Chapter 1
Chapter One
CHRISTMAS EVE – CHICAGO
It was the most wonderful time of year—the world was full of light and laughter, and families gathered to celebrate the winter holidays.
Angelo Vertucci knew he should be filled with that same love and joy, and yet, as he watched his family flow through the front door of his Chicago brownstone, he never felt more alone.
His mother, father, niece, nephew, brother, and sister-in-law, all ruddy cheeked and excited, were carrying packages inside, while he stood there with a smile he hoped was convincing, holding the door open and nodding as everyone greeted him.
He embraced his mother, Francesca and clasped his father, Matteo, in a bear hug hoping they didn’t see his smile slip for a brief instant.
“Buon Natale! Come in, everyone!” He stepped back to let his parents into the living room. Three wide windows in the front of his living room provided a lovely view of the street. His Christmas tree was dutifully set up, providing a display which immediately drew his mother in.
“It’s lovely, son,” Matteo said. He hoisted up two bags of Christmas gifts to set down by the tree. Angelo turned back to the open door to greet another wave of family members coming up the walkway.
“Uncle Angelo!” Nicholas, his seven-year-old nephew tackled his legs, which made Angelo grunt and laugh as he hugged the boy back.
“You’re getting stronger every time I see you, Nicky. You’ll knock me on my butt the next time.”
Nicholas sniggered and whispered, “You said butt.”
Angelo winked. “Don’t tell your mom,” he whispered back as the boy darted past to get inside.
He looked up at his younger brother Dante and his wife Alessia who now were coming up the steps. Dante carried his daughter little Matilda, or Millie as everyone called her, on his shoulders.
“Uncle Angelo!” Millie, only two years younger than her brother Nicholas, spoke with a light birdlike chirp.
He held out his arms to her. “Millie, cara, you’re growing up too fast for me!”
“Am I? Will I be a giant like you some day?”
Angelo considered her question as Millie’s father, Dante, transferred her from his shoulders to Angelo’s arms. He swung the girl around the air like an airplane.
“Perhaps someday. Keep eating your vegetables!” He dropped Millie onto the couch, making her squeal and kick her feet.
She wore her latest ballet costume complete with an icy blue tutu and wore soft ballet slippers on her tiny feet.
“Have you been dancing again?” He teased as he grasped Millie’s toes and wiggled her feet playfully, making her kick in the air. Then she did the most ungraceful but hilarious flop off the couch onto the floor, which made his niece roar with laughter.
“I had my last Nutcracker performance this afternoon!” she crowed as she began to twirl around the coffee table.
“That’s right!” He’d seen her first performance two weeks ago, but he’d forgotten she had one each day for the last week.
Nicholas sat down by the tree where Matteo’s antique train was already set up. It had entertained three generations of children in the Vertucci family.
Dante chuckled, as if reading Angelo’s thoughts. “ You know, I’ll have to confiscate that train from you if you don’t get moving on the kid front.”
“Dante!” Alessia jabbed his brother in the stomach quite hard.
Dante grunted and braced himself against the back of the couch. Alessia winked at Angelo, Alessia had come from a quiet family in Boston, but managed to hold her own among the wild Vertuccis.
The Vertuccis were a merry, boisterous Italian family which consisted of his parents, his three younger brothers—Dante, Faro and Renzo—and now his brothers’ various wives and many, many children.
This year, Faro and Renzo were celebrating Christmas with their wives’ families, but Dante and Alessia and their two children were able to come to Angelo’s house.
Angelo was happy to host Christmas Eve because his brownstone had enough rooms for everyone to spend the night if necessary.
It seemed that would be the case, given the snowfall outside.
The roads were travelable at the moment, but in four or five hours it wouldn’t be worth trying to cross the city.
“You are lucky we have any kids,” Alessia told her husband who was still groaning dramatically but also laughing. “I only agreed because you charmed the hell out of me,” she added.
Dante pulled Alessia in for a kiss that made Millie squeal “Eew!” Then the five-year-old burst into giggles.
Angelo came over and crouched down beside Nicholas, who was rearranging the order of the metal and plastic train cars on the tracks.
“How’s school?” Angelo asked.
