18. When You Know, You Know. Even When You Wish You Didn’t, Love Signals: An opposites-attract, forced proximity, only one bed, revenge romantic comedy (Love St

18. When You Know, You Know. Even When You Wish You Didn’t

Allie

Somehow I’ve managedto get some actual work done, which honestly is worthy of a Nobel Prize by itself, because the man of my dreams is in my kitchen right now cooking and being interrogated by everyone to whom I’m related. And from the sounds of things, they’re having a blast. They must have cracked that case of wine he brought because the amount of laughter wafting up the stairs is unprecedented, and to be honest, it’s making me a little jealous.

Also, the curiosity is killing me. Like seriously killing me. I want to know every word he’s saying and every inane question and comment my family is throwing his way. Well, maybe not every single one because the embarrassment factor would be incalculable. When Lucia brought up a sandwich for me earlier, the only tea she was willing to spill is that he’s so ‘crazy charming, he could lie to her all day long and she’d forgive him’ which I already knew, thank you very much.

Right after lunch, things went deadly quiet for about half an hour, which was the worst. Usually my dad clears out the kitchen when he makes his red sauce. He says it’s to keep the recipe a secret, but it’s really because he hates having anyone try to give him advice. The rest of the family rests for a while, some napping, some watching television, and some sitting out in the yard if the weather’s nice. But where was Hudson during that time? I am so hoping he was watching TV with my mom, and not stuck in the kitchen with my dad, who I’m guessing would’ve done his Goodfellas razor blade garlic thing while he gave him a cryptic ‘stay away from my daughter’ lecture.

Glancing at the clock, I see that it’s almost time for dinner. I tap away at my keyboard, trying to teach Frank how to ignore what we call cosmic microwave background radiation, which is basically the afterglow of the Big Bang. The trouble is, my mind keeps wandering back to that gorgeous hunk of a man every few seconds, which is so much worse than yesterday, when it was only wandering back to him every few minutes. The awful, horrible truth is that him showing up today has tipped me over from crushing hard to falling for him. Like honestly, the second I saw him in my kitchen holding that case of wine, I could feel my heart and soul just swell up with joy, which is just so, so bad because there’s really no possible scenario in which this ends well for me.

A knock at the door interrupts my not working and I call for whoever it is to come in, except instead of my usual bark of “Who is it?!” I opt for a soothing, friendly “Come in!”

When my mom opens the door, she says, “You can drop the act. It’s me.”

“Is supper ready?”

“Yes,” she answers. “That Hudson’s a very nice boy.”

I shut off my desk lamp and stand up. “Yeah, he’s not what I was expecting.”

“How so?”

“I don’t know. He’s a lot more down to earth than I thought he’d be.”

“Do you think he might have some Italian in him?” she asks, which is Mom for ‘you should marry him and make me some grandkids.’

“No idea,” I tell her, following her out of the room. “Say, where was he when dad was making the red sauce?”

She gives me a look that tells me exactly what happened.

“Noooo, seriously?” I ask, my face already hot with embarrassment even though I don’t know with one-hundred-percent certainty what happened.

Nodding, she says, “Yup.”

I let out a groan. “Did he give him the pepper and tomato paste talk?”

“Oh yeah, but don’t worry because I came in and put a stop to it.”

God, I hope so.

For some unknown reason, everything tastes amazing tonight, especially the wine Hudson brought. It’s a red from a region in the northwest part of Italy called Piedmont, and I can tell by how impressed the older generation is that it’s fancy schmancy. It’s going down so nicely, I’m getting a little tipsy, which I know I shouldn’t do since I have to go straight back to work when dinner’s over. Only, I’m a bundle of hormones and nerves right now, so maybe a few more sips won’t hurt.

Oops, that was more of a glug.

“Say, Hudson, do you want to see my science project after supper?” Matteo asks.

Hudson is just about to say yes when I cut him off. “No, you do not. It’s a trick.” Giving Matteo a hard look, I say, “A nasty one at that considering that Hudson just got out of the hospital two days ago because of … one of those things.”

Matteo snaps his little fingers together. “Nuts. You’re wrecking all my fun, Zia.”

Lucia sighs and gives her son a death glare. “We’re not going to have fun at Hudson’s expense. Especially since he saved Zia Allie’s life and spent the entire day helping us.”

Thank you, Lucia. For once, you’ve come through when I need you.

She turns to Hudson. “This wine is incredible, by the way.”

“Oh, I’m glad you like it. The man at the store said it was Italy’s best red.”

