39. Brook
Baldo’s lips crash against mine with an urgency and possession that steals my thoughts. His lips, demanding but soft on me, sprout tingles all over my body.
I part for him, and he takes all I’m giving, but, oh, does he give back. He tastes like everything essential and everything forbidden. Full of sin and redemption. Filled with promise and acceptance.
His lips erase all my doubts. They negate any choice. Because there is no choice. There is just him. It has always been him.
He isn’t just kissing my lips, he’s kissing my whole being, every single nerve ending, each crevice in my soul.
Like he’s rebuilding me, the connection recalibrates every frequency in my body, changing the energies, creating pathways for more. For going deeper. For us.
In that kiss, our past and present collide, creating a promise of the future we’ve yearned for since our lips touched for the first time all those years ago.
I’m completely lost in the moment, my mind floating, my body tingling, my core clenching.
Baldo’s hands are in my hair as he devours me with such devotion that I struggle to take it all.
When we finally break apart for air, I almost collapse, my knees giving out. But he’s there, holding me.
“You kissed me.” My voice is a breathy whisper.
“Stop talking,” he growls, and fuses his mouth with mine again.
It’s like he wants to kiss me for all the kisses he refused to give me before. For all the kisses we didn’t get to have over the years.
And I’m still the only woman he’s ever kissed. The thought strips me of any inhibition, and I claw at his skin, climbing him, kissing him back with fervor.
A satisfied guttural groan escapes him, and I sigh with delight.
We break it off, panting, vaguely aware of where we are.
We stare at each other like we’re rediscovering who we are.
“You kissed me,” I say again.
“I should have done it a long time ago.”
My grin is so wide it might dislocate my jaw. “I love you, Baldo Cassinetti.”
“Oh, yeah, I meant to say that.” He shakes his head, dazed.
“Then say it.” I giggle and wrap my arms around his neck.
He studies me for a moment. “I love you, Tokyo.” He lowers his lips to mine, but this time it’s a soft, reverent kiss. “It has always been you, baby.”
“And you kissed me.” I giggle again, giddy and drunk on lust and love and joy.
“I might need to do it many more times to improve.”
“To improve?” I laugh.
“I might fuck like a pro, but I probably kiss like a teenager.”
Only Baldo can be cocky and humble at the same time. “You kiss just like I need it.”
He narrows his eyes, but his lips are quirking up. “So, no practicing then?”
“Oh, definitely more practicing.” I kiss him. “But you don’t kiss like a teenager. You kiss like a man. My man.”
He utters another sound that is all man and sex and pure hotness and need, and kisses me again.
“You came back to kiss me.” I pant, but the joy is just bursting through me, stretching my grin almost painfully.
“Yes.” He lowers his forehead against mine and smooths my hair before he cups my face.
“You came back to kiss me.” It’s like I need to repeat it to ensure it’s real. That I’m not just dreaming it.
“Yes.” He chuckles.
“I’m the future mother of your children.”
“I hope so.”
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “Let’s go tell Mom and Dad.”
* * *
All my life, I’ve hoped for acceptance from my family. Yet the whole time I was running away, not sharing with them, hiding different pieces of myself.
Today, the man my father pushed away from me, and who in the process lost his own connection with our family, took a leap and decided to show up.
For us.
For our love.
For me.
When he encouraged me to produce the TV series earlier, I felt supported and respected in a way I haven’t felt in years.
Spending the night locked away from him was so lonely. I’m used to being alone, but after sharing my life with Baldo these last few months, the loneliness was more profound.
Yes, I was mad at him for his meddling, but I was madder at myself for pushing him away. Not only last night, but every day since we returned to New York.
I decided to tell everyone today because I don’t want to hide anymore.
I love him.
And I want everyone to know.
The decision looked less solid in the light of morning, but I didn’t want the fear of losing my father to stop me.
What stopped me was Baldo’s decision to take his Maserati for a ride.
But he came back, and he kissed me.
Giving me the last piece of him he had kept out of my reach.
Showing me his trust.
Gifting me his love.
And I’m not going to fail him.
Dad’s eyes fall to where Baldo’s hand wraps around mine the minute we enter the kitchen.
Massi’s daughter, Ali, is crawling on the floor, and baby Micah is crying in the other room.
Syd, Lo, Gina and Gio’s Mila are helping Mom at the island.
