Full Circle (28 page)

“
Sì. Credo di sapere di chi stai parlando,
adesso.”

She both loved and hated when he threw his
Italian at her. Loved it because it sounded provocative. Hated it
because she couldn’t understand a lick of what he said.

“What did you just say?”

He ushered her through a hall with
toffee-colored walls toward a set of open double doors. “I said
that I think I know who you’re talking about now.”

“Show off.”

He chuckled as he guided her into a grand
ballroom as opulent as the one at the Palmer House Hilton, only on
a much smaller scale. Still, that wasn’t to say the place wasn’t
huge. It was. Bigger than eight of her apartments combined. Maybe
more. It was hard to compare the square footage.

About a dozen people dressed in everything
from suits and flirty cocktail dresses to tuxedos and evening gowns
sat in a sitting area along the far wall, drinks in hand, caught up
in discussion.

She exchanged glances with Mark, wordlessly
conveying her anxiety over dressing so casually. But he merely
grinned, winked, and pulled her into the room as if everything were
normal.

“Marcus!”

All heads turned their way as a slender,
elegant woman who had to be Mark’s mom rose from her seat at the
head of the group, threw out her arms, and glided toward them,
holding herself like a queen coming to welcome home her son, the
prince. A man bearing a striking resemblance to Mark followed.

“Happy birthday,
Mamma
.” Mark hugged
her. Then he shook his dad’s hand.

“It’s so good to see you.” Giada’s Italian
accent graced every syllable. She stood back and looked Mark up and
down. “You look good. Lean. Like a tiger.” She winked at him then
turned her gaze on Karma, her smile beaming. “And you must be
Karma.” Without warning, Giada enveloped her in a strong, consuming
embrace. “The one to steal my son’s heart.” She spoke softly but
proudly, as if she had never thought this day would come. Then she
released her and pulled back, her dark eyes—eyes so much like
Mark’s in the same shade of dark green—dancing over Karma’s face.
“And so lovely.” She turned toward Mark. “You’ve done well,
Marcus.”

He took Karma’s hand and gave her a look that
came across as part relief, part pride. “She honors me,
Mamma
.”

“That she does.” Giada pinched Mark’s
cheek.

“Pleasure to meet you, Karma. I’m Adler,
Mark’s father.” Adler shifted his glass of wine to his left hand
and extended his right. He had a firm handshake, just like
Mark’s.

“Nice to meet you,” she said.

Adler and Giada held themselves almost
regally, but not haughtily. Shoulders relaxed, backs straight,
heads held high, with warm, generous smiles on their faces. They
definitely possessed the posture of champion ballroom dancers.

Mark glanced toward the group in the sitting
area. “I was hoping Karma and I could have a few minutes of privacy
with both of you before the party.”

Giada beamed. “Of course.” She gestured
toward the door. “Let’s go somewhere we can talk.” She stopped a
waiter on their way out. “Could you bring four glasses of champagne
to the sitting room, please?”

“Certainly.”

And then Karma was following Mark’s parents
into a smaller, elegantly appointed room with burgundy walls,
furnished with a green and gold settee, a solid dark-green
upholstered sofa, which looked more grey than green once she got
closer, and two burnished-gold club chairs. A small fire crackled
in the brick fireplace, which was framed by a mahogany mantle
adorned with a collection of ceramic cats, some small, others
almost life-sized.

Karma peered closer, admiring one that was
solid matte-black, smooth and sitting tall and proud the way she’d
seen cats in Egyptian paintings.

“My mom collects cats,” Mark said from beside
her, his hand resting on the small of her back. “When I was in your
apartment the first time and saw your collection of ceramic
elephants, it reminded me of them.” He turned an affectionate smile
toward her, their eyes meeting.

“And of your mom,” she added.

“Yes.”

The memory was a delicate connection to their
past. To how they met, as well as the first time she invited him
into her home. Now his interest in her collectibles made more
sense. Why hadn’t he just said then that his mom collected ceramic
cats, which was why her elephants had caught his eye?