Nicholas shrugged. “Good, I guess.”
“Excited to be off for winter break?” Angelo helped Nicholas reconnect the engine to the coal car.
“Yep. Dad says we’re gonna go to the Field Museum next week. You wanna come with us?”
Angelo ruffled Nicholas’s hair. “I’d love that, kiddo.” The boy smiled.
Nicholas was more like Alessia and in many ways like Angelo.
He was a quiet, thoughtful boy. Still waters ran deep in him, just like Angelo.
Millie, on the other hand, was a whirling dervish of joy and energy, like rest of the Vertuccis.
Right now she was performing pirouettes in the kitchen, showing off her moves to her grandparents, who watched with adoration and clapped when she finished.
“Angelo dear, your kitchen is a mess,” his mother chided.
She tutted and fretted over the counters where he’d prepped the food.
He’d only just put everything on the stove and in the oven when the first knock at the door came.
He hadn’t had a chance to clean up, and of course his mother thought he’d left the mess on purpose.
He chuckled and let out a sigh. “Aye, mama,” he said, his American accent slipping briefly into Italian. “Let it go. Everything is in the oven.” He groaned and rolled his eyes, making his father laugh.
His father pulled Francesca away from the ovens and kissed her soundly to distract her. Something sharp pinched in Angelo’s chest. He longed for that… to have a woman to hold, someone to kiss and call his own.
He was, once again, alone this time of year.
In past years he’d spent the holidays with his two best friends and hadn’t felt so alone.
Now one was married with a baby, and the other was planning to propose on Christmas Day to his own woman.
Which left Angelo to face the holidays with his family, and no other single men for his mother to tease about getting married. Just him.
Jennifer, his most recent ex, had been an amazing woman. He’d enjoyed being with her, but they’d agreed that the spark they’d been searching for hadn’t been there for either of them. So here he was, feeling foolish he was spending another Christmas without someone.
It wasn’t that he wanted a woman to complete his life or ease his need for companionship.
He had a bone-deep need to give his heart, his joy, his everything to another person.
He ached to love someone. His Nonna, his mother’s mother, had christened him a giver when he was a young child.
She’d cupped his face in her wrinkled hands, and her smile lit up the room as she’d whispered the words that would change his life forever.
“Angelo, you are a giver. You give love, and when you cannot give love you must give food. Come. You will learn to cook with me.”
He’d spent every summer in Italy at his grandmother’s side in the sun-drenched city of Ortigia, learning his craft for ten straight years. She’d passed just before he finished culinary school, but knew she would have been proud of him.
Now he owned his own restaurant, The Italian Village. His father’s younger brother, Uncle Luigi, was one of the cooks, and the restaurant had become a smashing success, especially with tourists.
Nonna’s words still ran deeper than his chest. “You are a giver. You give love…”
So why couldn’t he find the right woman to give that love to? He had watched his best friends, Jared and Thad, find women who were their very worlds in the last few years. But not him.
His mother poked him in the ribs. “Angelo, smile. It’s Christmas!” Francesca watched Millie prance about the room, performing part of her ballet. “Why can’t you give me some grandbabies?”
Angelo let out a sigh. Grandbabies. Every year.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want any, but it had to be with the right woman at the right time.
Dante used to tease him about yearning for a soulmate.
The sad thing was that his brother was right.
He wanted someone he could build a life with, a woman who truly was the mate of his soul.
Maybe that made him old-fashioned, or naive, but that’s what he wanted.
To see someone from across a room and feel the strings of fate pull at him, that flash of lightning beneath his skin, to know that his heart was destined to belong to that woman.
That didn’t happen in real life. Real love was built on solid foundations of friendship and respect. But he wanted passion too and felt greedy for wanting all three things at once right away.
His two best friends had found all three. Why not him?
Jared, his workaholic lawyer friend, had stumbled on his own soulmate, quite literally, in his bed.
His younger brother had been throwing a Halloween party, and Felicity, dressed in a princess gown, had passed out in his room.
He’d been too tired and crashed in bed beside her.
She’d woke up with no idea who Jared was, and he’d assured her nothing had happened between them.
But he’d asked her out and just like that, they’d started falling in love.
That had been it for Jared’s single life.