Chapter 19 Naomi
Time freezes as I stare at the man on the screen. There’s definitely something familiar about him. I don’t recall ever seeing him, but he reminds me of my mother. She had the same ‘look’ in her pictures—fair, almost ethereal. I can see them both cast as graceful elves in a fantasy movie.
“I…I thought my mother was an only child,” I finally say, breaking the silence.
It dawns that Declan Reeves allowed me the time to gather my thoughts. There’s an aura of benevolent patience about him, the little smile on his thin lips soothing and heart-warming. It makes me think, if he were physically here, he would smile more and open his arms, and I’d gladly snuggle into his hug. He emanates warmth and comfort, a feeling of safety.
My words, which I now realize must have come across as sharp and snippy, barely make him frown.
“She was,” he answers. “For her mother. We had the same father.”
“Yet, I’ve never heard about you,” I say softly.
He nods softly. “We didn’t have a chance to properly meet before.”
Something in the way he says this makes me frown. What does he mean? I can’t help but read that there’s something momentous about now, and I don’t mean just this moment in this apartment.
“Anya works for you?” I cut a glance at the woman in question, who gives me a soft nod, before I return my gaze to the screen.
“She does.” Still the same quiet assurance in his demeanor.
And she got me out from my house, was protecting me from Thad, brought me here… I gulp and squirm in my seat. When a large, warm hand lands on my back, I jump a little.
“Easy,” Valentino soothes next to me.
How is it I’d forgotten he is there with me? He’s my rock, my anchor, but strangely, it’s like he doesn’t fit in the picture right now. This doesn’t concern him, in a way. Why I feel this way, I have no idea, and it throws me off. I need Valentino with me. He’s been my only constant in this recent storm since my father decided to pursue his political ambitions.
“I…”
My voice falters. Val is peering at me strangely, as is Anya. I reckon they must both be worried for me, and I gulp down hard. This—whatever this is—is something I have to do alone. It’s a moment that will prove my mettle.
What the hell does this even mean, Naomi?
Goodness, what’s happening to me? Suddenly, there are so many questions inside me. They’re overwhelming, drowning me, suffocating me.
I glance once more at the two people in the room with me, then at my uncle.
It’s funny to think I have a relative. It’s always been me and my dad for as long as I can remember. Declan Reeves seems like he cares for me, so I’m not alone in the world. After what Anya said about my father not bothering with what happened with Thad in the house, something in me shriveled and died a slow, painful death. I can count on Valentino, I know this, but it’s not the same.
When the Italians say sangre is everything, I get what they mean now. This man on the screen is my blood. We’re part of the same thing, me and him. Same family, same bloodline, same lineage. An unbreakable bond. It might’ve taken me twenty-three years to find him, but it’s happened.
“Can I please take this in the other room?” I ask both Valentino and Anya. It’s her device; it’s courtesy with him.
The frown on his face hurts my heart, yet I know I have to do this. This is my journey, my hurdle, my coming home when I felt I’d lost my grip on what home means.
When he nods, I breathe out a small sigh of relief and give him a wobbly smile. I’m comforted when he picks up my hand and drops a soft kiss on my palm. Anya gives me a chin nod toward the bedroom, and I get up, taking the laptop with me.
I close the sliding doors once in, then sit carefully on the bed, the laptop perched on my knees. Pretty sure the panels are paper-thin, but it’s the fact I’ve taken the step to assert my autonomy in this moment that’s the true issue here.
“It’s a shock, I know,” Declan says.
I jump slightly, which makes the computer wobble, and steady it with my hand.
“How come I didn’t know about you?” I ask.
How come you weren’t there for me all this time is what I really want to ask. I’ve never been the confrontational type, so the real questions bounce around in my head not really looking for an outlet.
Declan smiles softly, and it looks a tad pained. “My dad got his mistress pregnant when I was six. Ensued a messy divorce with my mother, where he bought custody of me, then he shipped me off to boarding school the next year as he married her, and Aoife was born. It wasn’t her fault, though, Aoife. She was such a sweet kid. I loved her, loved spending time with her whenever I was forced to come home for the holidays.” He pauses and sighs. “I got out from under his thumb at eighteen.”
And didn’t look back. I can hear the unspoken words.
“My mother was eleven then.”
He nods. “We called each other a few times, but it wasn’t enough.”
I gulp. “She met my father.”
His face hardens. “I didn’t know about it until she turned eighteen and I was invited to the wedding. My father and I didn’t speak much.”
I bite my lip as a question pops up. I can’t throw this out, can I?
“She was happy?”
Turns out I can bypass the filter to my mouth. Who knew?
Declan stays silent for so long, the dread in my stomach grows into a dark monster with sharp claw shredding my insides.
“How much do you know?” he finally asks.
Anything else, and I wouldn’t have had confirmation Valentino told me the truth.
“He raped her?” I ask softly.
“It’s what we believe. She was so far gone for him, though.”
“And you’re sure it wasn’t love?”
His raised eyebrows ask the question silently. I definitely am an idiot for thinking that.
“You knew about me?” I ask. No idea where this came from, nor why I switched topics like that.
