as he walked down the hall to Kyle’s office. When he came out, he no longer had the bottle of bourbon and the glass. He kneeled beside me, hands hanging over his knees. His gaze was kind but unyielding.

  “I am going to pick you up. You are not going to complain or fight, okay? I will not leave you here on the floor in pain any longer. Do you understand?”

  I thought I had hidden it well, but it was probably obvious why I was on the floor, and no doubt he had witnessed my limp get worse by the hour. Part of me wanted to rebel at the idea of him helping me, but the truth was, I couldn’t get up on my own.

  I searched his face for pity and found none, only resolve. If there had been pity there, I wouldn’t have been able to handle that.

  “Fine. Whatever. Just don’t drop me.”

  As he scooped me into his arms with ease, Marco looked down at my face with that smirk in place. “Perhaps if I dropped you on your pretty head, you’d develop a better personality.”

  My own smirk pulled at my lips. “Fat chance of that.”

  I felt the vibration of his laughter and had the wild desire to put my ear to his chest to listen more closely, but I knocked that girly idea right out of my head. His scent, though…gawd it was driving me crazy. He smelled like what one of those dramatic designer cologne commercials, like a fantasy. It was slightly musky yet sweet and light, but also seemed to wrap around me.

  Grudgingly, I commented on his scent. “You smell good.”

  His brows popped up with surprise. “Is that a compliment?”

  “No. It’s a fact.”

  “It is the nicest fact you have said to me since we’ve met.”

  My eyes rolled. “It wasn’t meant to be nice. It was meant to be factual.”

  His eyes rolled, too, as he let out a heavy sigh.

  Carefully, he put me on the couch in the living room. Despite my objections, he used some of the decorative throw pillows to prop up my crippled leg.

  “Stay here.”

  “Nowhere for me to go but the floor,” I responded blandly.

  A pillow hurled for my head, but I batted it away before it could smack into me. My glare could’ve killed, but Marco didn’t care as he only showed off a dimple in the one cheek before he waltzed into the kitchen.

  For several minutes, I watched with mild curiosity as Marco moved around the kitchen, pulling containers from the fridge. He emerged with a plate of hot food in his hand. When he attempted to give it to me, I stupidly blinked at it.

  “What is this?”

  He looked at the plate as if it were a mystery and answered slowly, like he was confused. “It is food. For you.”

  My lips parted as my eyes moved up to his face. “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why did you bring me food?”

  I could see the sarcasm in his face before he even opened his mouth. “In my country, we eat the food.”

  “But we haven’t exactly been getting along. I’ve been so…” I trailed off, not really wanting to admit exactly how I’ve been, but Marco had me covered it seemed.

  “Bitchy? Nasty? Mean? Rude? Bitter? You are my good friend’s sister. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t take care of you while she is unable to?”

  I bristled. “I don’t need you to take care of me. I can take care of myself.”

  His gaze settled on my propped leg. “Clearly.”

  Judging by the heat I felt in my face, I knew it had turned ten shades of red. “Fuck you, Marco Mangini.”

  “Perhaps that is what you need.”

  “Excuse me?”

  He shrugged conversationally. “Maybe you need that bad attitude fucked right out of you.”

  I snorted. “Here it comes. Now you’re going to offer to do the deed?”

  With a sigh, Marco put the plate down on the glass coffee table and collapsed into an armchair. He threw one leg over the side, as comfortable as he’d be in his own home.

  “Why do you treat me like a donnaiolo?”

  Confused, I tilted my head. “A what?”

  “A womanizer. A playboy.”

  “Oh.” I nodded in understanding. “A male slut.”

  “Whatever. Why do you treat me like that…as if you know me?”

  “You kissed your best friend’s pregnant girlfriend, in case you’ve forgotten.”

  The smug curve of his pretty lips made me want to punch him in the mouth. “Impossible to forget that sweet mouth. But so what? You kissed, fucked, married, and had kids with your sister’s fiancé.” With a syrupy sweetness, he added, “In case you’ve forgotten.”

  Well, I should’ve seen that one coming. I’d pretty much opened the door with a giant welcome sign for that. Yet, I sat there too stunned to speak or move, with my jaw clamped shut to keep my lips from quivering. Marco just played with his phone, ignoring me completely.

  He’d really shut me the fuck up.

  Shit.

  There it was, the truth. I had done that. I had betrayed Lily with her fiancé, the father of her child, who later became the father of my children. I could dress the facts up with pretty ribbons and sentiments, but the pretty things could not hide my dirty deeds. I was an awful, destructive person. It didn’t matter how long ago it had happened, or that my sister found it within herself to forgive me. I was still an awful and destructive person, but I did not like for Marco Mangini to think so, too.

