Chapter 3
Sydney
The thunderous voice at my back has nothing on the rage brewing inside me at his words.
My wife?
Who the hell does he think he is?
My spine stiffens, and I slowly stand and pivot to face Matteo. While I’m infuriated, I can’t help taking him in. He’s wearing a dark gray suit and black dress shirt, the top two buttons undone to reveal familiar ink.
“Look, psycho. Not sure if you recall, but we’re divorced. It’s probably lost on you that I’m no longer your wife since I meant so little that you packed up and left without a word. But then again, you sent the divorce papers, so…”
A throat clearing redirects my attention back to my date. Gah. This is mortifying.
Matteo bends down to my eye level, hands tucked in his suit pants. “Let’s be clear, carissima. ( dearest ) Neither of us has forgotten one single thing about the other.”
“Jesus,” I hear Sam mutter behind me. “Every damn time. I can sure pick ’em.”
Looking back at him, I tilt my head, giving him a questioning glance.
Head lowered, he mumbles to himself, “Sebastian will never let me live this one down.”
“Two years and this is the best you can do?” Matteo sneers, lifting his chin in Sam’s direction. A sarcastic chuckle escapes, and it’s all I can do not to punch him in his junk.
“One, don’t pretend to know a thing about me. Two, the only thing a man would need to be an improvement over you is a pulse.” I practically spit in his direction.
“Don’t kid yourself, Principessa. ( Princess ) There’s only one man alive that can give you what you need.”
“I’ll pass,” I respond in as flat a tone as possible, crossing my arms over my chest. Turning away from my ex-husband, I find Sam dropping a wad of cash on the table. Oh hell. What did I think was going to happen?
“It was nice meeting you, Sydney. Sorry—”
A firm tattooed arm snakes around my waist as Matteo interrupts, “But he has to be leaving.”
Digging my nails into his skin, I pull Matteo off of me as I notice my date scurrying out of the restaurant. Geez, he doesn’t even stop to chat up the leggy redhead still vying for his attention from the bar. I can’t help but let out a huff at how this night has turned out. “Thanks for that. You can leave now.”
“You’re welcome. I was saving you from yourself. You would’ve regretted it in the morning.”
A cynical laugh rumbles from my chest. “Trust me, there’s only one man I regret.”
“Liar,” he growls.
His words are so deep and menacing, they’d scare me if I hadn’t instantly become aroused. What the hell is wrong with me?
“But watching you get all riled up is turning me on, cara mio.” ( my dear ) Ugh. Our chemistry has always been like this. But there’s no way in hell I’m letting on that I feel anything for him but disgust. Because you shouldn’t, dammit.
My eyes narrow as I place my balled fists on my hips.
What is happening here? With the exception of his lawyer, I haven’t heard from this man in two years. And he picks this moment to want to reconnect?
I bend down to gather my things, praying that Sam dropped enough cash to cover the bill. Because I need to get the hell away from this man before I end up on the news for attempting to strangle the asshat with my bare hands. “Listen, you lunatic. I’m not sure why you suddenly want to chat about my feelings. You couldn’t have cared less when it really mattered. But I’m over you. Just because you scared off one date, you can’t run them all off.”
I can feel Matteo’s warm breath dance over the shell of my ear like rolling thunder on a humid day. “Watch me.”
“No. You watch me!” I belt out, not even caring that prying eyes are observing this showdown occur in one of the nicest restaurants in town. “Keep it up. I’ll find my dates on Tinder and skip going to a restaurant. Will just invite them home.” I stress the word home, hoping he’ll be able to picture them where he used to spend his nights with me.
Our home.
Matteo’s face turns red, his jaw clenched so tight a molar could crack.
Tucking my purse under my arm, I nudge him as I storm past. “Goodbye, asshole.”
Thirty minutes later, once I’ve reached the house, I slam the front door and collapse onto my couch. Dropping my head in my hands, I let out a frustrated exhale. This night has been a total disaster. Sure, I wasn’t excited about going out. Honestly, I never enjoyed dating until I met Matteo. Heck, that was an added benefit to getting married. Never having to date again.
Then I finally pull the trigger, putting myself back out there, only to have the entire night blow up in my face. Meeting Sam wasn’t terrible. He was cute. Endearing. For a first date, he could’ve been worse. Sure, his overtly charismatic behavior with practically every woman in the restaurant was a little off-putting. Then there was the cryptic way he said he needed to settle down. Not that he wanted to.
Then in struts Matteo. The man who’s haunted my dreams since the day he left. He completely ripped my heart out when he walked out and filed for divorce without explanation. We went from blissfully happy to over in the blink of an eye. So, what was with his declaration?
Get your fucking hand off my wife!
Standing, I head to the kitchen to pour a much needed glass of wine as I hear my phone buzz in my purse.
