When It Falls Apart (The D'Angelos, #1)(40)

“To Roma?” Chloe used the proper name for the city.

“Yes.”

“Before my father passed.” Chloe looked away, lost in a memory. “I’ve been to Tuscany more. Florence. Which is bigger than San Diego, yet more intimate . . . if that’s possible.”

Brooke sighed into the memories of her travels. “I agree.”

“You’ve been there, too.”

“I’ve been a lot of places. My ex was a travel blogger. Our first year together I think my feet were in America for maybe five months.” It seemed so long ago.

“Sounds exciting. I love traveling.”

The sangria arrived along with a small bowl of olives.

“I want to go to Bali,” Chloe continued. “There is a yoga teachers’ retreat there I plan on attending.”

“What’s stopping you?”

“The restaurant needed staff and it hasn’t felt right to leave. But I’m anxious to do something different. Make my mark on this world.”

Brooke lifted the wine to her lips. “I remember that time.” She took a sip, nodded. “This is really good.”

“You don’t want to make your mark anymore?” Chloe asked.

“Half the time I just want to get through my day without needing a nap.”

“You’re too young to say that.”

For the next ten minutes, Brooke offered Chloe the digest version of the situation with her father and how she was managing his life and juggling hers.

“You’re an only child?” Chloe asked when Brooke was done explaining.

“No, not really. I have a half brother on my mother’s side. And my dad did have a son with a different mother early on, but my dad wasn’t great about taking responsibility, so they have no relationship. I don’t even know him. Couldn’t tell you if he’s alive or dead.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No.” Brooke took a sip of her wine. “I have a stepsister. A sister whose mother was my father’s fourth wife.”

“Fourth?”

Brooke shook her head with a grin. “You asked.”

“Oh my God.”

“You know the really crazy thing?”

“There’s more?”

Brooke nibbled on an olive. “I didn’t even know my dad until I was a teenager. My mother moved us to Seattle, cut all ties. He didn’t bother trying to fight to see me.” Okay, this train of conversation needed to stop. All it ever brought was grief and sorrow. “Enough of that.”

“Damn, Brooke. That sucks. I can’t even imagine. And yet you’re still doing so much for him.”

“I’m all he has,” she explained. “And he’s been a decent father as an adult. He wasn’t there for me growing up, but he’s been around since.”

Chloe reached out a hand, set it on top of Brooke’s. “Family is the most important thing.”

“Some families.”

“What about your mother?”

Brooke lifted her glass, changed the subject. “Maybe we should grab an appetizer with these.”

Chloe cringed. “Bad topic?”

“There isn’t enough sangria in all of Little Italy to discuss my mother.”

She leaned back. “The bruschetta here is good. Not as good as ours, but it will soak up the wine.”

A second glass of sangria in hand and the restaurant had picked up, along with the noise level.

For the first time in weeks, Brooke felt truly relaxed. She hadn’t even checked her phone. Just the thought had her reaching for her purse, and she stopped.

No.

Someone would call her if there was an issue.

With her head slightly buzzed from the wine, Brooke ventured into the topic of Luca.

“If it’s not too much to ask . . . what’s your brother’s story?”

Chloe paused as a slow grin spread over her face. “Giovanni?”

Brooke snorted a laugh, picked up her glass. “No. Not Gio. Luca.”

“You like my brother,” Chloe said, point blank.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You’re asking about him.”

“He’s charming. And has been very helpful. Franny is adorable . . . I can’t help but wonder about her mother.”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “Save your questions about Antonia for Luca. I won’t say anything about her except that none of us cared for her. And since she’s not here for Franny, I suppose that speaks for itself.”

“I was wondering about that. So, she’s still alive? Franny’s mom?” Antonia. Brooke made a mental note of the woman’s name.

“Yes. And Luca has moved away from that time, but not moved on.”

That shot up a big red flag in Brooke’s head. “He still loves her.”

“God, no. He just isn’t willing to be the flirtatious man he was before he was a father. I was a teenager when my niece was born, but I remember the joy he had in life, the zest. Right after Francesca arrived, he was just as animated, and then all that ended. I couldn’t even tell you why, so don’t ask.”

Brooke narrowed her eyes. “Luca has his stoic moments, but he seems to smile a lot to me.”

“Around you,” Chloe corrected.