“He was right,” she answers, lifting the glass while giving him a smile that definitely means she’s thinking about cashing in her one free celebrity bang card.

Vinnie glares at him. “So, Hudson? You ever do any MMA fighting?”

Oh crap, Vinnie clearly hasn’t forgotten about the list.

“Uh, no, can’t say I have. You?”

“Yeah, I’m big into MMA,” Vinnie says, scowling at him. “I could’ve gone pro, but then Matteo came along. It’s not the best life for a family.”

Hudson narrows his eyes, looking very confused. “That is quite the accomplishment.”

“It’s important to be able to defend your family,” Vinnie says. “Because family is the only thing that matters in this life.” He points to Lucia. “This woman here? My wife? I would kill for her.”

“Well, hopefully it never comes to that,” Hudson answers.

“Let’s hope not,” Vinnie says pointedly.

Can this be over please?

“More lamb, Hudson?” my mom asks, lifting the platter.

“Oh, I’m stuffed, thank you though.”

She smiles at him. “Where are your parents from?”

Perfect. We’ve now reached the part of the evening when they try to find out how Italian he is.

“Nebraska, but I grew up in New York.”

“Okay, but where are their parents from?” Grandma asks.

“Nebraska.”

“And their parents?” Zia Fernanda adds.

I sigh, then interject with, “They’re trying to figure out if you have any Italian in you.”

“Oh,” he says, looking amused. “No, I’m afraid not. Irish on my mom’s side and English on my dad’s.”

Shoulders drop around the table, but Zia’s eyes light up. “But have you had one of those DNA tests done because a lot of people find out they’re not from where they thought.”

“Yeah, my brother and I bought those kits for my parents for Christmas one year, so I’m pretty sure we’re not Italian.”

The room goes silent for a minute, other than the sounds of knives and forks brushing up against the china, and I can tell Hudson’s feeling a little awkward. I take another sip of wine, then say, “You don’t have to be Italian. You’re amazing just the way you are.”

“She’s right,” Lucia says, running her fingers along her gold necklace. “Just the way you are.”

A glance at Vinnie tells me he’s about to lose it. Hudson seems to pick up on it too because he clears his throat and says, “This might be the most delicious meal I’ve ever had.”

My mom blushes. “Nah, you’re flattering us. You must have eaten at some of the world’s best restaurants.”

“I have, and believe me, none of them have anything on this dinner. The fresh pasta? The red sauce? The lamb? You could open your own restaurant. Michelin star all the way.”

Good God, that charm is lethal. I’m pretty sure at this point, there isn’t an adult in this room who wouldn’t go home with him—the men included.

“So, Hudson, do you have any special plans while you’re in the area?” Zia asks.

He pats his mouth with his napkin. “Umm, well, other than trying to learn as much as I can about what Allie does, my publicity team has set up a few things for me. They want me to go to the museum, and to be seen at the library, and they bought me tickets for the opera.”

“Why would they do that?” my mom says.

“They want to change my image. Apparently smart is the new cool,” he answers with an easy smile that I can tell is hiding how he really feels. “Not sure who’s going to buy me as a smart guy, but according to my team, we’re going to be able to pull it off.”

“I love your image,” Lucia says. “You’re a big star. Can’t you just say no?”

He shakes his head and picks up his wine glass. “The funny thing about Hollywood is that once you reach a certain level, you pretty much have to sell your soul to stay there.”

“What do you mean?” Vinnie asks. “Like gigolo stuff?”

“No, not gigolo stuff,” I answer for Hudson, giving Vinnie a disgusted look. “Like, pretending he likes science and posting on Instagram. Going to the opera, things like that.”

“I love the opera. Which one?” Lucia asks, even though she’s never been to the opera in her life.

“Don Giovanni.”

“Oh, that’s Italian,” Zia says.

“It’s not Italian,” my dad tells her. “It’s a Spanish story and the music was written by Mozart who was Austrian.”

“I guarantee you Mozart was a little bit Italian,” Vinnie says. Turning to Matteo, he says, “Do you know how close Austria is to Italy?”

Matteo shakes his head.

“It’s right frigging there,” he answers. “At the very top of the boot.”

My dad gives Hudson a meaningful look. “Do you know what it’s about?”

“Don Giovanni?”

Dad nods at him to which Hudson says, “Not really, no.”

“Don Juan. You ever hear someone call a man a real Don Juan?”

More wine. More sips of wine. Yes, that’s making this moment so much better because I’m now comfortably detached from it.

“I haven’t, Nonno,” Camilla says. “What does that mean?”