  I opened my mouth to say…well, anything, but light footfalls on the stairs had both of our heads swinging that way. It was my mom, hand running along the Cherrywood banister as she came down, her face lit with contentment. She faltered as she reached the bottom and neared the couch, though.

  I had to clear my throat before I spoke. “Mom, are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I just came down
to get some water. Are you okay?” She rounded the couch and took in my propped leg. “Oh, honey. You’re in pain.”

  “I’m okay.”

  I started to maneuver myself to get up, but Mom pointed at me as anger flashed on her face.

  She scolded me like I was a little girl again. “Don’t you dare. You’ve done too much today. Climbing all those stairs. What were you thinking?”

  I hated when she worried about me. It was my belief that her worry over me and the kids was what had caused her heart attack earlier this year. Even if it wasn’t, surely it didn’t help for her to carry that kind of stress.

  “Mom, I’m fine. I’m just a little achy. Don’t worry.”

  “Yeah, sure, Lyd. I’ll stop worrying about you as soon as you stop worrying about me.”

  I bit my lip and said nothing, because we both knew that wouldn’t happen. I had to let her do her thing, hover over me, bring me pain meds, and reheat my food. She fluffed the pillows behind me, rearranged my leg and stroked my hair away from my face with such loving tenderness I found it hard to speak. I didn’t deserve all she’d done for me in the past, or what she was doing for me now, but it seemed to make her feel better. So, for once, I let her.

  Marco bid Mom goodnight amidst all her fussing. He barely spared a glance at me before he jogged up the stairs, but when he got to the top, he paused and glanced back at me. Our eyes locked, but neither of us changed our emotionless expressions or spoke. Still, as he walked away, I felt different. I just wasn’t sure yet if it was good or bad.

  Chapter Four

  Sometimes, I still couldn’t believe how much my sister had changed. She had more ink than she’d had nine years ago, but the punk-style hair, including all the wild colors, was gone. The tongue ring still flashed in her mouth when she spoke, but other than her ears, there were no other piercings in her face. I didn’t feel we had yet reached a place where I could inquire about her nipple piercings, and honestly, I kind of didn’t want to know.

  Lily had transformed in many ways. Her natural auburn hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail, her face was clear of any of the heavy makeup she used to wear, and a glimpse into her closet earlier told me her tastes in clothing had altered. It had been shocking earlier this year in Ohio to see the drastic changes in her appearance. She’d worn a lot of band T-shirts and torn jeans during her stay, but she’d sometimes have on fancy, red-bottom pumps instead of sneakers, and always had her large designer bag on her arm. It was like seeing the past her and the present her clash together, except it was a good clash, like pretzels and ice-cream, or peanut butter and Fluff, or Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston—who will forever be my favorite Hollywood couple, despite the fact that they’d split.

  “Can I get you anything else? Do you need anything?” Kyle’s eyes traced over Lily’s body, inspecting it for injury even though she had barely moved in hours.

  Lily wanted to laugh, I could tell, but she held back as she shook her head and peered at her boyfriend. “Nope. I’m good. Just like I was five minutes ago.”

  “How about lunch? Do you want lunch?”

  “Baby, I just finished breakfast a half hour ago.”

  “Right.” He nodded, and then sprang into action again. “Are you comfortable? Do you want me to fix your pillows or anything?”

  “Kyle.” Lily’s voice was low but commanding, making Kyle stop all the pillow fluffing and stare at her anxiously.

  She crooked a finger, and as he got closer, she grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him down for a brief but hot kiss that made me feel like I should’ve left the room and slapped an XXX on the door.

  “You are doing a great job of taking care of me, but I would like to spend some time with my sister now. Would you mind helping Mom with the kids?”

  Kyle heaved a sigh. “I’m being such a skirt right now, aren’t I?”

  “Yeah,” I put my two cents in as Lily said, “Pretty much, but it’s really sweet. You’re a good egg, Kyle.”

  He offered me a small grin. “Thanks. Call if you guys need me.”

  After one more kiss with Lily, he reluctantly left the room. She stared at the door, even after it closed.

  “I think my boyfriend was kidnapped by aliens, and that guy is a pod person.”

  “He’s worried about you. He almost lost you. We all almost lost you.”

  That made me shiver and swallow back the ball that had instantly formed in my throat. I hadn’t known just how close we’d been to losing my sister until earlier today when Kyle and Lily relayed their story to my mom and me. Mom had been such a mess I thought she was going to have another heart attack on the spot. I’d convinced her to go lay down, although I’d barely been able to hold in my own emotions.