The rest of the group is outside.
Dad frowns, his eyes darting from me to our linked hands. And then he looks at Mom, who stands frozen, her lips set in a straight line.
“Mom, Dad, can we talk to you?”
Lo groans. “We’re never going to eat.”
“Shut up,” Baldo snaps.
“Let them be, for fuck’s sake,” Sydney berates her at the same time. “Let’s go outside and give them some privacy.”
Gina scoops up her little girl and everyone scurries away.
Nausea swims through me, and I’m probably drawing blood as I dig my nails into Baldo’s hand.
Without thinking, my other hand moves, bringing my thumb to my teeth, but I drop it and take a deep breath.
“Dad, Mom, I know this is something you had a hard time accepting ten years ago, but we’re adults now, and I hope you can trust that it’s not just some teenage rebellion.”
I pause. My gaze flits around, but I square my shoulders and look my dad in the eyes.
“We’re in love.”
Baldo brings our connected hands to his lips and kisses my knuckles.
Dad’s expression remains solemn. But at least it’s not anger.
“Micah, I’m in love with your daughter. And I intend to spend the rest of my life with her.”
“Him?” Dad utters, looking at me with a disbelief and disappointment that shocks me.
Until now, I couldn’t quite imagine that he really sent Baldo away back then, but his expression is full of hurt and something fierce I don’t recognize.
Baldo snorts. “What do you have against me, Dad?”
I flinch, and Mom steps closer. It almost looks like she is going to join Dad, who is holding the armrests of his wheelchair with a white-knuckled force, but then she stops.
She halts between her husband and her son, not choosing sides this time.
“I will never forget the state she came home in that night. She didn’t want to tell us, but she was hurt and bleeding, and didn’t speak for days or leave her room.”
“And you didn’t let me near her.” Baldo tries and fails to rein in his voice.
He drops my hand and rakes both his hands through his hair, shaking his head.
“After what you did to her? I wouldn’t risk you getting close again. You had the nerve to show your face here again two days later,” Dad shouts.
Oh my God. He thought…
“So you conveniently assumed I hurt her? What the fuck?”
“And what else was I to think? You kept sneaking into her room with your raging teenage hormones.”
Baldo shakes his head again and looks at his mom. “And you believed that too. You believed that I would ever hurt Brook. Any woman, for that matter? You fucking took his side.”
“Don’t you talk to you mother like that.” Dad’s voice slices through the air. “I will never forget the night my little girl came home, scared and hurt, and she asked if you were home. She was relieved that you weren’t, and she retreated to her room. What did you do to her?”
“I can’t believe you would both jump to that conclusion. That I’m the monster.”
They continue screaming at each other, no longer making sense, just throwing insults.
The shouting only gets louder. I cover my ears.
Don’t they realize I’m right here?
Don’t they realize they are talking about the worst night of my life?
Don’t they realize what a big misunderstanding it has been?
“Skittles,” I shout, and everyone freezes.
Baldo turns to me, bewildered. But then his expression softens. “Fuck, Brook, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lose it.”
I sigh, because I don’t know what to say. I wish he hadn’t lost it either, but this is not only about me or us.
This is about him and his parents as well. And I don’t think we can separate all those layers. But we can try to have a respectful conversation.
“Dad, you made the wrong assumption. Looking back, I can see how that happened, but that doesn’t excuse your behavior. I don’t want to talk about that night anymore. It’s painful, and I think it’s time to look forward, not backward.
“You told me not so long ago how Mommy regretted that she never reconciled with Roberta. How family was the most important thing for her. You told me that time with people who matter is up there as the most important thing. Baldo matters to me, and if you can’t accept that, we’ll have to leave.”
“Nobody is leaving,” Mom thunders. “We’re going to throw the steaks on the grill and enjoy each other’s company. And if the two of you need to sit on opposite sides of the table, so be it. This family is large enough to create a buffer between you.”
Holy shit, I almost forgot how formidable Mom is. How nobody ever contradicts her.
She raises her eyebrows, glaring Dad down. He sighs and nods. Then she turns to Baldo.
His jaw ticks as he taps his fingers on his thigh. He looks at me and his expression softens. “What can I help with?”
And just like that, the loud clan of the Cassinetti-Lowe family resumes the commotion and starts the late dinner.
And I get to spend time with the two most important men in my life. Even though they glower at each other.