Disenchanted Page 7

  I gave her the finger and ignored her giggles as I walked down the hall, still a little shaky from our argument.

  Mom helped us get the kids packed up in Marco’s Range Rover before she took off to go meet with Felicia. When Marco offered me a hand up into the jeep, I took it after only a brief hesitation.

  “Just so you know, this means nothing.”

  I tried to pull my hand away, but he held it tightly.

  “What means nothing?”

  “This little excursion. It means nothing. You’re still wrong about me. I’m not…” I paused and made sure the kids weren’t paying attention before I finished in a whisper. “I’m not insecure, I’m not attracted to you, and I don’t give a flying shit if you’re attracted to me.”

  His thumb stroked over my skin. It took more energy than I’d like to admit not to react to that light touch. He leaned in, almost as close as he’d been last night.

  “I am not wrong.”

  I took that as a challenge. “What makes you so sure?”

  His mouth touched my ear, sending shivers I couldn’t suppress down my body.

  “Because you opened up for my kiss last night like a baby bird awaiting scraps from her mother.”

  Slowly, I turned my face toward his. We were so close, so dangerously close. I could practically feel the warmth of his lips on my own. “That was the worst metaphor I’ve ever heard in my whole life.”

  When he laughed, his mouth actually touched mine, making me suck in a breath like a fish out of water.

  “But it’s no less true.” Purposefully, he brushed those warm lips against my mine so quickly that I later wondered if it had really happened.

  With another chuckle at my frozen state, Marco released my hand and closed the car door.

  Chapter Seven

  When Marco told me we were going to his house in East Bumblefuck, New Jersey, I’d been skeptical.

  “So instead of being cooped up in the penthouse, the kids will be cooped up in your house in No Place, New Jersey?”

  “Trust me.”

  I hadn’t, but only a little more than an hour later, when I stood beside his Range Rover, staring wide-eyed at the property around us, I finally understood. The place was like a Thomas Kinkade painting. Nestled in acres and acres of woods, the two-story cabin was no Little House on the Prairie knockoff. Though it looked rustic and perfectly weathered, it was huge with its enormous windows and second floor wrap-around balcony. We were at the back of the house on a gravel drive, facing a large, serene lake. There was even a small boat tied to a dock. The shore on the other side was dotted here and there with other residences, but the view mostly consisted of trees.

  To my right, there was a well-worn narrow path through the grass that veered off into the woods and out of sight. On the left was a large clearing, surrounded by a wooden fence. Inside the clearing, much to the awe of the kids—and okay, mine, too—were two beautiful horses and stables, a chicken coop, complete with chickens clucking about, and a small barn. When a couple of goats came running out of the barn, the kids’ excitement—and okay, mine, too—grew.

  I shook my head dubiously as Marco came to stand next to me. “You didn’t say you lived on a farm.”

  “You did not ask.” He waved a dismissive hand. “It’s just a few pets.”

  A man came out of the barn and waved. Marco waved back before he lifted Amanda into his arms.

  “Come. Let’s go meet Mr. Micah and the animals.”

  The older two kids ran ahead. I was sure that Marco could’ve walked faster, but he didn’t seem to mind slowing down his pace for me. Usually, that would’ve made me all surly, but my surroundings were just too beautiful, and I was still awestruck by it all.

  “I do have an apartment in Philadelphia,” Marco said as we walked. “I have one in Manhattan as well, not far from my office. I bought this place about five years ago. I was tired of the cities, tired of the rush of the suburbs. When I first moved to the states, the city was a fantastic playground for Un ragazzo italiano dal paesello—that is, an Italian country boy. I will always have a love for the city and finer things, but this…this place speaks to il mio cuore.” He placed a hand over his heart.

  “I can see why. It’s like a dream.”

  He grinned at me, and when I found myself grinning back, I immediately cut that shit out.

