Chapter 6
“Mom…” Jasmine let her voice die away. It wasn’t like it was going to do any good, anyway. Not when her mother had already invited Nathan for lunch.
“Yes, dear?” Mom turned to Jasmine in the foyer of Bridgeview Bible Church. “Did you need something?”
Jasmine darted her gaze to Nathan then back to her mother, who stood patiently waiting.
“No, it’s okay.” She’d told Nathan she’d forgiven him, right?
That meant she should be able to stand seeing him around.
And she should have suspected it would also mean seeing him included at her parents’ table from time to time.
After all, he and Basil were apparently good friends.
It still kind of stung that Basil hadn’t bothered to let her know.
Jasmine pinched the bridge of her nose. No. She was over it. Over him.
“Thanks very much for the invitation, Mrs. Santoro.”
Of course he was coming. Had she expected anything different?
Mom patted Nathan’s arm and smiled at him. “It’s good to see you back in Bridgeview. You’ll have to tell us everything you’ve been up to since you moved to California. ”
Oh, no, not everything. Jasmine didn’t want to know. And had her mother really forgotten the way Nathan had jilted her when he’d run off? No matter how she tried to deal with his presence back in her life over the past couple of weeks, it was just about impossible.
Time. Time would cure everything. But how much of it?
Another eight years? Because she’d really like to fall in love, get married, and have kids someday.
And, although women in their thirties could certainly have children, she’d rather not wait until then to get started.
Not if it took that long to get over Nathan. .. again.
Behind Nathan, Basil smirked at her. Maybe that’s whom she should focus on not forgiving. No, she meant forgiving . Her own brother. It still felt like he’d stabbed her in the back.
“Who is this we have here?”
Jasmine turned at the sound of her grandmother’s voice. “Hi, Nonna.”
“You are coming for lunch, too, Mamma?” Jasmine’s mom patted her mother-in-law’s hand. “I’m so glad to see you are finally over that terrible cold you had.”
Nonna eyed Nathan. “Yes, yes. I thought my time on earth might be done, and I have so much yet to do. I am not ready to die.”
Jasmine stifled a giggle. With her grandmother, it was all drama. Every part of every day.
Nonna hadn’t taken her gaze off Nathan yet. “Introduce me to your friend.”
Well, that let Jasmine off the hook. Nathan was no friend of hers.
“Mamma, this is Nathan. Do you remember him?” Mom’s gaze flitted to Jasmine then away.
Thanks a lot. If you remembered the connection, you shouldn’t have just asked him for dinner.
Nonna’s eyes narrowed and her finger stabbed the air in Nathan’s direction. “It is you. You dare to show your face in Bridgeview after you broke my granddaughter’s heart?”
Oh, boy.
Nathan reached for Nonna’s hand with both of his. “I’m older and wiser now, Mrs. Santoro.”
“Marietta.”
Nathan dipped his head in acknowledgment. “Marietta. I’ve apologized to your granddaughter, and she has forgiven me.”
Nonna pulled her hand away from Nathan as her gaze swung to Jasmine’s. “Forgiven him? But you cried so many tears.”
Why, oh why, had she indulged in that torrent in her nonna’s arms that night eight years back?
Some people might be able to put the past behind them, but Nonna wasn’t one of them.
She remembered everything, and she was nothing if not loyal to her grandchildren.
In fact, Jasmine might be Nonna’s very favorite.
A girl after her grandmother’s own heart.
All of which wasn’t particularly helpful just now, though. Not with Basil snickering behind his hand, and Nathan looking serious and apologetic all over again as he glanced between her and her grandmother.
Mom reached for Nonna again. “You are coming, yes, Mamma? I have made ravioli from the recipe you shared with me many years ago. I know it is one of your favorites.”
It was one of Jasmine’s favorites, too. Even if she really didn’t feel like facing Nathan, she couldn’t very well turn away the famous Santoro ravioli.
“Not today. Today I go to Dino’s house for lunch. Betta has already persuaded me.” Nonna’s finger stabbed toward Nathan. “Did I hear you invite that boy?”
Nathan might have been little more than a boy when he’d escaped from her life eight years back, but the word didn’t really fit him anymore.
No, the Nathan that stood before her was definitely not an unsure adolescent.