10:50 p.m.
Genni: Since I haven’t heard from you, I’m going to take this as a good sign. That the night went better than either one of us imagined.
10:52 p.m.
Sydney: Yeah, not even close.
10:53 p.m.
Genni: What happened?
10:55 p.m.
Sydney: No way there’s enough battery life in my phone to describe that.
10:56 p.m.
Genni: Do you want me to come over?
10:57 p.m.
Sydney: No. It’s late, and I just want to drown my sorrows and crawl into bed.
10:59 p.m.
Genni: Then give me all the deets over breakfast! Get a good night’s sleep and I’ll meet you at Baker’s Crust at 9:00.
Ha, a good night’s sleep. That’s not happening.
11:00 p.m.
Sydney: Fine. I’ll see you in the morning.
Opening the doors to Baker’s Crust, the scent of freshly brewed coffee and sugary crepes fills the air. Any other day I’d be thrilled, salivating at the thought of digging in to the luxurious food. But my appetite is as sour as my mood.
Looking around, I see Genevieve, Carol Ann, and Pepper in a booth before I even reach the hostess station. Apparently, Genni has alerted the cavalry. “Hi, I see my tablemates are already here,” my voice feels brittle after the long restless night and more than a few tears.
The hostess follows the direction of my gaze and nods as I walk in their direction, steeling myself not to crumble under the weight of my warring emotions.
Spotting me mid-conversation, Carol Ann and Genni hop up from their seats to greet me, and I watch both of their joyful faces fall. Yeah, there’s no disguising the way I feel.
“Lord Hammercy,” Carol Ann belts out before pulling me into her tight embrace. “Who in the John Brown do I need to beat up for this?”
God, do I look that bad? I slide into the booth, Genni scooting in beside me before grabbing my hand. “Oh, sweetie. I didn’t realize it was that bad. I’d ask if he stood you up, but you could’a spilled that tea last night without a lot of drama. This is something else altogether.”
“Was he a dick? I might be short, but it just gets me closer to their junk,” Pepper exclaims, making a fist and thrusting it forward. These girls. Who the heck needs men with them in your corner?
“What happened? What did he do?” Genni asks.
“Well, sweet moses, let the girl talk or we could be growing hair waiting for the deets,” Carol Ann interjects. I swear this girl sounds like she’s from the deep south of Tennessee, not right down the road in Caroline County.
Suddenly, the table grows quiet, and I make eye contact with each of them, all blinking at me like I’m a fish in a bowl. “Where do I even start?”
“The beginning, hun. Bless your heart.” Carol Ann gives my friends a look like, how did this chick get into medical school, anyway ? before returning back to me. Anyone south of the Mason Dixon knows Bless your heart is the southern way of calling someone dumb as a stump. I think in Carol Ann’s case, it’s simply her way of placating me. “And don’t leave out a thing.”
“Hi ladies. Sorry for the delay. What can I get you?” The server realizes I haven’t given a drink order yet and starts to ask when Pepper jumps in. “She’ll have a Bloody Mary and a cup of strong coffee.”
What the?
“Yes. And we’ll have our usual,” Genni directs, knowing this server has waited on us several times in the last few months.
“Four west coast omelets, and two hazelnut coconut crepes to share?”
“Yes. Perfect memory, Monty.”
We must spend entirely too much time here. This place is always packed. So, for Monty to have memorized our order by heart, it’s just plain ridiculous.
“And what if I wanted something—”
“Awe shucks. Get on with it,” Carol Ann groans.
“Did Sam catfish you?” Genni asks.
“No. He was exactly who he appeared to be on the dating app. The only thing he left out of his bio was how much of a playboy he probably is. Well, that and where he works.”
“Where does he work?” Pepper interjects. Her voice suddenly drops to a whisper. “Is he a gigolo?”
This makes me snort.
“Oh, for crying out loud, Pepper. Have you been watching Saturday Night Fever or some other seventies movie? Who even says gigolo anymore?” Carol Ann quips.
A genuine laugh bubbles up from my chest at these two. And I’ve never been so grateful.
“So, go on. Where does he work?” Genni prods.
“His family owns the Saude Creek vineyard.”
With this declaration, water spews from Carol Ann’s mouth just as Genni’s chin almost hits the table.
“What?”
Carol Ann slaps both palms flat on the table in front of her. “Your dating app matched you with Samuel Lee? Oh, my stars. Playboy doesn’t scratch the surface of that one. He’s legendary.” She waggles her finger between us. “Trust me, you want none of that. He’s more trouble than a two-headed cow.”
Leaning forward in my seat to get the skinny on my date, I coax Carol Ann to continue by curling my fingers repetitively in a keep going motion. I’ve known her long enough, I don’t even attempt to make sense of her goofy slang.
