Chapter 2 – Marco
I had some time between meetings, so I stopped by the record store to visit Bea. As usual, she had to scurry to leave my house that morning, and I missed her.
The second I walk in, her face lights up.
“Howdy, stranger!” She comes from behind the cash register and gives me a big hug.
“How are you, gorgeous?” I inhale deeply and still smell my cologne on her skin.
“I’m good. What about you?”
“Good, good. But much better now.” I resist my desire to kiss her deeply. Her thin yet somewhat pouty lips entice me, and I have to let her go before I lose control of myself.
Within a few minutes, Micky emerges from the back. She’s carrying a cardboard box.
“Oh! Hey, Marco.”
“Hey, Micky. Whatcha got there?”
“Just some old tapes that were donated.”
“Nice.”
She sets it down and starts rooting around. “Oh! Joy Division! That’s from your era, no?”
I chuckle. “How old do you think I am?”
“Well, if memory serves me correctly, they disbanded in like 1980. I assume you were at least . . . five by then?”
She’s obviously joking, but I still self-consciously brush a hand through my intact hair. “I was born in 1987.”
“Micky, stop messing with him.”
“Sorry. He’s just so handsome and put together. I like to see him squirm a little.”
That comment makes me tug on my suit coat.
“Don’t listen to her. She just likes ruffling feathers.”
Yeah. I remember almost passing out when she showed me several of her body modifications.
“Hey, can we talk in the back really quick?” Bea suddenly asks.
“Yeah, sure.”
I follow her, and she parts the curtain before I walk through it.
“What’s up?” I’m a little worried something is wrong, so I’m searching her eyes for any sign of a problem. But they look to be as clear, eager, and beautiful as ever—even in the dim, musky back room we’re in.
“I—I just . . .” She bites her lower lip, and I grab her hands.
“What?”
“I just wanted to make sure that we’re exclusive.”
I can hardly believe what I’m hearing. If I wasn’t at work, I was at home with her and my girls. I physically didn’t have the time to entertain another woman. Not that I wanted to in the first place.
“Of course, we are . . . that’s what you want, isn’t it?”
She looks up and smiles. “Yeah.” Her nose is adorably wrinkled.
“Good.” With our privacy, I feel comfortable finally bending down and kissing her.
“I just realized we didn’t explicitly say that before,” she says after we part.
“. . . I suppose that’s true. But I thought saying I love you covered that.”
Bea laughs. “That’s what I thought too. But I just wanted to be sure. Micky got in my head all about not telling Aurora and Alessia about us.”
I sigh. “I want to tell them. I really do. I just worry.”
She grasps my hands now and squeezes tight. “I know. And I trust your discretion with that. There’s no reason to rush it as long as we’re on the same page.”
We kiss again. “Thank you for understanding.” I feel so bad that her friends are questioning my intentions and making her do the same. I just can’t risk them getting hurt if things don’t work out. They’re already so attached to her. I’d die if I ripped the only constant woman in their life away from them.
“Of course.”
She puts her arms around my neck, and we put our foreheads together.
“Hey, Bea? Mrs. Anderson is out here, and she has a question for you.”
She lifts her head. “Well, I guess I should get going.”
I checked my expensive watch, which I know her friend would make fun of me if she ever saw it, and saw that it’s almost one.
“Shoot, yeah. I gotta go, too. I have a new client meeting in fifteen minutes.”
“Oh! Wow. Okay. I’ll see you later tonight. Do you need me to pick up the girls?”
“No, I should be able to do it. Thank you for offering, though.”
“Of course.”
It feels so amazing to have a partner to raise them finally. It isn’t just me anymore, and I know they’ll need her as they continue to age. I guess that’s another reason I don’t want to acknowledge our relationship to them—I don’t want to even think about a world where she isn’t in ours.
So, I give her one more peck before we both go back to attending to work.
When I pull up to my small firm, however, I see a fancy car I don’t recognize in the lot.
