When It Falls Apart (The D'Angelos, #1)(75)

“Be reasonable, Luca.”

He thought of Brooke. “I am. You’re seeing Franny at the park after school today. That’s what this is all about. Not me paying for your room and board.”

“Now I don’t think I can do that today. I’m going to have to find a place to stay, aren’t I?”

“Excuse me?” Luca stopped in front of the window in his living room, shaking his head.

“You could have given me more notice. I don’t want to miss an opportunity to see Francesca, but you leave me little choice.”

This was rich. He felt her manipulative fingers weaving in like they had so many times in the past. “Your choice.”

Her voice softened. “Luca?”

“Ciao.”

“Luca!”

He hung up.

His phone immediately rang. Antonia’s name popped up.

And a knock sounded on his door.

“Come in.”

Brooke peeked inside and Luca set his ringing phone on the kitchen counter. “Good morning.”

She was a breath of fresh air. Although her eyes looked a little heavy from a lack of restful sleep. “Good morning.”

“I wanted to stop by and say thank you for the flowers. They’re beautiful.”

“My pathetic attempt to remind you I care and I’m sorry for making you think otherwise.” He walked over to her, unsure if he was welcome to take her into his arms.

“It’s certainly a start.”

She was smiling, and that was better than the night before. “I have more than flowers in my romance toolbox.”

“You don’t have to buy my affection.”

“Who said anything about buying? I make a fantastic macaroni necklace.”

Now she was laughing.

“Oh, bella, it’s so good to see you smile.”

He reached for her.

She let him.

“I’m glad you’re home,” he said quietly.

“I am, too.”

He leaned closer. “Can I welcome you properly now?”

She lifted her lips to his with a nod.

Thank God.

So sweet, so soft . . . like spring rain and butterflies. He let their kiss linger, savoring every second, every tiny noise she made.

When he did pull away, she whispered, “Hello.”

“Mmmm.”

“I can’t stay,” she said with a sigh. “I have to take my dad for a haircut. He called me three times while I was in Texas.”

“Cara, why didn’t you ask for my help? I could have done that for you.”

“You haven’t even met my father.”

“That doesn’t matter.”

She stepped back. “It’s only hair. He could wait.”

Luca ran his hands down her shoulders, her arms, and grasped her hands. “Will you be back by the time Franny is out of school? We are going to the park.”

“I’d love to come.”

He thought of his ex-wife. “Full disclosure. Antonia was supposed to meet us there, but she has to find a place to stay since her welcome at the hotel is over.”

Brooke winced. “She’s flaking on Franny?”

“Yes. And going to blame me, from the sound of it.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“It is.”

“Well, thank you for telling me. I’ll still be there.”

Luca kissed her again, this time briefly. “I’ll see you this afternoon.”

“Have a nice day.”

He smiled. “I will now.”

Brooke walked away, and much of the anxiety that had been hovering in his head for days started to fade.

His phone buzzed on the counter. He glanced at it, thinking it was Antonia whining. When he saw a text from Chloe, he picked it up and read it.

Flowers die. Jewelry doesn’t.

He dismissed her comment, put the phone aside.

Three steps toward his room he stopped, turned back to the kitchen, and looked at the text again.

“Huh.”



“Look at you!”

Brooke’s father was walking out the doors of the assisted living home with a walker and not in the wheelchair.

“Getting stronger every d-day.”

“That’s fabulous.” And it was. He was smiling, and even though he had hippie hair at this point and the stuff growing out of his nose could be braided, he looked like he’d put on ten of the thirty pounds he’d lost in the hospital. “You look good.”

“I look . . . look like a bum.”

She opened the car door, helped him with his seatbelt. “Let’s take care of that for you.”

After tucking the walker in the trunk, she slid behind the wheel and drove out of the parking lot. “There’s a barber shop not too far away I thought we’d try out.”

“And lunch.”

“Yes, Dad. And lunch.”

The barbershop was run by two Korean women who were fast and efficient.

Her father complained because he couldn’t understand everything they said.

Brooke rolled her eyes, shook her head, but kept her mouth shut and paid for it all.

Lunch was a little easier going. They found a Mexican restaurant where her father could get a quesadilla with way too much cheese. It was then that he asked about her life.