Kissing Under The Mistletoe (The Sullivans #10)(61)

Chapter Twenty-Two

Mary wrapped her winter coat tightly around her as she set out on foot through town. Tomorrow, she’d show Jack all of her favorite childhood haunts, but right now she appreciated the fact that he’d understood she needed to see them again for herself first.

Young children playing by the fountain stopped their game to point at her. The girls chattered excitedly about her boots, her outfit and hairstyle. The boys wondered what the big deal was. When she smiled at the girls and waved at the boys, their cheeks colored and they quickly turned back to their game.

Already she longed for little boys with Jack’s smile and focus, and little girls with her passion and determination. Love had come quickly for her and Jack. She hoped a family would, too.

Mary put a hand over her flat stomach. She and Jack hadn’t yet said their “I do’s,” but Mary had never been one to wait when there was something she wanted.

Her father, she thought with a smile, was likely getting their separate bedrooms ready right now. Well, she’d mastered the art of sneaking out of her bedroom as a girl. Tonight, she decided with a flutter of anticipation, she was going to sneak into the bedroom on the other side of her parents’ house to seduce her fiancé.

The butcher was her first stop, and she was barely in the door when Antonio exclaimed with delight. Mary had been afraid that people would be wary of her—after all, she’d left without a backward glance thirteen years ago, and it had taken her mother’s illness for her to finally return. But with each stop she made during the next hours, she felt as if the years she’d been gone were slipping away one by one.

From the butcher to the vegetable stand to the florist and then the cheese shop, none of the proprietors would let her pay for what she needed. A half-dozen invitations came for coffee and dinner, and she was thrilled to get to hold her friends’ new babies and admire their beautiful older children, as well. By the time she turned to head back to the house, her heart was as full as the bags of food and flowers she carried.

Jack was playing scopa, a game similar to gin rummy, with her father in the living room when she returned, and her heart hitched in her chest at what a beautiful picture they made, the two men she loved most in the world.

Jack quickly put his cards down to take the bags from her and bring them into the kitchen. Once she’d taken off her coat, he took her hands in his and pulled her close.

“You look happy.”

“I am. And tomorrow, I’ll introduce you to everyone in town. I told them all about my gorgeous, brilliant American fiancé. They can’t wait to meet you.”

His mouth was warm over hers, and when he let her hands go to slip his around her waist, she slid her fingers into his soft, dark hair and pulled him even closer. She’d never kissed a boy in her parents’ kitchen before, and when she heard her father’s footsteps—made purposely louder, she was sure, because he could guess what she and her fiancé were up to—she drew back with a laugh.

“I hope your jet lag isn’t too bad,” she said to Jack in a low voice, “because I don’t know how much sleep you’re going to get tonight.”

His eyes darkened with so much desire—and the love she felt from him in every moment—that she lost her breath as he whispered, “Your room or mine?”

Ah, so she’d been right about her father setting up separate bedrooms for the unmarried couple. “Yours.”

Her father came into the room, and for the next hour Mary cooked and translated the conversation back and forth from Italian to English. Her mother had made this sickbed meal for her several times when she was a child. This was the very first time Mary had ever made it for her mother.

A short while later, when she’d set heaping plates in front of Jack and her father, Mary made up a tray with a full bowl of soup and a warm cup of tea. Her mother stirred as she walked in, as if she’d simply been lying in bed waiting for Mary to come back.

Helping Lucia sit up comfortably with a few thick pillows behind her, at her mother’s protests that she wasn’t hungry, Mary said, “You need to eat a few bites to build your strength up.”

Her mother took a small sip of the soup. “It tastes just like mine. Maybe,” Lucia said as she took another sip from her spoon, “it’s even better.”

It was amazing how such a small compliment could mean so much. “I learned from the best.”

Her mother put down her spoon. “Cara, I have much to apologize for.”

Mary was nearly bursting with the things she wanted to say to her mother and that she wanted to know—but not only had she learned unconditional love from Jack, she’d learned patience, as well.

“I do, too,” Mary said in a soft voice, “but tonight all you should be doing is eating and resting. In the morning, when you’re stronger—”

“I’m strong enough now to tell you how much I’ve missed you. How much your father has missed you. I’m strong enough now to tell you how much we both love you and that if I could rewind the clock back to that day when you were nineteen, I would do it better this time. I would do it right.”

Her mother began to cough, and Mary handed her the mug of tea. “Mama, I can’t tell you how much it means to hear you say these things, but I promise you, I know how much you love me, because I love you just as much. I don’t want you to wear yourself out. We have time to talk about all of this later, once you’re well.”