  Some of Kyle’s and Lily’s story was confusing, though. There were some things they hadn’t told us, like where Lily had been coming from before she was attacked, or how Emmy Grayne, Lily’s former boss, was involved. I wanted to bug her for the answers, but then again, I had plenty of stories of my own with shadowy corners.

  Lily had come home yesterday afternoon, but between getting her settled and my restless children, we hadn’t had much time to talk. We made up for it today, though. For over an hour, we talked like we used to when we were younger, before any guy had come between us. I gave her what little gossip I had about people we knew back in Ohio, which wasn’t much since I mostly stayed to myself. We reminisced some—conveniently leaving Gavin out of those memories—and she ranted about Kyle’s mom, who I’d met earlier in the day after Lily came home.

  I’d thought those real housewives shows were fake, but Felicia Sterling could’ve starred in The Real Housewives of Philadelphia, if the cable channel ever wanted to go there. She’d been dressed to the nines when she’d arrived, as if she’d been on her way to some social club. Nails professionally manicured, hair professionally colored and cut, and gold and diamonds had gleamed from her wrists, fingers, and neck every time she’d moved. She’d been a little reserved toward me and my family, but that didn’t matter, as long as she was good to Lily.

  “She’s a pain in my ass sometimes,” my sister said of Kyle’s mother, but then she sighed, and her eyes softened a bit. “But I try not to give her a hard time. She’s been more involved with Kyle’s life over the past few months than she’s been his whole life. I don’t know what’s worse, though. Having a present but unreliable parent, or never knowing that parent at all.”

  I knew that was more about our own father than it was about Felicia Sterling. Our sperm donor of a father abandoned us when I was only a few months old. I had no memories of the man and felt nothing for him. No anger, no sense of loss. Lily didn’t have any memories either, but she was hurt by his abandonment. I never cared, because I hadn’t known the difference between having a father and not.

  My heart twisted as a deep sadness for my children hit me. It wasn’t a new feeling, but most of the time life was too hectic for me to really focus on it. Gavin Jr. would never know how much he resembled his father, because a million pictures could never one hundred percent convey the resemblance. Cora would miss out dancing with her dad at the Snowflake Dance the school held every year. And Mandy, like me, would never know the difference between having a father and not. That was fine for me, but I’d always wanted more for her and the others.

  “Crap,” Lily whispered, her eyes wide. “I didn’t mean it like that. I wasn’t talking about Gavin.”

  I swallowed a couple times before I could talk. “I know what you meant.”

  After a few seconds of silently staring at me, Lily spoke softly. “You never talk about him. You haven’t really talked about him since Mom’s heart attack.”

  There was so much to say about my husband, especially about our last days together, but I didn’t know how to make the words come out. I didn’t know how to confess the truths that I’d been holding so close to my heart. Maybe it would be a relief to tell her, to share the thoughts and feelings that plagued me, but my story was
n’t the fairytale romance Lily thought it was. In her delicate state, I didn’t want to do anything that could cause her distress and endanger her or the baby.

  She leaned forward at my silence, those gray eyes beseeching. “Lydia, you don’t have to hold it all in. You don’t have to be silent. You can talk to me, or if you have to talk to someone else, do it. You know I know better than anyone about holding in grief.”

  It was impossible for her to know exactly how I felt, especially since she didn’t have all the facts. Especially since her life was completely different from mine. We didn’t share the same kind of grief. I, with all the prayers and hopes I had in me, wished I would never know how it feels to lose a child as she had. By that same token, I hoped she would never know how it felt to not only lose a husband, but to lose a husband long before he actually died.

  “Thanks.” The word came out sharper than she deserved. “Speaking of holding in emotions, how are you really doing after getting kidnapped by a juiced-up psychopath?”

  Her mouth formed a flat line of disapproval at my diversion, but then she blew out a resigned breath. “I’m trying to stay positive, but…” Her voice lowered. “I can’t sleep at night, and when I do, I wake up terrified that she’s gone, that he took her.” She placed a hand on her swollen belly and absently caressed it. “I can’t even begin to relax until I feel her moving around in there.”

  I had no idea what to say, how to ease her of those fears. Platitudes of it being okay and all working out in the end didn’t work for me after the accident, and I wasn’t so sure they’d work for Lily either considering she’d been down this road before.

  “And I’m angry.” Her whisper was harsh, and the hand on her belly clenched into a fist. “I’m angry that I couldn’t defend myself. I allowed that monster to just take me, Lydia. I always considered myself one badass bitch, but when it counted…I wasn’t. I wasn’t anything but a weeping vagina.”

  I reached out and squeezed her hand as I offered her a quavering smile. “There’s a cream for that—your weeping vagina. Antibiotics.”