The Tenant (19 page)

Tanya pretended to shudder. “The table’s set? Anything for the prodigal son, huh?”

She’d meant it as a joke, but he felt a pang deep inside. He was the prodigal son, who’d wasted his father’s fortune and now came back for seconds.

Tanya must have read his thoughts on his face; she’d always been able to tell what was on his mind. “You’re an idiot,” she said. “You aren’t the prodigal son. You took a risk and you fell in love. Both are human nature, and when they work out, they yield great returns.”

He very briefly wondered how she knew about Amanda, before realizing she’d meant Catherine. The woman he’d loved enough to let her take it all away. Amanda was nothing compared to her. He didn’t even know why he was still thinking about the diminutive blonde with the expressive eyes. “Sucks that they didn’t work out, huh?” he asked when he noticed his sister watching him.

“This time.” She looped one arm around his. “Now grab your bag and let’s go eat. It’s already half past three. I’m starving.”

“Had a bite on the flight, but won’t say no to Mom’s meatloaf.” Derek reached for his suitcase.

His father got to it first. Despite constantly complaining about his old age, Enzo Arbore was a spry and strong man. His once chestnut brown hair was now mostly grey, and he carried an extra pound or two around the waist, but it suited him. Derek’s mom had always said her husband looked too athletic for a restaurateur. “I got this. You kids keep chattering. I’ve missed that noise.”

Kids. Derek would give anything to be one once again. Only then, he would
definitely
not be having sex with Am—

What the fuck was wrong with him? “Thanks, Dad,” he said and let his sister lead him to the Blue parking lot.

The drive to lower Manhattan didn’t last forever, but it felt so. “I’d forgotten how far everything is here,” Derek muttered.

“I don’t think San Francisco can be called small,” his sister noted.

“No, you’re right.” But contrary to his expectations, he could call it home, while New York now felt strange and unwelcoming.

That feeling faded when he set foot inside his family home, where he’d grown up on Italian food and love. “Mama.” The tiny woman shot into his arms, and he lifted her in the air.

“That no good puttana made you starve yourself.” His mother pinched his cheek, her soft tone belying her words.

“Mom, Catherine…” How could he possibly end that sentence? “Yeah, okay.”

‘Puttana’ was the extent of his mother’s Italian vocabulary and it sounded funny in her very not-Italian accent. She found the word useful, she said with a shrug when anyone asked why she used it. Her pale blonde hair, which she religiously maintained white-free, and blue eyes betrayed her north European descent. Derek’s half-Italian father called her his miniature Valkyrie. The same term could apply to Amanda.

Fucking Amanda, who’d managed to invade his thoughts three times from the moment he’d landed.

He wasn’t safe from her, no matter how far he ran.

•●•

Derek’s mother smacked his shoulder. “Eat up. There’s more in the oven. How long are you staying? Your auntie Nelly wants you to drop by. She’s missed you. You only here for the weekend or a whole week? Try the potatoes too. I did them with rosemary, way you like’em. So? What were you thinking, bleaching your hair?”

“It’s called frosting, Mom, and it’s—like—totally trendy,” Tanya said in a mock-excited, high-pitched lilt. “Two decades ago,” she added in her normal, husky voice.

“Let the boy breathe, Jenny. He’ll choke!” Derek’s dad laughed. “Let’im fill up his batteries, and then you can interrogate him all afternoon.”

Derek widened his eyes in mock horror. “I’ll just have to keep eating all day.”

Tanya chuckled. “What a chore.”

By the time he was wiping the last of the tomato sauce from his plate with a bite of freshly baked bread, Derek felt full. Full of homemade food and love and a peculiar warmth in the pit of his stomach he hadn’t felt in a while—except for that second when he’d tickled the sole of Amanda’s foot, and she’d let out a surprised little squeal.

He sighed and pushed his chair back enough so he could cross his legs. “Is smoking still allowed in here?”

“Never was,” his mom said.

“Sure is,” his dad said.

Tanya reached on the coffee table behind her for the ashtray. “You’d think one would’ve converted the other by now, huh?”

Derek chuckled, but deep down he was jealous of what his parents had. He wanted someone who both completed him and was different enough to keep him on his toes. He bummed a smoke from his dad, lit it, and pulled in a deep drag. “I
really
don’t want to quit this.”

“It’s bad for you,” his mother said.

“I know, Mom. The best things are. Let me smoke this one in peace, and I promise I’ll pick up the table myself.”

“Nah. I’ll help her,” his sister said. “You and Dad can play cavemen and enjoy a nice smoke while the li’l women do chores.”

Derek shook his head. Nobody could ever confuse Tanya for a little woman—at six foot, she stood as tall as their dad, and her shoulders were almost as wide as his—and their mother was small in stature but huge in presence. “Thanks, Tan, but I wanted to talk to Mom too. We’ll do it later. I can help y—”

“You told your father you wanted to talk business. He and I have agreed he takes care of that. Tanya and I will be in the kitchen.”

Derek could tell his mother didn’t want him to feel pressured. He gave her a thankful smile and waited until she and his sister picked up the empty dishes.

“How much?” his father asked the moment the women were out of sight.