“Well, my sweet friend, Lexi Patterson, grew up with him. You might know her. She’s a brainiac doctor like you.”
“Alexis Patterson, the urologist?”
A server deposits my cocktail and coffee in front of me, and I quickly add creamer and stir, waiting on the rest of Carol Ann’s story.
“That’s the one. Anyway, they grew up tighter than two ticks on a hound’s butt. That girl fought it, but she fell hard for the guy. I mean, he is a looker, I’ll give him that. But he friend zoned her, and that’s where she stayed.”
“Carol Ann?” Pepper asks.
“Yeah?”
“What has this got to do with anything?”
“Cheese and crackers. I’m getting to that part.” She lifts her water glass as if it’s vital to completing her salacious tale. “Anyway…” She stops to look at Pepper, rolling her eyes at the interruption. Carol Ann is going to give herself a retinal detachment for all the eye rolling we’re getting today. “She had to go through her formative years watching that boy go from plowing the vineyard with his grandad to sewing his wild oats with every girl with a pulse. Every girl but her, that is. Broke her heart. And best I can tell, he hasn’t slowed down any.”
I slump back in my seat. “Well, that answers a lot.”
Monty returns with a tray full of food, and I’m shocked at my suddenly ravenous state. Never in a million years did I think I’d have any appetite today after the events of last night. But these girls are the best medicine around.
“What do you mean?” Pepper asks, tearing off a corner piece of her toast.
“All night I kept watching him smiling at people over my shoulder. It was one thing when the young hostess was all goo-goo eyed over him, but it kept happening. I’ve never been to Saude Creek and hadn’t heard that much about it. I assumed it must be a popular venue, and he was like a local celebrity or something. But he seemed much more flirtatious than that.”
“Girl, you have no idea.” Carol Ann tsks, her head shaking like a gossip in church. “It clearly doesn’t take much to impress women in this town. I mean, he must have a ten-inch dick or something ’cause I don’t get it. Sure, he’s good looking, but he’s all foam and no beer.”
“What?” Pepper asks.
“Vapid, dull, uninspiring…” Genni clarifies.
“That’s what I said.”
I giggle. “You’re about right. He seemed nice enough, but the whole conversation felt like a weird sales pitch. Just flat. And I’m still not entirely sure what he was selling.”
Carol Ann arches a brow in my direction. “I think we both know what he was selling,” she adds as she lifts a bite of omelet to her mouth before using her hand and fork to demonstrate the aforementioned ten-inch dick.
I wave her off. I never got the feeling he was making a move on me.
“I think the days of Saude Creek and Sam Lee having celebrity status are long gone,” Peppers adds. “I used to love to visit there. It’s been more than a few years since I’ve gone, but from what I recall, it had really gone downhill.”
“Yes, he intimated as much. But he sounds really invested in trying to get things turned around. Apparently, his parents let it go.”
“Ran it into the ground is more like it,” Carol Ann adds. “From what Lexi said, the only effort they put into the place after his grandfather died was bleeding it dry. Complete money grubbers.”
Suddenly, my heart clenches for Sam. To think he has such an uphill climb because of his very own parents. My relationship with mine wasn’t great. But at least they weren’t sucking the life out of the family business. Heck, that’d probably be more energy than either of my parents would be willing to expend, anyway. They should thank their lucky stars that my grandfather worked hard enough for the both of them. So they can live the life of luxury they’ve become accustomed to.
“So, I don’t get what caused your date to be so traumatic,” Genni shares around a bite of food. “I mean, you could’ve told me last night if you felt he was a womanizer and wouldn’t be seeing him again.”
Putting my silverware down, I reach for my napkin and dab my lips before dropping the gauntlet. “He wasn’t the traumatic part. Sam was so enthusiastic once I shared I was a surgeon that he put his hand over mine.”
“And that’s how it starts,” Carol Ann mumbles, the heavy twang evident in her tone.
Pepper laughs around a bite of omelet.
“Maybe. But it felt genuine. Not that I had time to really examine it before Matteo stormed over and told him to take his fucking hand off My Wife .”
The clatter of utensils startles me, and I look up to find all three of my friends staring at me in complete shock.
“Wow. Way to bury the lead, Syd. You should’ve started there,” Genni blurts.
“Uh, someone said to start at the beginning, hun. Bless your heart ,” I imitate in my best southern drawl.
“She ain’t wrong,” Carol Ann acknowledges.
“What was Matteo doing there?” Pepper asks.
“I have absolutely no idea.”
“And why did he call you his wife?” Genni asks.
I wave my fork full of chocolate crepe in her direction. “Same answer.”
The three of them lean back against the booth’s cushions, appearing as mystified as I’ve been.