The client I’m supposed to be meeting up with is dealing with bankruptcy, so I know for sure that that isn’t her vehicle. And if it is, I need to reconsider representing her seriously.
I go inside, look around the waiting room, and fail to see anyone.
“It’s your mother, Luisa,” my receptionist says.
“What?”
The young girl before me shrugs her shoulders. “I offered for her to take a seat, but she insisted on waiting for you in your office.”
“Uh, okay. When Miss Taylor comes in, please make sure she’s all set up with coffee, tea, or water—”
“Will do.”
“Thanks. This shouldn’t take too long.”
I haven’t seen my mother in years. She’s been too busy expanding her jewelry business back in Italy. So, her sudden appearance has me a little shaken up.
“Mother?”
I turn the corner into my bright office and see her stoic figure inspecting one of the many plants I have.
“You’re overwatering this one,” she says without turning around. Her straight, dark hair with flecks of silver still cascades down her back. It’s almost as long as Bea’s, but not quite.
“Okay . . .”
We just sit there in awkward silence for a moment before she finally faces me.
“May I ask what you’re doing here?”
“A mother has to have a reason to visit her son?”
“For a world traveler like you, I’d say your presence in Hazelhurst is a little jarring, yes.”
“Well, I’m a little concerned myself.”
“About what?” I widen my stance and cross my arms.
“This little tryst you’re having with a young hippie woman.”
“What? How the hell—” I shut my mouth and answered my own question. I was never quite sure how she did it, but my mother always seemed to know all.
“What’s her name again? Bea?”
“Yes. But I don’t see why my relationship is any concern of yours.”
“Well, we have family money to worry about, Marco. Thank God that Clara didn’t manage to get her dirty hands on it.”
I sigh loudly before sitting down and gesturing for her to sit across from me. “Bea isn’t like that. And it’s not like I’m proposing any time soon in the first place.”
She flicks her hair over her shoulder before having a seat. “I understand that. But if what my sources tell me is correct—she works at a record store that her parents own?”
“Yeah. So, what?”
“Well, I don’t know. But that just seems a little . . . beneath you.”
Our age gap already made me feel weird enough at times; I didn’t need the pressure of our socioeconomic differences to factor into that as well. It’s not like I’m some old guy in a wheelchair and hooked up to an oxygen mask with a young, big-breasted blonde on my lap.
I have to shake my head to even get that image out of my head.
“Sorry, what were you saying?” I ask after my vision focuses again.
“I’m just asking you to be careful. That’s all.”
“I appreciate that.” Although my mother could come off kind of cold, I knew that at the heart of everything, she loved me and cared for my well-being. She was just raised from a young age to be hard and emotionless whenever possible. Fortunately, my father, Elio, was not like that at all, and he encouraged us to emote. However, I’d be lying if I didn’t acknowledge that I had a little bit of my mom in me when it comes to certain scenarios.
For instance, as much as I wanted to break down and sob after seeing both of my daughters’ gorgeous faces for the first time, I stopped myself in fear of looking “weak.”
“But I’ll be just fine,” I continue, “trust me.”
She swallows hard. “Okay. If you say so . . .”
“I do.”
“And keep my darling granddaughters’ interests in mind here.”
“They don’t even know about our relationship. As far as they’re concerned, she’s just a dear friend of the family who helps me out with watching them from time to time.”
“Good. I’d keep it that way until you know for sure what her intentions are.”
“Okay, mother. Is there anything else I can help you with? I have a client coming in any minute?”
“I’d like to have dinner with you tonight.”
My stomach drops. “But Bea is going to be over.”
“That’s fine. I’d like to meet her. Plus, I want to see Aurora and Alessia.”
“Uh—”
“Great. It’s sorted. Are there any decent Italian restaurants we can get takeout from around here?”
“Actually, yeah. Anthony’s Ristorante is pretty good.”
“Wonderful. You know my taste, so I’ll leave it up to you to order for me.”
“Okay.”
“Should we say six o’clock?”
“Sure.”