“What…?”

“How much do you need to get back on your feet?”

Derek ran a palm over his face. The smoke stung his eyes. He pulled on the cigarette again and let the air out slowly. His dad’s blunt question should be making things easier. Instead, it made Derek feel smaller. “I only need a loan to get my restaurant back. An investment. I’ve drawn up a business plan I want to show you. You’ll have your capital back within two years.”

“I have no doubt. Hell, knowing you, you’ll probably wanna pay me interest too.” He covered Derek’s free hand with his own. “But I’ll do you one better. I’ll buy the restaurant back myself. You run it for five years for a salary, and then it’s yours.”

“You’re afraid I’ll lose it again.”

“No. I just think I can out-bargain Catherine, and I’d rather know you keep some money for yourself than worry you give me everything you make.”

Derek shook his head. “I don’t want you to bail me out. Not this time. Need to do this alone. If you’re not comfortable with my proposal, I’ll go to the bank. Maybe I can get—”

“Screw the bank. Tell me how much you need. Shit, say you’ll move back to New York, and I’ll give you one of our restaurants here as a welcome home present.”

“You’ve become like those parents you used to make fun of when I was in grade school.”

“Eh, they were spoiling their brats. I’m trying to bribe my son to return to the nest. We’ll go by the bank in the morning.”

Derek leaned over, cupped the back of his dad’s head, and planted a big smooch on his forehead. “Thank you, Dad.”

“Don’t get all mushy on me, boy.” His smile deepened the lines framing his mouth, but the rest of his face seemed younger.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He let his head fall back and watched the swirling smoke meander toward the high ceiling. The first of the cogs was in place, and he could feel his life whirring in what seemed like a normal rhythm.

Next step would be making Catherine an offer she couldn’t refuse. Then he was moving out and deleting Amanda from his memory. No—he would actually start deleting her right now, by refusing to think of her for the remainder of his trip to New York.

He loved making plans.

“So tell me about your new lady trouble,” his dad said.

Wasn’t his fault people wouldn’t let him stick to them.

“God, she drives me nuts, Dad!”

Saturday, May 10
th
2014

The apartment felt empty.

Deserted.

Lonely.

And that was all before Amanda even got out of bed.

She wanted to stay huddled under the covers and let her mind spin in circles until it wore itself out.

Get a grip. She had to get a grip.

She was still in that transitional phase, where she wasn’t yet used to living alone. Of course, she’d been living by herself for years,
but not in that apartment
. That was the only reasonable explanation, and Amanda was all about reason.

Like, it made sense she didn’t feel like getting up. She’d stayed up late the night before, talking with Alice. Had spent most of Friday with Alice, actually, and that was exhausting in and of itself.

It was completely logical that Amanda had maybe cried a little when telling her sister Derek was barely even speaking to her. She was emotionally charged; of course she had random outbursts about people who didn’t really matter to her.

And it was perfectly reasonable she hadn’t even told Derek off for the whole mess with the painters. She’d been caught off guard on Thursday, seeing him sneaking out with his suitcase. Like he was gonna leave and not even say good bye. After everything they’d done. After everything she’d done to him. Everything she’d let him do.

She wiped her right eye with the back of her hand. Then the left one. She had to be coming down with something. Why else would she be tearing up all of a sudden?

The drama was getting to her. First she was moving in her own place and preparing a wedding. Then she was cheated on and the wedding no longer in the cards. Then she’d never been cheated on, and had been the cheater herself. The wedding was back on, and her fiancé wanted to soothe her sexual frustration.

Only, someone else had gotten there first.

And at some point among all the crazy, she’d started feeling things she shouldn’t be feeling.

Things that hurt her and would hurt a kind, innocent man too.

Things she couldn’t stop thinking about.

Blue eyes. Sharp cheek bones. A deep, velvety voice whispering naughty promises. A chiseled, hard body making good on each and every one of them.

Amanda would like to stay in bed longer, have some time to herself, touching the places Derek had brought to life. She couldn’t; it would compound her betrayal. Mason deserved better, even if that meant denying her body what it craved.

The sound of the doorbell ripped through her self-flagellating thoughts. Right. There was another reason she couldn’t remain hidden under the covers: Alice and their parents were there to help her paint the apartment, since Amanda hadn’t been able to reschedule the painters or find someone else at such short notice.

“You okay?” Alice asked as soon as Amanda opened the door.

“Sure.” She’d washed her face and pulled her hair back in a loose bun. According to her mirror, she looked like she hadn’t cried at all.

“If you say so.”

“Why wouldn’t she be okay? Honey? Is something wrong?” A frown creased her mother’s forehead.

“She’s second-guessing her choice of painters, probably.” Amanda’s dad pushed by the women, brandishing two painting rolls as if they were swords. “No worries, sweetheart. The place just needs some freshening up. We’ll do a better job than any paid crew could.”

“’Course, it’ll cost you dinner. And not fast food.”

“Alice, honestly, I don’t’ know how you’re not a blob, with what you’re consuming,” Amanda said.

“Easy. I only eat much when others are buying.” Alice flashed a full-mouthed grin.

•●•