My dad offers her a sweet smile. “Well, my bambolotta, Don Juan was the type of man who liked to sprinkle pepper on every dish he saw.”

“But some food doesn’t taste good with pepper!” she says. “Like ice cream.”

“Exactly,” he says, pointing a finger at her. “See? This little child gets it. Pepper doesn’t belong on everything.”

“Oh Jesus,” I mutter.

My mom clears her throat, and I’m momentarily grateful that she’s stepping in to save things, until she comes out with this little gem: “You should take Allegra to the opera with you. She’s never gone.”

Oh fuck. Seriously, Ma? I scramble to think of a graceful exit, but the only thing I come up with is sliding under the table, which is neither graceful nor helpful. “Oh no, I’m sure Hudson has someone to go with him. Like … Margot Robbie or Jennifer Lawrence.”

Hudson gives me an amused look. “They’re both married, and I actually don’t have anyone to go with.”

“You don’t?” I ask, shocked that this demi-god doesn’t have a date.

“Nope. You’re really the only person I know in town.”

I grin at him, and I’m pretty sure it’s a sloppy one at that, based on how numb my face is at the moment. “Well, you know Chad.”

He chuckles. “True. I do know Chad.”

“You can’t take Chad to the opera,” Grandma says. “He’s a total schmuck. You have to take our Allegra. She can wear one of my gowns.”

Oh God, no. She’s putting him on the spot, and I seriously cannot be rejected in front of my entire family. Vinnie will never stop bringing it up. I’m about to shake my head and let him off the hook, but the smile on Hudson’s face as he gazes at me causes my mind to go completely blank. Damn vino.

“I’d love it if you’d go with me, Allie. That is, if you’re not too busy.”

“Um, well, I am, but?—”

“Her answer is yes,” Zia tells him. “She can definitely take the night off to go with you.” She turns to me. “Grandma has the most beautiful gowns from when they still lived in the old country and you’ll definitely fit into them. I’ll do your hair. You’ll look like a princess.”

“Pfft, a princess,” I slur. “I don’t think so.”

“I think you will,” Hudson says, his face serious.

Oh my God, he does? What I wouldn’t give for him to lay a huge kiss on me right this moment.

My Nonno pipes in with, “She is a princess, every day. Just look at that beautiful face. Molto bella.”

“Aww, thanks, Nonno.”

“So, it’s settled then,” my mom says. “Allegra will go to the opera with you. You have a date.”

My father looks like his head is about to pop off his neck. “But you better pay close attention to what happens to Don Giovanni because you wouldn’t want to suffer the same fate.”

“Enzo, he’s not going to get killed by a ghost,” Ma says.

“Uh-oh, spoiler alert,” I mutter to Hudson, who stifles a laugh.

“Don’t worry, sir,” he tells my dad. “I promise to keep my hands to myself and to bring your daughter straight home when the opera ends.”

“We’re all aware that I’m thirty-five, not fifteen, right?” I ask.

“Well, that was quite the day,” Hudson says. We’re outside the house, both our arms loaded with containers of leftovers and bread from the bakery that my mom and Grandma insisted he take home on account of him being a man, and therefore incapable of feeding himself.

“Yeah, sorry about my family,” I tell him, swaying a little as we reach his SUV. “To be fair, I did try to warn you.”

“You did. You really did,” he answers with a sideways grin. “Say, that whole thing your dad does with the garlic and the razor blade. Is that?—”

”From Goodfellas? Yeah, he thinks it’s intimidating.”

”Oh, it is.” Hudson opens the passenger door, then steps aside to let me set my things down first. “But less intimidating than him brandishing that massive knife while he talks about his daughter’s heart getting broken.”

I scrunch up my face. “Oh God, it’s all just so embarrassing, I want to crawl under a rock.”

“Why?” he asks, unloading his arms.

“Because you’re obviously not interested in me, which is good because we’re colleagues, sort of, in a strange way, and here he is accusing you of…” I trail off, unable to finish my sentence even though I’m half-cut right now.

“Wanting to pepper your dish?”

He is so gorgeous. Wow. “Yeah, that.”

“Don’t worry about it. He’s just looking out for you, which I can appreciate.”

“Is that the kind of dad you’d be? Overly protective to the point of insanity?”

He chuckles, then says, “If I had a daughter, I’m afraid I wouldn’t be too far off. In fact, I’m already unreasonably mad about my hypothetical daughter getting hit on.”