“Had you seen him since your divorce?” Pepper asks.
“No. The last time I saw him was that night at Luigi’s restaurant when he ran his hand up that leggy brunette’s leg before pulling her into his lap.” I don’t miss the grimace on Pepper’s face at the reminder.
That night is seared into my memory. My husband of two years had packed his things and left. Leaving a two word note in his wake.
I’m sorry.
We hadn’t fought. Not about anything substantial, mind you. I’d asked to travel, which he declined, using his job as an excuse. Then begged for him to attend a charity gala with me, but he wanted no part in a stuffy banquet with a bunch of phony people . I knew he was referencing my parents and their social circle. I asked if he’d consider it for me. But he simply walked away. Yet I never believed that would’ve been enough to end our marriage.
I’d gone to our favorite Italian restaurant, hoping to find answers. Little did I know what I was in for. I knew he and the owner, Luigi, were close, and prayed he’d have mercy on me and throw me a bone. Let me know what could’ve caused my husband to pack up and leave. Yet I never imagined I’d walk in to find Matteo there.
The minute he saw me, he reached up to stroke the thigh of the beautiful woman standing beside his chair. As he pulled her into his lap, he looked directly at me. The message was clear. He’d moved on.
Almost as shocking was discovering he was nursing a scotch. I could count on two fingers the number of times I’d seen him drink, and one of those was the champagne toast in the town car following our wedding. It’d be easy to blame his behavior on the alcohol, yet by the look he gave me, I’m certain he knew exactly what he was doing.
“So, what happened after he approached the two of you?” Genni prods.
I take a long sip of my Bloody Mary. “We shared barbs, Sam dropped a wad of cash before rushing off, and then I stormed out of the door.”
“Okay, wait, wait, wait. I feel like you’re leaving out the nitty gritty. What barbs? Why was he calling you his wife?” Pepper asks, eyes wide above the rim of her coffee mug.
“It was odd, really. He kept making reference to the fact neither one of us had forgotten the other. That I’d be making a mistake going home with Sam. That there was only one man who could give me what I needed.” The words pour out of my mouth easily. They should, given the number of times I replayed them last night.
Looking up, I find all three girls staring at me.
Genni drops her hand on my forearm. “Was he drunk?”
“I don’t think so. As bizarre as his behavior was after all of this time, he seemed lucid.” Suddenly, I frown, biting the inside of my cheek to prevent returning to my emotional state from last night.
“What is it?” Genni sweetly coaxes.
I drop my face into my hands. “What the heck is wrong with me that after everything he put me through, I kept wanting to believe he still cared about me?”
“Oh, babe. It’s natural. You loved him. Grieved so long over him.” Genni glides her hand up and down my arm in a soothing motion.
“Natural, my ass. Love him or not, after everything he did, I wouldn’t spit on him if he was on fire.”
“Carol Ann!” both of my friends scold.
“What? I’m just sayin’.” She shrugs. “Look. I know he was the love of your life. But as sexy as it is to have some hot tattooed Italian go all caveman, he’s got a lot of groveling to do before I’d give him the time of day. I mean, hell’s bells, I wouldn’t trust him to watch my pet rock after everything he’s done.”
Carol Ann lifts her napkin to the corners of her mouth. “You listen here, Sydney Cunningham. Yes, I said Cunningham, not Bianchi. You are the smartest woman I know. Do not let this man play games with you. You call the shots now. Not him.”
I sit up taller, lifting my chin. “No. You’re right. I stood up to him last night. It wasn’t ’til the dust settled that I got emotional about everything.”
Genni covers my hand with hers. “Listen here, Sydney. No one is judging you for getting emotional.” She glares at Carol Ann. “Any divorce is hard, but this man put you through the wringer. It goes to reason you’d be emotional after seeing him after all of this time. Then to have him publicly claiming you as his wife and making references to the two of you as if you were still an item. I’d be an emotional wreck too.”
“You’re allowed to grieve your marriage. I think all Carol Ann is trying to say is to not let your feelings for him cloud your judgment,” Pepper adds.
“Yes. That’s what I was trying to say.” Her tone is unusually timid.
“It’s okay, Carol Ann. I need a little tough love. I’m just overwhelmed. Getting back out there after all of this time was hard enough. I definitely wasn’t prepared for the universe to throw my tornado of an ex into the equation.”
“Listen, just don’t let him into your head. He’s done enough damage. Be strong. Know your worth. And the next time you attempt to meet a man, we’ll do it the old-fashioned way. In. A. Bar. Your three wing women won’t steer you wrong.”
I giggle. She’s probably right. Safety in numbers. Not that I’m eager to try dating again anytime soon. But I certainly won’t mind the reinforcements.
Especially if Matteo Bianchi decides to crash the party.