  “This is Micah.” Now that we were closer, I could see he was an older gentleman, perhaps in his early seventies. “Micah and his wife, Dara, live in the guest house behind the stables. I tried to get them to move into the main house, but they’re stubborn, proud people.” He glanced at me with amusement. “Like someone else I know.”

  I ignored his comment as I reached out to shake the other man’s hand. “I’m Lydia. It’s nice to meet you.”

  Micah laughed as he heartily shook my hand. “You’re not going to put up with that, are you?”

  Marco snorted. “Oh, her claws will come out when I least expect it.”

  I glared at him, making him chuckle.

  After all the kids were introduced to Micah, he and Marco led us to meet the animals. It wasn’t even big enough to be considered a petting zoo, but the kids loved running their fingers over the horses’ long manes and giggled and screeched as the goats licked their hands and faces and butted them with their fury heads. I watched with the same fascination I’d had earlier this morning as Marco showed the kids how to carefully collect the hens’ eggs from the coop. He was gentle and patient, and he soothed Cora’s tears when she accidentally dropped one and it broke open at her feet.

  After about forty minutes with the animals, we waved to Micah and headed back to the house for lunch. This time, Marco ran ahead with the older kids as Mandy’s little legs tried to keep up. When they got too far ahead, Marco circled back and scooped her up once again and made her laugh hysterically while running after her siblings.

  I watched wistfully, wishing for the first time in a long while that I could run and jump, too. Rarely did I wish for such things, for something that couldn’t happen, but this once, I let myself imagine what it would be like to play with them, to run around and be silly with my kids, and with Marco.

  As they got close to the house, a door opened and a gray-haired, slightly rounded woman with a kind face stepped out onto the deck. Gavi was the first one up the steps, quickly followed by Cora. The woman, presumably Dara, bent over to talk to the children while Marco and Mandy lingered at the bottom, waiting for me. When I was only a few feet away, Marco held his hand out to me, a silent offer of help up the stairs, possibly a silent invitation to something else.

  My pride was a big, spiky thing. It fucking hurt to swallow, but swallow I did as I accepted the gesture by placing my smaller hand into his. If he was surprised or pleased, he didn’t show it. In fact, his easy expression never changed, which made me believe he’d had no doubts, that he had expected me to fall into line all along.

  Bastard.

  His hand was warm and gritty with dirt and grass and hay, and it was firm. Strong. He allowed me to put more weight on his hand than I would’ve admitted, but not once did he acknowledge it. I glanced over at him. Only for a second did our eyes lock, but it felt like an eternity later before we broke the spell.

  “Look at her!” Dara cried when we reached the top. She fondly cupped one of Mandy’s cheeks. “She is beautiful! They’re all beautiful. Oh, my goodness. My manners. I’m Dara.” She reached for the hand I’d just pulled from Marco’s grasp.

  “Lydia.” I felt uneasy. I didn’t want this woman to think I was Marco’s latest diversion, another woman for him to pass his time with until he got bored, but her next words were surprising.

  She shook a finger at him, with motherly authority. “It’s about time you’ve had some company. I know he likes it here because it’s quiet, but it’s too quiet. He hasn’t had anyone here since the spring when his family came from Italy.” She beamed down at my kids. “It’s nice to hear children playing again, even if just fo
r a day.”

  Maybe it was a trick of the light, but there seemed to be a hint of sadness on Marco’s face, but it was gone just as quickly as it had appeared.

  “I went and got the groceries you asked for,” Dara continued.

  “Grazie.”

  “And I mopped the floors, did all the dusting, and cleaned all the windows.”

  Marco groaned. “You did not have to do all of that, Dara. I only asked you to get groceries. You are not my maid.”

  Her hands went to her hips. “Then stop living like a pig. I also did your laundry since you left your dirty underpants on the floor.”

  The kids giggled. Dara seemed to be holding back her own amusement as she raised an eyebrow at them. “Do you leave your dirty underpants on the floor?”

  They continued to snicker as they shook their heads and cried out, “No!”

  “See?” She turned back to Marco. “Even the children don’t leave their dirty underpants on the floor.”

