The Star-Crossed Sisters of Tuscany(94)

“Yeah, about that.”

She’s waiting for my apology. Instead, I say, “Can we put it behind us?”

“I can’t believe you did that, Emmie.”

I tamp down a smile. “Me, neither.”

“Where are you?” she asks.

“I’m here, at my apartment. I’ll walk down, if you’re home.” I pull two porcelain dolls from my bag, and the beautiful gloves I splurged on for Dar. “I have some souvenirs for the girls.” I run a hand over the expensive black leather. “And I bought something special for you.”

“Okay, well, Donnie’s sister and the kids will be here any minute. They’re coming for pizza. Can you bring the stuff to work in the morning? You will be at work, right?”



* * *





Smells of stale beer and popcorn greet me when I step into the Homestretch. The pub has a decent crowd for a Monday evening. A pair of blondes stand at the jukebox, laughing as they feed money into the slot. Four men gather at the pool table, three leaning on their cue sticks while one prepares to shoot. My stomach rumbles as I scan the bar. I spot a navy work shirt and my heart thumps. He’s still here.

Slowly, I step forward. He’s got his back to me, one hand scrolling his phone, the other clutching a beer mug. For some odd reason, I choke up. This is it. This is the man I’ll spend the rest of my life with, right here in Bensonhurst. He’s solid. Dependable. Funny. Adorable. And he loves me. So why am I on the verge of tears?

I creep toward the bar, stopping when I reach his stool. He doesn’t know I’m behind him. As I bend down to kiss his neck, I catch a whiff of the same Avon cologne my uncle Vinnie wears. I turn away, hit with a wave of nausea. I suck in one breath. And another. It’s okay. It’s only cologne. I’ll get used to it. Better yet, I’ll find him a new brand.

Take two. I wet my lips. I bend down, this time trying not to inhale. My lips meet his neck.

He jerks his head and lets out a laugh. “Hey,” he says, spinning around in his stool. He rears back when he sees me. “Ems?”

I smile. “Same girl, different glasses.”

“Whoa,” he says, looking everywhere except at me. “I didn’t expect to see you tonight.”

I slide onto the stool beside him and set a gift bag on the bar. “For you.”

His phone chimes. He quickly checks it before planting it facedown on the bar.

“Go on,” I say, pushing the bag closer to him. “Open it.”

He hesitates before reaching into the bag. His hands shake when he lifts the scarf, something I’ve never noticed from my steady electrician. “Nice,” he says. “Thanks, Em.”

“You okay?” I force myself to take his trembling hands in mine. The intimate gesture feels just as awkward as I remember. I’m thankful when he pulls them away and grips his mug.

“Yeah. Fine.” He takes a long swill of beer, then shakes his head, as if clearing it. “How was Italy?”

“Great.”

“And Poppy?”

“She’s amazing.” My mouth is so dry I can barely speak. “She made me realize some things.” I inhale deeply. “I’m ready to make some adult decisions.”

His phone chimes again. He lifts it, just inches off the bar. As if in slow motion, he rotates his wrist as he goes to peek at it. In that split second, I catch the name on the caller ID.

Carmella.



* * *





I order another pitcher of beer. “Salute!” I say. Matt grins and clinks his mug against mine.

“It’s good to have you home, Ems.” He turns pink and shakes his head. “You sure you’re cool with this?”

I slug his arm. “Cool with it? I’m thrilled. Seriously, MC. How could I not see this coming? You both love to bowl, you’re into craft beers, she’s a sweetheart, and, well, you’re not so bad yourself. I should have set you up with Carmella years ago.”

“She always seemed like a kid. But now that we’re in our twenties, five years is nothing.”

“Nothing,” I agree. “You look really, really happy.”

He studies me for a moment. “Yeah, well, I couldn’t wait for you forever.”

I look away.

“Seriously,” he says, and he touches my arm. “I’m not the one for you, Ems. I wanted to be, but I wasn’t.”

“I wanted you to be, too,” I say, my voice choked. “Carmella’s a lucky woman.”

“I’m the lucky one.” He smiles into his beer. “She gets me, Em. I feel . . . I don’t know . . . at home when I’m with her. You know what I mean?”

Emotions I wasn’t expecting rise in me. Love. Joy. Relief. And a bit of sadness, too, if I’m being honest. “Yes, I know what you mean,” I say, hoping someday I will.





Chapter 51




Emilia

It’s still dark when I dash out the door Tuesday morning, my new scarf knotted around my neck and a bag of souvenirs in my hand. A light in Uncle Dolphie’s barber shop catches my attention. Since when does he open at six a.m.?

I trot up to the glass door and knock. “Hello,” I call. The bells jingle when I enter. “Uncle Dolphie?”