He’d grown up. He exuded masculinity from the soles of his black shoes to the gelled lift of his short blond hair. All man.
“Yes, of course Nathan is coming, too.” Mom had the grace to shoot a look of apology at Jasmine. “He’s living in Alex’s house, after all. I can’t just exclude him.”
“It’s okay, Mrs. Santoro. I don’t live with Alex and Basil and Peter. Not exactly. I have the basement all to myself, and it has a kitchen.” He glanced at Jasmine. “I’m happy to fix my own lunch.”
Mom swept her hand as though getting rid of all those words. “Nonsense. I have invited you, and you will come. You are a friend of Basil and welcome in our home. You should know by now that our door is always open to our children’s friends.”
And that part was true. How many times had the whole youth group hung out in the Santoro family room when Jasmine and her brothers had been teenagers?
Constantly. That’s when she’d met her own roommate, Linnea, who had been in Alex’s class back then.
Everything would be fine. Her mom wouldn’t let anything get out of hand over a simple Sunday lunch.
Everything would be fine. She’d soon get used to seeing Nathan around Bridgeview, and then it wouldn’t be a problem anymore. Right? She could only hope.
Nathan lay on the floor of the Santoros’ living room, marveling once again at what a large close family could look like.
Did Marco and Daria always come to Sunday dinner at his parents’ house, even though they’d been married for probably ten years and had three kids?
And Basil, Alex, and Evan… although Evan still lived here, as he was attending university. And Jasmine.
Why had he thought he was completely over Jasmine? Probably only because he wanted to be. Because he’d dated constantly since he left Spokane with her in the rearview mirror. Hadn’t that been proof?
He’d wager a bet that the scene at Peter’s parents’ house looked different, even though his friend always went home for Sunday lunch. Nathan still couldn’t believe his kid brother had knocked up Peter’s little sister. And abandoned her. What a scummy brat.
Something stilled inside Nathan. He hadn’t left any girl pregnant, had he?
Surely not. He’d been careful, as far as he remembered, and besides, they would’ve told him if protection failed.
He would’ve done the right thing by the mother of his child, wouldn’t he?
Mind you, Connor was only seventeen himself.
“Oomph.” All the breath left Nathan’s lungs as three-year-old Arie bounced on his back. The little boy had already taken a tumble that required a steri-strip bandage.
“Git up, horsey!” Arie bounced one more time on Nathan’s back.
Nathan rolled over, taking the child with him. “Hey, partner. Watch where you’re kicking those spurs.” He tickled the little boy until Arie begged for mercy.
“You’re a glutton for punishment.” Alex laughed from the easy chair near the kitchen doorway .
Yeah, he was, and it wasn’t because of young Arie.
Beyond Alex, he could hear women’s voices.
Jasmine, her mom, and Daria had stayed in the kitchen.
Grace Santoro had booted Nathan out of the room when he’d offered to help clean up.
Hey, he’d been sincere. He’d been on his own long enough to know that dishes did not magically get washed and put themselves away just because he wished for it to happen.
Now he strained to hear what they were talking about.
Was it his imagination, or had he heard Daria mention his name?
“It’s not like that.” Jasmine’s voice.
Nathan tried to hear more, but only a faint murmur reached his ears.
“Then why haven’t you—?”
Whatever Daria had been about to say was cut off in the clatter of dishes.
Were they talking about him? Had he made a big mistake returning to Bridgeview?
He’d already been contemplating leaving Los Angeles before he and Basil got chatting on Facebook that evening a couple of months back.
He’d been tired of the big city, of the fallout from the biggest mistake of his life, and, yes, of all the women in his life. It had seemed time for a fresh start.
Now he wanted to cuff himself up the side of the head.
A fresh start did not mean returning to his roots, having coffee with his father and wife number four, and opening up old wounds with Jasmine.
She’d agreed they could get along for the sake of the business, but before he’d driven all the way back from California, that question had not even entered his mind.
Yeah, he’d looked her up on Facebook, but he hadn’t really expected there to be any feelings — positive or negative — flailing about.
He hadn’t expected his mere presence to agitate her so much.
And he certainly hadn’t expected seeing her again to spark anything inside of himself.
Whatever they’d had was water under the Maple Street bridge eight years ago.