  I patted his shoulder. “It’s really good to know that you’re not perfect.”

  “Okay, okay. I hope everyone has had a good laugh. Dara, as always, I thank you. Now, if you please, go away before you embarrass me any further.”

  The woman laughed as she pinched both of his cheeks. “Ti voglio bene, giovanotto.”

  Marco kissed her chubby cheek. “Anch’io, mamma chioccia.”

  “If you need anything, give a shout.” She waved as she headed down the stairs.

  I barely knew the woman, but I liked her already. “Is she Italian?”

  “Yes. She moved to America long before I was born. Ran away to find an American man she had fallen in love with when she was only fifteen years old. As it turned out, that man already had a wife. Micah just happened to be visiting the city with his aunt and uncle when he found her sitting on her suitcase in Central Park, crying. She barely spoke any English then, but in time, they understood the situation. They didn’t want to leave her alone, and they didn’t want to leave her in the hands of the authorities. So, they took her in. Brought her back to this house…” He gazed around the property with fondness, and then regarded the house as if he were living in Dara’s and Micah’s memories. “Micah said he fell in love with her the moment he met her, even though he couldn’t understand a damn word she said.”

  I, too, looked around, my eyes wide. “This…this was Micah’s home?”

  He nodded. “It’s seen some additions and upgrades over the years, but yes, this was their home. Dara never went back to Italy, except to visit years later after she and Micah were married with children. They raised their family here. It was one of the reasons this place felt right to me. You could practically feel the love here, as if it is in the very dirt of the foundation. In the very wood.” His fingers dragged across the surface of the house.

  Gavi’s small hand touched the house, just under Marco’s. His small face was serious. “I think I feel it.”

  Cora’s tiny hand touched it next. “Me too.”

  When Mandy’s tiny palm flattened against the wood, I didn’t want to be the douche canoe not touching the house and sharing in the moment. With a sigh, I reached out and touched the house, too. It was smooth and surprisingly cool beneath the noon sun.

  “Do you feel it?” Marco’s whisper was close to my ear, his arm brushing against mine, his body heat making my skin burn.

  What I felt in that moment wasn’t the house’s ingrained memories, but I did feel something. Swallowing hard, I could only nod once, because I couldn’t trust my voice not to tremble.

  Chapter Eight

  Eight Years Ago

  “What do you think? Do you like it?”

  Gavin chewed nervously on his cheek as he watched me and waited for a response. I turned in another slow circle and searched for even just one redeeming quality for the house.

  It was two stories, about two thousand square feet, with three bedrooms, an eat-in kitchen, dining room, and a family room in addition to the formal living room. Most of the walls were covered with an ugly pinkish floral wallpaper, the floors carpeted in a hideous plush maroon, and the kitchen had bright yellow cabinetry, yellow and white tiled floor, and wallpaper featuring pears that looked suspiciously like cheerful scrotums.

  Finally, I faced Gavin again, warily. “The kitchen has ball sacks all over it.”

  His lips twitched just a bit at that. “Project number one: remove the ball sacks.”

  “This carpet belongs…well…nowhere. No one, anywhere, ever, should have this carpet.”

  “Project number two: replace offending carpet.”

  “If you also include the outdated bathrooms, the paneling in the one bedroom, and the necessary destruction of those hedges out front, it will only take you about three decades to complete everything. Gavin, it’s a lot of work, and probably very expensive work at that.”

  “If we do most of it ourselves, it’ll cut down the costs significantly, and the house has been on the market for so long, I’m confident I can get it for much less than asking price. We can then use the rest of the money for most of the updates. It won’t take thirty years. Maybe a couple years total, but not thirty. We can make this house exactly as we want it.”

  I remained unconvinced. “Maybe.”

  He took my hands into his and tilted his head to catch my eye. “We can do it. It might be hard sometimes. There is a lot of damage to be undone, but it isn’t impossible. We can do it. We can be happy here. All you have to do is say yes.”