Lord, he’s cute. I can’t even take how cute he is. Am I just gazing up at him with a stupid grin on my face? I should stop that. ”Listen, about that whole silliness with you taking me to the opera…” Please take me to the opera. ”Definitely don”t feel like you need to take me. I”m sure by the time it rolls around you”ll have met somebody more suitable.”

He scrunches up his face in confusion. ”What is that supposed to mean? More suitable.”

”I don”t know … like someone more in your league. A supermodel, or maybe a Swedish Olympic ski champion.”

”That guy really did a number on you, didn’t he?” he says, his eyes hardening.

”What guy?”

”Lando. When your dad was giving me the pepper versus tomato paste lecture, he filled me in on the details,” he says. “He’s the guy who would wash his penis in the sink, isn’t he?”

Even though I”m, well, let”s face it, drunk, my stomach tightens. I roll my eyes anyway and say, ”That’s the one. I know my parents think he broke my heart, but he didn”t mean that much to me. Honestly, I was far more upset about him taking credit for my work than I was about all the philandering and the dumping.”

”Really?”

No, not really. He shattered my heart into tiny dust particles. ”Seriously, I completely forgot about it.”

“No, you didn”t,” he says, and I swear to God, his eyes are peering directly into my soul.

”How do you know?”

”Because you’ve completely given up on love, which is a crime.” His eyes flick down to my lips. ”Your nonno was right about you. You”re very beautiful. And you”re smart and you’re fun, and any guy would be lucky to be with you.”

But not him. He doesn”t mean him, no matter how much I wish he did.

We stare at each other for a moment, and I feel my heart pounding a little harder than it should be for someone standing still. “Do you want to hear something crazy?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“Lando is on one of the teams I’m competing against. To create the first viable AI system for SETI.”

“Are you serious?” he asks.

I nod. “Yup.”

“Oh my God, in that case, you need to get Frank working. Like, right now.”

I chuckle a little, my heart swelling that he gets what it means to me, and we stare at each other for a deliciously long, intense moment. Kiss me. Kiss me right here, right now. I don’t even care that my entire family is watching from the living room window. I know I should. But I don’t.

But he doesn’t kiss me. He clears his throat instead. “I better let you go get back to work.”

“Yes, I should totally do that. Thank you so much for saving me today.”

“Did you get a lot done?”

Nodding, I say, “I really did.”

“Then it was all worth it because for the rest of my life, I’ll know I was a part of something so much bigger than anything else I’ll do with my life.”

My cheeks heat up at the thought of Hudson Finch—a famous actor with the big, shiny career—thinking what I do is important.

He points to the food. “Plus, I’m going to eat like a king for at least a week.”

“At least.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” he says.

“Yes, you will,” I answer, my voice all soft and silky. Kiss me … now.

He glances at the house and waves. “That sure is your entire family, just standing there watching us.”

I look over and give them a ‘get lost’ face, but let’s face it, they’re not going to honor my wishes. “Yes, there they are.”

He holds out his hand. “Good night, Allegra. I hope you get some sleep.”

I shake his hand. It’s warm and big and manly and I don’t want to let go but I know I have to. “Good night, Hudson. Thank you again. For everything.”

“Anytime.”

He lets go of my hand and walks around to the driver’s side of his vehicle. Giving me a salute, he says, “Until tomorrow, Dr. Cammareri.”

“Until tomorrow, Mr. Finch.”

I spin on my heel and make my way up the sidewalk, knowing that standing there gawking at him while he pulls away would be nothing short of humiliating. It’s what I want to do, but luckily, there’s a tiny bit of my brain that’s still sober and knows better. Just like she knew not to grab him by the front of his shirt and plant the mother of all kisses on him.

I kind of hate that bitch right now, but I’ll be thanking her later.

Maybe.

Email from: [email protected]

To: [email protected], [email protected]

Subject: Black Creek Trip

Allegra,

I’ve arranged to have you and Hudson go up to Black Creek for a day on Thursday the 23rd. This will give Glen and his staff a day to go into Redding to shop for supplies. I told him you’ll be there by 10 a.m., which means leaving before 5 to get there in time. I trust that won’t be a problem for you or for Hudson.

This will be his one chance to gain an understanding of the mechanics and engineering of the radio telescopes.

Please make sure you pack an overnight bag, as the weather can be unpredictable this time of year in the mountains.

Regards,

Keenan

Email from: [email protected]

To: [email protected], [email protected]

Subject: Re: Black Creek Trip

Hi Keenan,

Sounds great. I’ll arrange the transportation and meals.

Warmest regards,

Allie

Email from: [email protected]