Chapter 19 #2
After the treatment, I stayed for Monday movie night.
Rose apparently allowed Angelica to stay up quite late if she’d had a good nap during the day.
But halfway through the movie—Angelica’s current favorite, The Secret of Kells—the distinct sound of someone messing with the lock of the front door made my stomach cramp in fear.
I stiffened and stood, placed my finger on my lips to silence Rose, and shook my head.
Nico wasn’t due back until the next day, and the guards always announced themselves.
I felt an immediate and fierce surge of protectiveness for both Angelica and Rose.
“Call Quinn,” I whispered to Rose. “Tell him there is someone trying to get in the apartment.”
After the envelope left at the hospital, I felt certain that the Fancy Stalker had found her way into the building.
I didn’t know how she’d managed to get past all the security, but I knew I wasn’t going to let her into the apartment.
There was no way in hell she would have an opportunity to hurt Angelica or Rose.
I rushed into the kitchen and grabbed a cast-iron frying pan. As quietly as I could, I tiptoed to the front door and heard the bone-chilling sound of someone turning the lock. I tightened my grip on the pan and prepared to knock out the intruder.
When the door swung open, I lifted the cast iron and met the startled expression of Nico—wide eyes, hand on chest, audible gasp. He took a step back into the hall.
“Jesus, Elizabeth!” He breathed out, still gripping his chest. “You scared the shit out of me.”
My arms fell to my sides, the pan to the floor, and I raced into his arms and hugged him tightly around the neck. “You scared me too.”
He hesitated a moment, then returned my hug, holding me with equal force. “What the hell is going on? Is everyone ok? Where’s Angelica? Are you ok?”
I buried my face in his neck and breathed in the comforting smell of his scent. He smelled like his cologne and mint. Faintly, I registered that the scent of cigarette smoke was missing.
“You weren’t supposed to be home until tomorrow!”
“I caught an earlier flight.” His hand rubbed a circle over my back.
“Oh God! I thought you were the Fancy Stalker.”
His hand stilled. “Fancy Stalker? Wait…what?”
“Uncle Nico!” Angelica’s small voice carried to my ears, and I released my stranglehold on his neck. I stepped out of his embrace, which he reluctantly allowed, and shuffled to the end of the entryway, giving his niece plenty of space to welcome him home.
I stood at the end of the hallway and watched the homecoming ritual unfold as I tried to calm my frayed nerves while avoiding eye contact with both Rose and Nico.
Angelica was embraced first.
“I missed you, Uncle Nico.” Her typically diminutive voice sounded unusually fervent.
“I missed you too, muffin,” was Nico’s muffled response, his face obscured by her mop of hair. After a long moment, Angelica pulled away and smoothed her hands over his cheeks. Nico asked about her day, about the status of her dolls, about the antics of Pinky Pie on My Little Pony.
Next, still casting stern looks in my direction and still holding Angelica with one arm, he hugged Rose and gave her a kiss on the cheek. She returned his kiss then inspected his face and clothes.
“Are you eating anything at all in New York?”
“Yes, Ma.”
“What are you eating? Not much, that’s what. You’ll come in and eat now.”
“I already grabbed something at the airport.” Nico glanced at the ceiling but then his gaze snagged on mine, and he frowned.
“That’s not food, Niccolò. You’ll eat again. Elizabeth and I made ravioli,” Rose said.
“That’s not true. Rose made ravioli. I watched.” I held my hands up.
“No.” Angelica rested her head on Nico’s shoulder and gave me a small grin. “You did make some, but they all went in the trash.”
Feeling a bit calmer, I wrinkled my nose at her. She laughed.
Rose exhaled loudly and took Angelica from Nico’s arms. “I’m not going to stand here and argue about the ravioli when Nico should be eating it instead. And you,” she held Angelica close, “should be in bed.” Rose turned and winked at me as she carried Angelica out of the entryway.
Nico watched his mother and niece depart then his eyes found and held mine.
We stared at each other, as was our habit, and I realized how deeply I’d missed seeing him.
He had reentered my life a few weeks ago, we’d spoken on the phone every day for the last five days, and he’d only been gone a week, but I missed him.
I clasped my hands in front of me, my fingers wound tightly together, to keep from blurting out the truth of it.
“Hi, friend.” His voice was both teasing and concerned.
“Hola, amigo.”
“Do you want to tell me what happened?”