  Holding his gaze, I knew Gavin wasn’t only talking about the ugly house; he was talking about us. I was just as doubtful about us as I was about the house. I wasn’t so convinced that we could do it—that is, flip our disastrous relationship into something new and beautiful. We had known each other for a very long time, but the damage he spoke of couldn’t be undone. It was impossible to undo our mangled past. We were forever entwined now, though, because we’d created a life together. That wasn’t something any decent person could just walk away from.

  Gavin and I agreed on a few things. Neither of us wanted me to raise the baby alone. We also didn’t want to have to ship the kid back and forth every other week or on weekends, or however custody could be arranged. We didn’t want any custody disputes at all, but even in situations where parents have the best of intentions, it happens. While there was nothing wrong with being a single parent—I was raised by one—we knew it would be better for our child if we raised him together under the same roof.

  Also, there was the financial burden to consider. In my months alone, I did my best to save and plan, but I had no idea how I was going to afford housing, transportation, medical expenses, diapers, formula if I didn’t or couldn’t breast feed, clothes, and all the other things one needs for a baby. With Gavin, however, I would be able to stay home with the baby for as long as I wanted, and both of us would have medical coverage under his insurance. He made okay money in Cleveland, but just yesterday, he’d received an offer for a position in Columbus that came with a nice salary increase. If he took it, and if we bought the ugly house with its ball-sack kitchen while being vigilant and spending money wisely, we could live comfortably. Plus, his parents would only be fifteen minutes away if we needed any support.

  As good as all that sounded on paper, though, there were still some ugly truths to consider. Gavin and I were not in love. We cared about each other. I could even go as far as to say that we loved each other, but it had always been as friends. Only once, eight months ago, had our relationship gone beyond that, and our lapse in judgment had brought pain and strife into our families. Maybe in a physical sense, we would be fine, but I could never love him the way my sister had loved him, and I strongly doubted Gavin could ever love me even half as much as he loved Lily. On the surface, he most likely didn’t have those expectations, but on a subconscious level—a very dangerous level—I believed Gavin would always compare me to her. My fear was that I would always fall short.

  “I really need this,” he said softly w
hen I stayed quiet for too long. “I really need you and our baby and this fresh start.”

  My heart fluttered uncomfortably in my chest. I knew he really needed us, or at least, he really needed our baby. This pregnancy gave Gavin something to hold on to, a reason to go on. I knew that was true, because it was true for me, too. Our baby was the only reason I had a will to wake up day after day, but…

  “I need you, Lydia.”

  The desperation in his eyes ripped me apart inside. I couldn’t say no. I couldn’t, because I needed him, too. Now that I was finally able to admit that to myself, I closed my eyes and took a breath. When I opened them again and stared into his eyes, it was with resolve. I gave him one word—one word that answered a lot of important, life-changing questions. Would I marry him? Could I learn to love him as my husband…or at least try? Could we move forward together and do our best not to live in the past? Would I move into the house he had chosen for us even though those were clearly pairs of balls all over the kitchen wall? Could we make it our own and learn to love in it?

  “Yes,” I said.

  Chapter Nine

  I stood at the sliding doors, watching Marco, Micah, Gavi, and Cora at the water’s edge. He was teaching them how to fish. I didn’t think Cora would be that interested, but she was just as enthusiastic as her brother to “catch a fishy.” I wasn’t down there with them because Mandy was asleep on the living room couch, having had a sleepy meltdown soon after lunch.

  I wasn’t watching them not because I had trust issues, but because there wasn’t much else for me to do besides wander through the house again. That wasn’t a bad choice, either. The interior was just as beautiful as the exterior. With its high wooden beams, open floorplan, and plenty of large windows throughout, the inside of the house was spacious and bright. Compared to Kyle’s luxurious but sterile penthouse, the cabin was made for comfort, for a family. It was strange that I’d felt a sense of home in Marco’s house, more than I’d felt all week in my own sister’s home.