Chapter 12 #2
Angelo picked up the bag and had me follow him up the stairs into the kitchen, dropping it carefully onto the marble island.
I went for two glasses of water in the fridge and when I came back, there was a display of walnut woodwork on the table in what looked like stacked shelves.
Some of the pieces were tied together intricately with knots of soft rope.
There were hanging clasps, and metal hinges, a very clear pattern to the chaos he was showing me.
"I don't want you to freak out or anything, but I made this for you. For your plants." Angelo rubbed a hand down the back of his neck nervously, swaying from one heel to the other.
I didn't know what to say, what exactly was swirling in my gut. My chest tightened, but I was still acutely aware of the muscles in my face that were relaxed, happy.
"For my plants?" I asked.
"I would need to install it," he said, picking up the shelves carefully and taking each piece one by one to the lonely set of windows in my living room.
"The idea is that you can use this like a lazy Susan, but hanging.
There's layers that can stack against the window, but each one pulls in and out.
More room for plants, and you can meet their individual needs for sunlight.
" He jingled a hanging chain on the underside of a wood panel.
"This is a water catch, so if you put a bowl here for something like a pothos, you won't have to worry about the runoff dripping down and damaging the floor.
The rope is functional for up to a hundred pounds, but also aesthetically pleasing.
Selfishly, I thought it fit the vibe you have going on in your place. "
Angelo lowered the shelves, folding them back into a travel size the best he could.
I was speechless.
He had made this for me. With his own two hands, and it wasn't a thing he could have possibly done in a day. This was planned. It was time, energy, a fucking labor of…something. It was a gesture far more intense and meaningful than I'd ever given him a reason for. More than I deserved.
There was quiet contemplation, and Angelo leaned against the table watching me process it.
"Say something, Mia."
I took a short breath. "What are we doing, Angelo?"
His eyebrows knitted together. "What are you talking about?"
"I mean this." I pointed at the shelves. "This is…it's not friendly. It's more than that. There's feelings involved. Real, actual, punch-in-the-gut feelings."
"Yeah, I thought that was obvious. To me it was, at least."
"We can't have feelings for each other," I jabbed. "You can't build me things, and kiss me like you do, and make me want more than I'm allowed to have."
Angelo's fists clenched then softened at the edge of the table. "Why the fuck not, Mia? Would it really be the end of the world to admit to yourself that we might be damn good together?"
"But it doesn't matter."
"Stop harping on what everyone on the outside might think about us," he said plainly. "Do what you want to do. Do something for yourself because you want to, not because you're expected to."
I laughed coldly. "What if it blows up in our faces?”
"What if it doesn't? I wouldn't be here right now if both of us didn't think it was worth a shot.
It's a risk, you're right. I'm not born rich.
I'm not a lawyer, or a doctor, or some fucking investment banker with girlfriends on business trips while you wait for me back home. What you see is what you get."
"You have it all figured out again." I swallowed hard to clear the emotion stuck at the base of my throat.
He was right. He was right, he was always right, and he never sugarcoated it.
He wouldn't let me out easily and I should have known that.
I didn't want him to. I loved the fight, the sureness.
"My parents will lose their minds if another daughter brings home a Duran, you understand that, right?
They're still recovering from Mateo. My alcoholic father will relapse. "
Angelo roped me in closer to him, lacing our fingers together. His eyes were dark, but determined. He pulled in a deep breath and let it go. "There you go worrying about other people again, Mia. Fighting it."
I bowed my head with an amused sigh. His thumb traced circles over the back of my hand. "It's not that easy for me to break a habit."
Angelo dragged his hand down his mouth and chin.
"Well, imagine something for me. Picture us, without the secrets, or the sneaking around.
Being able to go out to dinner together, experience things, make memories, actually date.
If it doesn't look right to you, if you can't see it, you don't believe in it, then fine.
" His lips thinned. "After this week, house or not, we can call it.
Never mention it again, never tell a soul what happened here. "
I hated that option more than I'd ever hated Angelo. He tugged me forward, dropping onto a kitchen stool, me between his open legs, in too vulnerable a position for this conversation.
"We can pretend at family gatherings that I haven't been inside you," he murmured. "That I don't know what you taste like, and you haven't been on your knees in front of me begging for it." He ran his finger across my chin and I swatted it languidly. My lip trembled anyway.
