Chapter Six
Sue
The following morning, the weather was still three shades of Arctic tundra—cold, white, and depressing. Especially since, against my will, the girls were dragging me hat shopping for the Easter parade.
Around ten-thirty, Jesse and I made our way to the coffee shop.
I’d worn the lumberjack outfit again, knowing she would probably be dressed the same way.
It was too frigging cold to worry about fashion.
As we walked along, I regaled her with last night’s adventures with the boys next door, my nose slightly out of joint at her lack of indignation on my behalf.
“You could at least commiserate with me,” I complained.
“Why? It’s hilarious.”
“I was so embarrassed. I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to look either one of them in the face again.”
“Don’t worry about Sebastian.” Her mouth became a thin, straight line. “Believe me. He’s seen it all—probably done it all, too. Who’s the other guy you’re all bent out of shape about?”
One of these days, I would insist on knowing what had set her off about Sebastian. But now I was dying to talk about Cam.
“His name is Cameron Jones. He’s staying with Sebastian until he finds his own place.”
“So how did you meet him?”
“Making an idiot of myself, of course.” I explained about Mrs. H and the chocolate chips, not bothering to elaborate on the date. There was just so much stupid I would admit to on the same weekend. “He wanted Sebastian’s extra key and there I stood, my face encased in a pink cement face mask.”
We’d stopped walking because she was bent over with laughter.
“Oh my God! You and your home facials. You can take the girl out of the country, but you can’t take the country out of the girl.
And the porn… There isn’t a woman in all of NYC who would just walk in on her neighbor like that.
I bet you got an eyeful!” She laughed once more.
“So tell me more about this guy. Is he cute?”
“Cute? No.” I sighed. “He’s so much better than cute.
He takes the tall, dark, and handsome cliché to new heights.
I think he’s close to my age, maybe early thirties.
He’s everything I want in a man, kind, gorgeous, employed—although I’m not sure what he does.
He’s some sort of entrepreneur.” I waved the thought away.
“Doesn’t matter. He sees me as the klutzy-girl-next-door type.
That first night, he got out of my apartment fast enough to give himself whiplash, and yesterday after he helped with my bags, he disappeared into his apartment before I could even offer him a drink.
Unfortunately, I’m going to see even more of him since he’s also on that damn parent committee filling in for his sister-in-law. ”
“There’s a bonus. You’ll get to spend more time with him and redeem yourself.”
I pushed open the door to the coffee shop. Lily and Ange sat at a table.
“Hi, where’s Nikki?” I removed my jacket and placed it on the back of a chair.
“Stuck at the lab,” Lily answered. “She’ll catch up with us later.” She gave me a closer look. “You didn’t get enough sleep, did you?”
Jesse snorted. “She’s got some adventures to share, don’t you, hon?”
I rolled my eyes, knowing she wouldn’t let me be until I told them everything about Cam, Sam, and the porn. Three pairs of wide eyes were glued on me as I sipped my coffee and told them about my adventures.
By the time I finished, the girls were almost on the floor, holding their stomachs. If they hadn’t been my best friends I would have been really pissed off at them for laughing so hard at my expense.
“And here I thought you needed fixing up,” Ange said. “No wonder you didn’t like Sam, it sounds like you’re in lust with Cam.”
I pressed my lips together. I couldn’t deny that. Instead, I drained my coffee and stood.
“How about we get this over with?”
I dropped my empty cup and bitter sarcasm into the recycling bin. While I didn’t loathe shopping, this was one trip I would prefer to skip.
As it turned out, I had been right to dread this particular venture.
By twelve-thirty, I’d tried on almost every hat in the store.
There had been bucket hats that were either too big or too small, turbans in every imaginable color, size, and pattern, some with gemstones, fake fruit, or feathers attached to them.
One of them made me look like I’d collided with a fruit truck.
I’d tried on ball caps, flat caps, and visor beret caps that had looked promising until I put them on and the only thing keeping them above my eyes were my ears.
Upon my head, Ange had perched a plethora of fedoras, wide brim sunhats, festival hats, bowlers, cloches, and derbies.
The absolute worse had been the feather fascinator that resembled a life-sized swan.
I didn’t care if the damn thing laid golden eggs, enough was enough.
There was a limit to how far I would go for my friends, and I’d reached it.
“That’s it.” I folded my arms over my chest. “I’m done trying.”
“You’re being too picky,” Lily said. “What about that pale blue feathered headband? It was cute.”