Those feelings should be so far downstream by now that they’d circled with the North Pacific current at least twice. And, yet, that’s not what had happened.
The voices from the kitchen rose higher, but just as they did, Ray Santoro spoke up. “It’s good to see you back in Bridgeview, son.”
Nathan’s heart clenched at the casual word.
“The boys tell me that your marketing won several awards in California. Congratulations.”
Nathan pulled himself to sitting cross-legged on the living room floor, tugging young Arie into his lap with a tickle. “Thank you, sir. I have enough savings to live on for a while, but I’m on the lookout for more clients than your children.”
“Well, I’m not in charge of marketing for the airlines.” Ray chuckled. “But I can put the word out among my entrepreneurial friends.”
“That would be awesome. It seems I don’t know a lot of people around here anymore, not that I’m opposed to cold calling. After all, that’s pretty much how I built my reputation in Los Angeles.”
Basil leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as his hands clasped together.
“You should check out Hailey and Kass down at Bridgeview Bakery and Bistro. Hailey mentioned something the other day about looking for ideas on how to expand their business now that they are approaching their third anniversary.”
Nathan shot his friend a look. He remembered all too well how Peter had urged all the guys to leave the bistro the other evening as Hailey minced toward their table.
Not that Basil and Peter’s opinions had to mesh.
They didn’t seem to in any other way, so this should be no different.
Did he really want to willingly meet up with a woman whom all the guys talked about as being desperate for a relationship?
“A guy like you, with your kind of brains, should have no trouble coming up with something innovative for them,” commented Basil.
Business was business, right? If he wasn’t going to allow the situation with Jasmine to affect him and the way he conducted his work, then he should be willing to walk into the bistro in a businesslike manner as well.
If Hailey came on to him, well, he knew how to turn a girl down.
Not that he’d done it very often. A slight burn heated his cheeks.
He’d usually just gone with the flow and extricated himself later on.
He’d been trying to live differently since he’d begun exploring faith, and being back in Bridgeview closed the door firmly on his old lifestyle, at least if he wanted the respect of his friends.
The respect of Jasmine. Why did he even care what she thought? That sure hadn’t ruled his life for the last eight years. He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly as he met Basil’s gaze. “Good plan. I’ll look them up and see if they’re interested in a consultation. Know anyone else?”
“There’s Ranta Landscaping,” put in Alex. “You probably remember Dan from high school. His dad had a heart attack last fall, and Dan took over the family business.”
“Dan Ranta?” Hadn’t that been the kid voted least likely to succeed? The kid brother of know-it-all Dave Junior? “I can look him up, for sure. If he’s just getting started on his own, he might be open to some ideas.”
“I can ask over at the jiu jitsu academy,” said Marco from his spot on the sofa.
He sat between his older boys while they wielded controllers in a game where shooting aliens seemed to take center stage.
Thankfully their headsets kept the staccato noise away from everyone else, or Nathan wouldn’t have heard a word coming out of the kitchen.
Not that he knew what to do with the few snippets he’d caught.
Basil’s gaze grew shrewd. “Maybe Jasmine could use some help marketing her massage clinic.”
“Get real, bro.”
Nathan swiveled on the floor to see Jasmine framed in the kitchen doorway.
She shot daggers at her older brother. “I have enough clients, thanks. Especially now that I’m hoping to phase out of it in the next two years.”
Basil smirked. “But wouldn’t it be easier to sell a robust, thriving business in two years than one you’d let drift along?”
By Jasmine’s raised eyebrows and pointed glare, Nathan guessed that wasn’t high on her list of worries at the moment.
“Give it up, Basil. Quit interfering with my life, and grow up already.”
Basil shrugged, the smirk still on his face. “Whatever you say, sis. Just trying to help.”
“That’ll be the day,” Jasmine muttered. “You haven’t had my best interest at heart since we were babies.”
“Anything we need to discuss?” asked Ray Santoro.
Jasmine’s gaze swung to her father. “No thanks, Dad. I’ve said my piece to Basil. Daria and I are headed out for a walk. See you all later.”
Nathan felt a tinge of disappointment as she pulled her light jacket from the entryway closet. But that was ridiculous. There was nothing between him and Jasmine but bad memories. There hadn’t been for a long time, and there never would be.