"I don't know if I can do that," I admitted quietly.
"I sure as hell can't," he agreed. "I'm ready for whatever this is, Mia.
I want to fight for it. I want to earn it.
I'm here now. I'm not going back to New York, I'm not going to disappear from your life one day, and I'm not going to sit aside while you bring a Scott or a Brad or Chad home for the holidays just to save everyone else's fucking feelings. I won't let you."
I wouldn't let myself. There would be no comparison.
I'd likely spend a lifetime looking for another Angelo and that person would never come.
Then I'd truly lose myself to my job. Maybe adopt a few cats, volunteer more, embrace celibacy, start a club for objectophiles in a relationship with their vibrators. That future was glum.
Angelo was waiting for me to come to this conclusion verbally. He had a worry line etched between his eyes, his hands, clammy and persistent, holding me by the waist. I had his heart in my palms, and he was bleeding all over me.
My phone started ringing on the table, and we both looked toward it. I normally didn't save numbers, unless I knew I had a high likelihood of dealing with the person again, or needing it as a connection. However, I had saved Tommy's after the saga of getting a hold of him for Valley Green.
"I should probably take this," I told Angelo, eagerly. He let me wiggle away, and I swiped my phone off the table and walked into the far part of the living room before answering it.
"Tommy," I said brightly. "Is this good news?"
Crunching gravel and a tired engine whined in the background. "I'm calling to let you know we've decided to move forward with your client, Mr. Duran. We’re accepting the offer for 11 Valley Green with the contingencies."
I smiled hard, pinching my eyes closed and pumping my fist in a silent celebration.
"Excellent." I looked over my shoulder at Angelo at the kitchen table.
He had a cool stare, tension in his neck, his long leg bouncing.
"You get that to me in writing in the morning, and I'll start moving the pieces on my end.
I expect there's not going to be too many hiccups on a property like this one, considering its… emptiness."
"You get someone out here for an inspection, and I don't see any reason we can't close by the new year."
"Thank you, Tommy," I sang. "We'll be in touch."
The call dropped and I stuck my phone in my pocket, turning on a heel and skipping back in Angelo's direction. He sat up straighter, still tense, confusion overwhelming the initial worry. I could see everything while he wore his heart on his sleeve.
I sympathized with him. It couldn't be easy sitting where he was in this moment. Hanging off the edge of his seat about his woman and his house, staring directly at the only person who had answers. I chose not to torture him anymore about either.
"You got it." I grinned, so wide and cheesy my cheeks hurt. "That was Tommy. He called to let me know your offer got accepted on 11 Valley Green."
Angelo's eyes widened, glistening. A sound of relief got caught in his throat and he stood, lifting me right off the kitchen floor into his arms, spinning me around wistfully. "Fuck, really?"
"Congratulations." My smile tapered into a fit of laughter as he spun me again. "We still have a lot more work to do," I added. "But I'm pretty damn good at my job."
He let out a hoot of excitement, placed me back on the floor, but cradled my cheek in his palm. Our foreheads dipped to press against each other. "Thank you, Mia. This was you."
"Technically, you found it. I was just a necessary tool."
"No, it was all you. You agreed to help me. You showed up, and kept showing up even when I left you with a busted taillight and in the middle of a street to catch an Uber. You stayed the course. I owe this to you."
My fingers ran down his jaw and over his bottom lip. "I wasn't exactly running away."
If this was wrong, what I was feeling—the elation, my heart doing flips, butterflies in my chest, hope for the first time looking at my future—then I wanted to keep being wrong.
"About before," I whispered. "I want to make us work, too. I think we’re worth the mess."
Angelo's lips crashed down onto mine, like sealing a promise.
"But, I do also think that we should probably start small," I said breathlessly once we came up for air. "Maybe tell Mateo and Nat, and test the waters before diving in on the whole family."
"We can do that," he agreed, brushing strands of fallen hair in my face behind my ears. "Whatever pace you need. I want you to know that I'm not asking you to say that you love me, Mia."
I lifted my eyes to his. He was so serious, so warm, honey sweet. Everything felt secure.
"I'm just asking you to give yourself the chance to," he added.
Pressing onto my toes, I kissed him softly again. "I can do that."
Hope. That really was the perfect word for it.