Page 39 of Mending Our Chance

21 Felicity

When I heard my aunt was dead, I had thought I was all alone. It seemed that the most important thing a person could have—one’s family—had been taken away from me. After I had dealt with the first responders and arranged for my aunt’s body to go to the funeral home, I had then felt lost with nowhere to go. Dealing with the immediate crisis had made me busy, but when everyone left my aunt’s apartment that dreadful night, I suddenly realized how alone I was, with nowhere to go except my own empty abode. So, I had stepped out onto the street—a neighborhood that was probably not the best place to walk alone—and just let my emotions go. My body filled with the grief that I had held back since I had been called to my aunt’s apartment.

That night, my feet had taken me across many city blocks to Marcus’ dumpy little studio. I’d looked up at that unimpressive building and taken a chance. He had held me that night as I decided to change my fate, heal what was broken, and start a friendship. Forgiving Marcus and letting him in meant that I would never be truly alone. He became my person again.

My mind replayed the events of that night as I prepared to repeat the process. Sitting before my vanity mirror, I relived what had happened and what could happen tonight if I let it. As I carefully applied my makeup, I wondered if I could have more than I ever thought possible. I had a father who wanted me back in the fold and brothers who adored me. I also had Marcus. The light blush I applied to my contoured cheek bones reminded me of his soft, pink lips. A shiver ran through me at the memory of them on my skin, and I smiled at my reflection.

I liked Marcus. A lot. He told my father he was my boyfriend. Grinning like an idiot in high-school, I replayed that scene from earlier.

Marcus really was my someone. He was the one I had gone to when I needed solace—the one I kept going to. Despite my fears of being burned by him again, I had still claimed Marcus as my person. I just hadn’t admitted it to him. I hoped it was obvious. After all, we worked together all day, and it felt odd now if we were apart at night. The only reason I was here at my place tonight was because I needed to access my wardrobe and get ready for the party.

Thinking of the man and the logistics of our separate locations, I grabbed my phone and sent Marcus a quick message.

Me: Should I come over after dinner?

While I waited for his response, I threw a deep red lipstick in my clutch and did a final check in the mirror. When my phone dinged, I swiped it off the vanity and tapped into the message.

Marcus: Only if you bring some dessert.

I typed out a sexy, cute reply and almost dropped my phone when the door buzzer went off. Clutching it to my chest, I blinked hard. Get a grip, girl. It’s just your father. Right, not the bogeyman. Of course, to my father’s enemies, they would most likely face the things that go bump in the night rather than run into Signor Argento.

Pushing send to the text about me being dessert instead, I left the apartment and locked up behind me. There was no way I would meet my father up here, not where he could pry. Our first meeting had to be on neutral ground. Laying my aunt’s remains to rest meant that I had a chance to start over again with not only Marcus, but my father as well. However, I had to tread carefully.

My father greeted me at the curb, standing in front of his town car. After exchanging pecks on the cheek, he helped me into the vehicle before sliding around to the other side. Glancing to the front of the car, I saw the driver was more of a muscle than a chauffeur—and the man was packing heat. Typical.

“You could have invited me up for an aperitif,” my father said in a neutral voice as the car pulled away. Although a soft smile played on his thin lips, his face was a mask and whatever emotions lay beneath were completely unreadable.

“Fresh out of liquor,” I lied. And he knew it.

I kept my fingers from fidgeting as we began a light conversation, testing the waters with topics like who got married, who had had babies, and how the crops were doing on the Family’s estates in the Old Country. Thinking about Southern Italy made me wonder if Marcus had ever been to Europe in his travels. Maybe this summer we could go overseas? I blinked. Thoughts of a future with Marcus were now coming naturally. It proved that I truly believed that we would have a future. That thought was thrilling, comforting me in my present state of uncertainty with my father.

