Page 140 of Finally Mine
Boyfriend? Leaving tomorrow? Gloria was at a loss. “Where are you going?” she asked.
Mrs. Diller huffed. “My sister. She lives in Illinois. Her husband died last spring of the lung cancer.”
“So you’re moving out there?” Gloria couldn’t believe her luck, her bright, beautiful luck. All she’d needed to do is figure out what she really wanted, and everything fell magically into place.
“Like you don’t know,” Mrs. Diller sniffed, stuffing her hands into the dirty apron she wore over her shabby sweater. “Your big boyfriend thinks I’m a charity case. Threatening the impoverished is what I say it was. Buys my house and pays off my mortgages on the condition I leave town? That’s a threat. I have half a mind to stay to spite him.”
Aldo Moretta was her magic, her bright, beautiful luck. And Gloria wasn’t the least bit surprised. “Aldo bought your house.”
“Wasn’t much cash leftover,” Mrs. Diller said disdainfully. “Enough for a car that won’t rust out on me for a while, maybe a security deposit on a new place. Shoulda asked for more.”
“He had me follow you, you know,” Mrs. Diller called after her. “Glenn did.”
“I know,” Gloria said.
“I did it, and I’m not sorry. But I’m guessing I don’t owe him anything else anymore.” She looked down at the cigarette in her hand.
“I’m guessing you don’t. It’s a fresh start for us both.”
Mrs. Diller gave her a jerky nod. “Yeah, well. Reckon you should get off my property while it’s still mine ‘til tomorrow. And the restraining order and all.”
Gloria nodded. “Good luck, Mrs. Diller.”
The woman gave a tight nod and slammed the door.
Two Dillers down. One Moretta to go.
79
He wasn’t at his house or his office. It took Gloria a good ten minutes and a dozen cookies to pry it out of Mrs. Moretta, who was not happy that she’d broken her boy’s heart.
Gloria dragged the tiny wheels of her suitcase over the frozen ground cresting the hill. His truck was here. He had to be here somewhere. She was losing the daylight, tromping around a field lugging a bright purple bag. The handful of people here were looking at her, and she didn’t give a crap.
Because there, lying on the ground, saw in hand, was Aldo Moretta in jeans, a thermal shirt, and a vest, cutting down a Christmas tree.
The world came to a screeching halt as Gloria drank it in. This was love. And she was going to do everything in her power to hang on to it with both hands…and maybe her feet and teeth, too. Whatever it took to make it up to Aldo, to convince him that she was ready.
He was swearing a blue streak as the tree stubbornly refused to topple.
“Come on you motherfucking son of a bitch tree. You’re coming home with me so my fucking cat can destroy you.”
Gloria cleared her throat and set her suitcase neatly in front of her.
He turned his head, the tree choosing that moment to fall on him.
“Oh my God!” Gloria trotted forward, and together they pushed the tree off of him.
Carefully, Aldo climbed to his feet and brushed at the sap and needles that covered him. He glanced at her suitcase and back at her, expressionless. “Going somewhere?”
She nodded, and his face fell.
“I’m moving in,” she said quickly. “Well, I mean, if you’ll still have me, I’m moving in with you.” Lord, she was nervous. It wasn’t the cold that had her hands shaking. It was straight-up nerves. But she pressed on. “This is my literal and metaphorical baggage,” she explained pointing at the bag.
“You’re bringing me your baggage,” he said slowly, sliding his hands in the back pockets of his jeans.
Gloria nodded. “We all have baggage. Some of us have more of it than others. But you loved me before I freaked out, and now that I know exactly what my baggage is, I hope you can love me again. Or still.” Her voice broke, but she rallied.
Damn it. She was doing this and doing it right. Pride be damned.
