When It Falls Apart (The D'Angelos, #1)(51)

“Yes.”

“And Francesca lives with you until she gets married?”

“Of course.” Although the thought of his daughter and dating—let alone marriage—made him nauseous.

“That’s sexist.”

“I like to think of it as tradition.”

“A sexist tradition.”

“It’s Italian. It’s family. It’s expected. I know they might have other ideas, but . . . it’s an option.”

Brooke leaned against the counter, slid a piece of pepperoni she’d sliced for the salad into her mouth. “I’m glad you found the word option. Although I’m fairly certain you’d fight with Chloe or Francesca if they wanted to exercise that choice.”

Luca walked over to Brooke, reached around her to grab a piece of pepperoni for himself, and leaned against her when he did. “I like to keep the women in my life nearby,” he said, his lips close to hers.

“Is that right?”

He touched his lips to hers, briefly, then pulled back and put the food in his mouth. “And safe.”

“And what keeps me safe from you?” Brooke asked.

He looked her up and down. Messy from a full day of work, tired from the long drive, and beautiful from head to toe. “Nothing, I hope.”



“The rules here are stupid.”

Brooke sat in the courtyard of the assisted living home with her father, who had to find something to bitch about.

“A lot of things in life are stupid. Suck it up.” She wasn’t about to sugarcoat anything.

“You’re t-testy.”

“I finished getting the rest of your stuff out of the condo yesterday. Would it have hurt you to throw anything away, Dad?”

He shrugged without apology.

“Your dead father’s tax returns from the fifties. Seriously?”

“I was going . . . going to.”

“And every greeting card ever sent for every holiday . . . ever!”

“People don’t do that any-anymore. It’s email and a text.”

Brooke nodded. “I did keep a box of pictures. Maybe you can tell me who the people are.”

He didn’t appear interested.

“When do I see the doctor again? I’m taking too many pills.”

“I’m working on finding new doctors for you down here.” Actually, she’d put that on the sideline. His current doctors had given her a six-month supply of his prescription medication to give her time to get him situated with new providers.

“You look better,” she told him. “Eating three healthy meals a day is working for you.”

“Food isn’t bad,” he relented.

“Finally . . . something positive from you.”

“I’m trying.”

“So am I, Dad. Trust me. Some days are harder than others.” And after finding the letters she’d written to him so many years ago, letters begging for his attention and love only to get so little in return, and only when it was easy and convenient for him . . . today was really freaking hard to sit there and listen to him complain about anything.

The thirty-minute visit was over in no time.

He complained.

She was thankful to have an excuse to leave.

The next time she came, she’d have to take him out for a haircut. And lunch, he told her.

Brooke agreed and hugged him goodbye.

In the car, she gave herself a moment.

When she opened her eyes, she looked around.

She really needed to get rid of her father’s car.

She needed the condo money first.

Her dad needed a new doctor.

And Brooke needed a month in the Bahamas.



Luca noticed Brooke as she tried to slide past the open door to the restaurant and up the stairs to her apartment.

But he’d been watching for her.

He ducked around the help in the kitchen, dusting his hands on his apron as he followed her into the stairway.

“Cara?”

He liked that she turned at the sound of his voice, at his pet name for her, and smiled.

“Hey.”

A few steps up and he was beside her. “How did it go?”

She sighed. “Frustrating. But okay.”

He pushed back a lock of her hair that had fallen out of place and tucked it behind her ear. “Did you tell him about the letters?”

“No.”

“Will you?”

“I don’t know. That’s all in the past. A lot happened between then and now.”

He rested his hand on her arm. “But it still affects you.”

“A little.”

Her smile did a number on his stomach.

“Don’t you have better things to be doing right now than standing here with me?” she asked.

Luca leaned closer. “No,” he said. “Not at all.” When she didn’t back away, he pressed his lips to hers.

Slow, even pressure until she opened and moved forward.

Her response was exactly what he wanted.

Assurance that the day before hadn’t been a fluke, that she was still willing and anxious to be in his arms.

Her fingers slid up his chest, and Luca caught his breath.

He eased his lips from hers, watched as she sucked in her lower lip. “Hmmm.”