I returned his interrogating stare with an ashamed, evasive, shifty-eyed, stalling shrug. “Sure...but first, you should probably get something to eat.”
“No, Elizabeth.” His face was suddenly granite. “Did she come back? Did she approach you?”
I was caught. “She didn’t approach me. But she did show up today.”
He cussed. His voice rose and he checked himself; he pulled his hands through his hair, mussed it to perfection. I placed my hands on his forearms to pull his attention and focus back to me. “Calm down. Just calm down—it was really nothing, ok?”
Nico’s eyes searched mine, his expression wavering between fury and worry. Mimicking the force of my earlier stranglehold, he abruptly pulled me into his arms. “I want to lock you up. I want to put you in a safe, and only I’ll have the key.”
I felt his heart hammering against his chest. It was my turn to draw circles on his back, thread my fingers through his hair, and rub his neck.
“Hey, now…everything is fine. Let me just tell you what happened, ok? It’s not that bad.”
“Elizabeth, you were about to knock me out with a frying pan. I saw the fear in your eyes. Don’t tell me it’s not that bad.”
I waited a beat, then said, “It’s not that bad.”
He released a nervous laugh, and I smiled into his chest and pushed slightly against him so that I could see his eyes. “I’ll tell you everything. Just come in and eat something first. Have some wine.”
He regarded me warily, but finally nodded his assent.
He tucked me under his arm and we walked to the dining room table.
Rose had very efficiently set out a place for him piled high with ravioli, focaccia, and sautéed sunflower leaves.
My mouth started to water even though I was still full from my earlier pig-out.
We sat in silence for a while, then I filled the quiet with mundane questions and comments about his day, my day, and Angelica’s treatment. He drank three glasses of wine in rapid succession, his eyes growing more liquid with each glass.
I waited until he seemed somewhat relaxed—which was not at all relaxed but no longer on the verge of murdering someone—then told him of today’s strangeness.
He listened, fingering the stem of his wineglass, twisting it between his thumb and forefinger. I noted that his jaw flexed and his temple ticked a few times.
When I finished, I met his gaze; his eyes resembled hot coals. I could tell he was trying very hard to keep his temper in check.
“This is so fu—” his voice was lethally low; he caught himself before he could finish the word. “We have to find a way to keep her away from you.”
I nodded. “Dan will be following me around the clinic from now on, so I’ll have a guard with me at all times.”
His jaw ticked again. “I know this woman. She is dangerous.”
“Nico…who is she? Is she the one you mentioned before?”
“Yes. I met her at a club that night when she put her hands down my pants, and I—” Nico stood abruptly and walked away from the table.
I followed him. “Why do you think she is dangerous?”
He spun on me. “Because she attacked one of the dancers on my show.”
I stepped back. “Oh….”
“Yeah. Oh.”
“Why isn’t she in jail?”
“She was in jail, for two years. She was released last year.”
“Why did she attack the dancer?”
“Because I was dating her.”
I took another step back as if I’d been slapped. “Oh.”
He studied me. An extremely uncomfortable moment passed. I concentrated on breathing.
Nico shifted his weight and placed his hands on his hips. “I don’t do that anymore.”
“What?”
“Date the dancers. It was only the one time.”
I nodded, wanted to tell him it was none of my business, but I couldn’t seem to get the words past my throat. I hated that he’d been looking for girl C.
Instead, I turned and said over my shoulder, “Come back to the table and finish your dinner.”
Nico followed me back to the table. I poured him another glass of wine and took the seat adjacent to his where I sat and fiddled with the napkin. I could feel his eyes on me, but I didn’t return his gaze.
“Hey, what are you thinking about?” Nico placed his hand over mine, drawing me out of my thoughts.
I pulled my hand away and tucked loose strands of hair behind my ears.
I really needed to rebraid my hair. In fact, I really needed a makeover.
For the first time in a long time I felt like maybe I needed to try a bit harder putting myself together; maybe doing my hair would be a good idea, or wearing makeup, or growing four inches.
“I was just thinking that if we were at your family’s restaurant right now, skeevy Frank Sinatra would be playing on the jukebox.”
“Skeevy Frank Sinatra? Frank Sinatra isn’t skeevy.”
“You have to admit, he was kind of a jerk—him and his dumb women.” I felt strangely argumentative, hot, and annoyed.
“What do you have against Frank Sinatra?”
“He just seems like the poster boy for chauvinistic men—that is, until you came along with your show and picked up the torch.”