I frowned. “For the lead role in Swan Lake maybe. Ballet was never my forte. As my dad put it, I had all the grace and elegance of un cucciolo di ippopotamo. That’s a baby hippo. He teased with love, but there is some truth to that.”
Ange rolled her eyes at me. “Don’t listen to Papa Morelli. I’m not giving up on you. I won’t consider this a failure, but a strategic withdrawal.”
I shook my head. “Come on. If I even look at another hat today, I’ll puke.”
* * *
It was just before five when I dragged my exhausted body up the stairs and unlocked the door to my apartment. Tossing my purse on the counter, I removed my coat and boots and padded into the kitchen.
Since Sunday night was my night to call home, I rarely made plans that might interfere with that ritual. Generally, when talking to Mom and Dad, I started out nostalgic for home, and ended up grateful I’d escaped with my dignity more or less intact.
As a rule, I called at six, knowing that, by then, my parents would be finished working for the day, as well as my brother, Paul, and his wife, Michelle. Mom served dinner promptly at seven, so they wouldn’t be eating yet. Like any Italian, Dad hated having his meals interrupted.
I settled on the sofa, pressed the familiar speed dial button, and waited for my mother to pick up. It rang three times, then I heard my mother’s voice, cool as a chilled Chianti.
“Hello, Susanne.” She rarely shortened my name. “How was your week?”
“It was good, Mom—well, except for the storm on Friday.”
Weather was the safest topic. I filled her in on stuff from school and avoided mentioning Cam or Sam. None of the excitement in my life made it past my internal censors.
“I went hat shopping with the girls today for the Easter Parade,” I finished. “I’m sorry you won’t get a chance to see it.”
Mom chuckled. “Actually… I’m going to put you on speaker. Your father and I have news.”
“Ciao, bambina!” My father’s voice filled the room—a jovial tenor sound that would have made Pavarotti proud.
“Hi, Papa.” A smile crept into my voice. I’d always been closer to my father than any other member of my family.
Mom spoke again, excitement bubbling in her usually composed tone. “We’re coming to New York City for Easter! Isn’t that wonderful? Michelle and I can come to the parade.”
I choked on the mouthful of beer and felt the blood leave my face.
Wonderful? It was a freaking nightmare!
I swallowed the panic threatening to choke me.
This was not wonderful news. This was a disaster of epic proportions!
I loved my family, truly, but I didn’t want them anywhere near New York.
This was my sanctuary. The Fortress of Sue-tude.
My one safe space away from small-town gossip, Neil’s smug face, and Mom’s mission to marry me off as though I was in a Jane Austen reboot.
“Mom, that’s… that’s amazing… I don’t know what to say. I’d love to put you up here, but I only have one bedro—”
“Don’t be silly,” Michelle said. “Dad and Paul are attending a winery machinery convention. We’ll arrive on Thursday and leave Monday. We’ll be staying at the Fraser Arms, three blocks from Time Square.”
I let out the breath I’d been strangling on. Okay, so maybe this wasn’t the actual end of the world. If they were booked into a hotel and had a full itinerary, maybe I could steer them clear of my love life—or lack thereof.
I cleared my throat. “That sounds wonderful, Mom. You and Michelle can join us at the parade. Then, we can all go out to dinner.”
“As long as it’s real food,” my dad said. “None of that fake meat and seaweed.”
I chuckled and rolled my eyes. “Yes, Papa. We have beef in Manhattan. I’ll even take you to Little Italy. Real Italian food, I promise.”
“And we can ask Neil to join us for dinner,” my mother said.
“He’ll be at the convention, too. You heard he and Sally are getting a divorce?
I can’t imagine why. Neil is such a lovely young man.
Anyway, he’s single again, and you aren’t getting any younger.
Those ovaries will shrivel before you know it. ”
“Oh for God’s sake, Elaine.” My father sounded half-exasperated, half-amused. “Let the girl be. Monica Bellucci had her kids at forty and forty-five. Us Italians—we take our time, we do things with passion. Not everything’s a rush to the altar and a nursery full of bambinos.”
“Passion doesn’t stop your biological clock,” Mom muttered.
“Neither does nagging,” Dad retorted.
I could’ve kissed him.
I should have known my ovaries would be mentioned. I was only thirty, for Heaven’s sake! She made it sound as if I were in my fifties. And that crack about Neil, seriously? How could she think I wanted Sally’s cast-offs? He’d probably done to her what the two of them did to me.
I huffed out a breath, straining my brain for an excuse not to have dinner with good old Neil.