“Knew of you, yes. Aoife went to live in New Jersey with him, and you were born five years later. Another five years on, and she was…gone.”
“How come you never reached out?”
Guess that filter was taking a beating today. He just confirmed he knew pretty much what happened with my mother and me, yet there’s no mention of them in our lives.
“You think we didn’t?”
His question slams a fist complete with brass knuckles into my gut.
“You did?” I blurt out.
“You might’ve been too young to remember, but did your mother like to hang out in the kitchen? With the cook in New Jersey? Or the housekeeper in the Hamptons?”
With the prompt comes the sudden flash of being held on a warm, slightly squishy lap, squirming while delicate hands held me. I can hear a tinkling laugh, and there’s the smell of fresh-baked cookies.
I gasp. Did I just remember my mother, her laughter, the hold of her arms?
“You do remember,” Declan says with a smile in his voice.
I blink to stare at him. “We didn’t have staff when I was growing up.”
“That’s true. After Aoife passed, your father closed off the world around you.”
And we couldn’t get our people in anymore.
Until now. With Anya.
My mother’s family never abandoned me. A sudden lightness bursts in my chest, and I gasp out a laugh as tears prick my eyes. I have people I can count on.
I laugh-cry some more, then sober up. “Sorry for that.”
Declan shakes his head. “I wish we could’ve been meeting face-to-face.”
I glance around the room, and it clicks. “This is your place.”
He smiles. “It’s yours, actually.”
“What?” I sputter.
“When my father died, whatever Aoife would’ve inherited, I put it aside.”
“For me?”
“Of course.”
He didn’t shrug, but I swear I caught it from him. Like, what else did you expect?
“That’s…a lot to take in,” I venture to say.
He nods. “I know. But you have a safe space here.”
Literally and figuratively. This apartment. And also, with him.
I heave in a deep inhale then sigh loudly. “What, now?”
“Whatever you want.”
“That simple, huh?”
This time, he does shrug. It makes me smile, seeing him so human in this soft move of his lean shoulders.
“Thank you,” I say.
“For all this? You don’t owe me any thanks, Naomi.”
I shake my head. “For gifting me a memory of my mom.”
His eyes go soft, the smile wistful. “You look so much like her.”
I don’t think he could’ve said anything to warm my heart more.
“We’ll meet again?” I ask.
“Yes.”
Just one word, holding all the certainty in the world.
“Goodbye, Naomi. Be safe.”
“Goodbye, Uncle Declan.”
I catch him smiling before the call cuts. The silence blanketing the room is deafening. There’s a roar in my ears, and it seems to be coming from my heart. It’s in my blood, flowing all through me. I’m not alone anymore. I have somebody else in my corner. My world lost its axis the day Valentino told me the truth about my father and how he pursued my mother, but the wrongs are being righted, slowly but surely. I just have to hold on for long enough.
Slowly, I come back to my senses. I can hear soft mutterings in the next room, where Valentino and Anya still are. I pick up the laptop and stand up, make my way to the door which I slide open.
Two pairs of worried eyes land on me when I stop in the doorway. I wordlessly hand the computer to Anya, who picks it up from my extended hand. I then open my arms and step towards Valentino. He wastes no time wrapping me in his embrace. When he drops a soft kiss on my head, I burrow into him some more and let out a sigh.
“I have an uncle,” I say, then giggle.
The rumble of his laughter resonates in his chest and against my cheek.
“So, you do,” he replies with a chuckle.
“This place is mine, apparently.”
He pulls away and stares down at me. “What?”
I laugh. “I had the same reaction.”
We can stay here…
This is our bubble, our pad away from all the turmoil brewing around us. My father and his damn political campaign; Valentino and his Borgata. We could nest here and just be us, Val and Naomi, happy, carefree, and more importantly, free.
But that’s not reality. A pang hits my chest, and I gulp softly.
“We can meet here,” I say in a murmur.
Valentino frowns as he stares at me with narrowed eyes. Did he feel the sudden change in the air? The moment I came to the realization what we have is a fantasy just short of a fallacy, and we can’t sustain it?
Yet, nobody’s promised forever. What if we took what we got? Stolen moments they may be, but they’re ours.
“We can,” he says quietly.
His words break the tenuous thread struggling to find purchase between us, at the same time it binds a cord of hope in the space. Ill-fated, surely. Still, it’s hope.
A glance out the window shows how dark the night is. It’s late, and we can’t stay here forever.
“I have to go home,” I mumble.
Valentino nods. “Me, too.”
We reach for each other at the same time, falling into a tight embrace as our lips seek the other’s and we kiss like it’s our last time together.
As I pull away, I’m reluctant to leave his arms. My hand trails to his cheek, which I clasp in my palm.
I don’t know why it feels like this is the last time I will see Valentino Andretti…
Not if I can help it, though. He’s my anchor, my rock, my safe spot. I’ll find a way back to him, always.
I drop a final, chaste kiss on his lips then turn to Anya.
“Let’s go,” I tell her.
I don’t look at Valentino again as I leave. He doesn’t call me back, either.
What that means, I have no idea. I refuse to contemplate more as a tear slips down my cheek in the elevator taking us back down to the real world.