Before I knew it, the driver was parking the car and my father was helping me out of the vehicle. I let my mind wander as we dropped our coats with the hostess and made our way to the Signore’s table. I looked around the restaurant and realized that the man beside me owned this establishment too. So much for neutral ground. Stealing my nerves, I decided that before we began another thread of conversation about olive trees, I needed to speak my piece. Besides, it was only fair to the old man who took his seat across from me. So, folding my hands on the table’s edge, I blurted out the one question that I swore I wasn’t going to ask, “Why didn’t you call to gloat after I divorced that fool?”

“There is no victory in being proven right.” The Signore then went quiet and grabbed for his wine—which had been brought without needing to order. Swirling it, he absently stared into his glass.

I pressed the issue. I was bristling. My hot temper had risen to the surface and if I let myself relax, I would become vulnerable. “If you knew he was a gold digger from the beginning, why didn’t you tell me then?”

“Would you have listened?”

My father’s answer sucked the air from my lungs. No. But it would have been nice to know that he was against my union for a real reason, not because he spited me. I ground my teeth. The lies about my father hating me had been placed into my head by a particular dead woman, and I had been stupid enough to believe her. But I couldn’t just let my father waltz back into my world without some reasonable explanation and a promise that this fall out between us would not happen again.

“Felicity?”

My father was now the one who was pushing. I grabbed for the warm loaf of bread that the waitress had brought out. Ripping a piece off, I glared at the Signore. “No, I wouldn’t have given you the time of day to explain.”

“There it is.” He shrugged. “I wanted one dinner, just to chat and catch-up. But if you want to get into this, let’s go, daughter-mine.”

I crossed my arms then quickly uncrossed them, choosing instead to pick at the bread bunched up in my palm. He might want just a dinner, but I wanted answers first. “No, it can’t just be dinner. I need to know. Aunt Gianna said you had forbidden the union to spite me. And you say that you have more reasons behind the refusal of your blessing.”

“To be honest, I was trying to fix the situation without you getting hurt. Your aunt had sworn she was my ally in this, but as it turned out, she double crossed me and made sure that we were separated. You weren’t patient, and by the time I had boarded a plane to rescue you, you were married.”

“I see.” I did. I had only taken Toby because he was everything that Marcus was not. And when Toby seemed to want what Marcus could never give, I thought maybe I had found my man. But it didn’t take long to find out about Toby’s cheating and money situation. Not to mention the fact that he woke up to find his wealthy bride was disowned and let his true colors fly. “So cutting me off was saving me?”

The Signore inclined his head. “I was irate when I landed in San Diego and Gianna met me at the airport, acting like a fool. I turned around and took the next flight back to New York. It’s my fault. I let her chase me off when I should have shoved past her and went to you.”

My father rubbed his eyes, and I suddenly saw the raw hurt lurking underneath his grizzled exterior. I reached out and grabbed his free hand. Jerking in surprise, he looked down and then back up at me as he admitted, “Look, this is not something I say often but I’m sorry, daughter-mine. You were clearly just as hurt as I was and neither of us handles this kind of pain well.”

“Being honest is key…” My voice died off. Maybe the answers could wait—I didn’t need them as badly as I’d thought. I cut him off too easily. I shouldn’t have unreservedly listened to Auntie Gi. Determined to kick off this relationship on the right foot, I said to my father, “Let’s have a nice dinner, Babbo. We’ll sort the details of the past out another time. For now, I just want to have a nice meal with my babbo.” He nodded, and I added, “I hope it’s the first of many.”

His grim face lit up in a brilliant smile. “I would like that, daughter-mine.”

However, I knew that trying to fix what was broken was going to take more than just a dinner, but with his strong hand in mine, I decided this would be a fresh start. Squeezing his hand, I gently commented, “Just promise me that you will talk to me from now on, and I will promise to keep communication open on my end.”

He nodded eagerly. “That is something I can do.”

Leaning down, I plopped a kiss on his scarred knuckles and we turned the conversation to lighter topics. It was a good opening to what would hopefully become a more amicable future, which I realized as I looked at my father over my glass of red, that I had been craving for years. I was just sorry it had taken a death in the family for me to see what was right in front of me the whole time.

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