When It Falls Apart (The D'Angelos, #1)(39)

The one she worried the most for was her Luca.

She never liked Francesca’s mother. A woman whose name seldom passed her lips.

She’d proven her true colors soon enough, and Luca was left picking up the pieces of his heart and taking on the challenge of bringing up a child alone. Though in truth, they were all better off that Antonia wasn’t a part of their lives.

Francesca most of all.

But Luca needed more.

Each year he grew further apart from the world.

Yes, he took care of his daughter, his family.

But he didn’t smile as much, or as wide when he did.

Never once did she find a little white lie in his answer to where he’d been or what he was doing when she asked.

Her firstborn needed someone to share his life with. And Francesca needed brothers and sisters.

“Amore mio,” she whispered to the shadows in the room. “If you can help me out here, I’d appreciate it.”

Mari brushed off her thoughts and worked her way outside.

A coffee with Rosa, a little gossip . . . that’s what she needed.

Mari stepped out onto the busy street in front of the restaurant and felt a cold draft pass in front of her.

She turned.

Luca and Francesca were walking her way, hand in hand.

And on the other side of her precious granddaughter walked Brooke.

Mari stood still and watched as the air grew cool around her.

Francesca glanced up at Brooke and reached for her hand.

Mari held her breath.

Brooke accepted Franny’s hand instantly, and her questioning gaze looked over at Luca.

Mari’s son offered a brief smile, but worry sat squarely between his eyes.

Then, Francesca said something, and they both looked down and together they smiled and laughed.

Mari held a hand to her chest and sent up a prayer to whoever was listening.





CHAPTER THIRTEEN


A sharp knock on her door interrupted Brooke’s concentration. “Come in,” she called, thinking it must be close to dinnertime and the food fairy . . . aka Luca, was sending something up again.

She’d forced herself to stop thinking about him most of the afternoon to get some work done and had been somewhat successful. It helped that she was way behind and if she didn’t finish the revisions on the soap campaign by the weekend, she’d have some serious problems at work.

Instead of a runner being at the door with a to-go bag, Chloe walked in with nothing more than a smile. “Hi.”

“Oh, hello. This is a surprise.”

“I know. I thought maybe I could pull you away for a happy hour drink. A little one-on-one time to get to know each other.”

Brooke glanced at her computer, at the work in front of her. She should say no. “That would be great.”

“Perfect.”

A few minutes later they were walking down the stairs and out the back door.

They walked into Little Italy’s main piazza, which was peppered with tables and people spilling out from restaurants. Some with to-go food containers, others with drinks for their meals.

“Did you want to find a seat out here?” Brooke asked, searching the square for an open table.

Chloe shook her head. “Not necessary.”

They ascended the stairs of one of the busier bars on the street and stopped at the hostess.

Chloe and the woman spoke, in Italian, and hugged like old friends. Then they were escorted to the far end of an upstairs bar where they could actually hear each other and not have to hang off their barstools.

The place was crazy busy, a lot of young people enjoying happy hour.

“I take it you know the hostess.”

“I know everyone in this town,” Chloe said without apology.

“Is that a good thing?”

“It was fine until I hit puberty and started dating. Then everyone became a mama, a nonna, or just a meddling neighbor.”

“Matchmakers everywhere?”

“Oh my God, yes. I’m twenty-five and you’d think my uterus is drying up from the way they talk.”

If Chloe’s was drying up, Brooke’s was mummified.

The waitress arrived and greeted Chloe with a hug. “Salena, this is Brooke, she rents the apartment upstairs from us.”

Salena was older than Chloe by a couple of years, but just as Italian and just as beautiful.

“Yes, your brother told me your mama had rented the place. Welcome,” Salena offered to Brooke.

“Thank you.”

“What are we drinking tonight? The sangria is fresh,” she said.

Chloe put a hand in the air. “I’m sold.” She turned to Brooke. “They have the best sangria on the block.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.”

“Two sangrias, coming right up.”

As Salena walked away, Chloe leaned in. “Be sure and tell people you’re a local. Most of the time you’ll get a discount. Even in the retail stores. Eventually everyone will know who you are, but in the meantime . . .”

“Good to know.”

“Perks of a small town in a big city.”

That made Brooke laugh. “San Diego doesn’t feel like a big city.”

“It’s not Rome.”

“Have you been?”