Karma glanced back to the matte-black cat as
the answer came to her in a flash of clarity. That night, Mark had
had no intention of letting their relationship come this far. At
the time, he’d still believed he could simply walk away and not
fall in love with her. So of course he wouldn’t have revealed
anything personal about him or his family. That hadn’t been part of
his plan.

Ever the planner, he’d never seen her coming,
had he?

Contained. That was how Mark had lived until
they met. Self-contained within an impenetrable skin. And
yet . . . she had penetrated him all the way to the
center of his heart.

Love and hope and something that felt like a
bubble full of giggles expanded inside her chest, and she slid her
arm around his waist, pressing closer. His arm eased securely
around her waist in response. They were cause and effect. Echoes of
one another. When she moved, he moved. Theirs was such a personal,
almost supernatural weaving of motion.

Almost like a dance.

It was just one more piece of evidence
proving she had succeeded where all others had failed. Isn’t that
what he’d told her? That she had enabled him to love again? Not
because she’d held a gun to his head and told him to love her or
die. No. She’d gotten through and awakened his heart by letting him
go. By freeing him to fly back out into the world without her. Only
then had he seen how important she was to him.

He’d told her all this over the last four
months, but it hadn’t fully sunk in until this very moment. He’d
said all the words, but now she felt their impact.

He loved her. Really, truly, deeply loved
her. And it was because she’d let him walk away that he’d realized
that.

Mark had come back. For her. And even though
he wasn’t the perfect man she’d built him up as in her mind, he was
so much more. Still larger than life. Charitable. Thoughtful.
Almost to a fault.

Humble.

Strange how she now saw Mark as humble when
two summers ago, she never would have used that word to describe
him. Back then, he’d been almost cocky. But that was before she
knew he had millions. A person wasn’t able to hide wealth like that
if they didn’t possess humility.

Giada appeared at her side and lifted down
one of the figurines. Her long, elegant fingers caressed the shiny
surface as if she were holding a baby. “You collect, too?”

Karma nodded. “Yes. Elephants.”

“Why elephants?”

“I got one as a gift when I was younger, and
then I got another, and before long, I had a whole set. How did you
start collecting cats?”

Giada’s eyes sparkled. “I’ve always loved
cats, but Adler’s allergic. So, since I can’t have real cats,
anymore, I surround myself with these.” She drew her hand through
the air in front of the mantle.

“She has an entire curio of them in the
family room and two more in the upstairs hall,” Adler added. “And
plenty more displayed around the house.

Giada set down the cat then reached for
Karma’s left hand, her thumb stroking down her ring finger as she
lifted it.

Karma bit her lip and exchanged a worried
glance with Mark. His face was relaxed, but his expression filled
with awareness and expectation. His gaze dropped to her hand in his
mom’s.

“I assume this is what you wanted to discuss
with us, yes, Marcus?” Giada tilted her head maternally, in a way
that said, “I’m your mother. How did you think I wouldn’t notice
such an engagement ring on Karma’s finger?”

She had probably spotted the ring the moment
she laid eyes on her from across the room a few minutes ago.

“Yes.” Mark’s subdued voice did nothing to
hide the way he lifted his chin and chest, the rooster strutting,
wearing a purely masculine grin, possessive and proud. “Karma and I
are engaged.”

Giada closed her eyes and drew in a long,
deep breath as a smile spread over her face.

“Congratulations, son,” Adler said, shaking
Mark’s hand.

Unshed tears glistened Giada’s eyes when she
opened them again, and she slowly shook her head as she took both
Karma’s hands. “I never thought . . .” She sighed as
if forcing herself not to cry. “Welcome to the family, Karma. What
a lovely birthday present this is.”

Giada swept her into her arms and hugged her
close, whispering, “Thank you for making my son happy. I never
thought he would find such happiness again. Thank you.
Just . . . thank you.” She almost sounded like she
was praying.

When Giada finally released her, she quickly
brushed her fingertips under her eyes and blinked rapidly, glancing
away from Mark as if she didn’t want him to see her crying.

The waiter returned with flutes of champagne,
which Adler passed around.

“A toast,” he said, raising his glass. “To my
son and his future bride.”

Everyone clinked glasses and drank. It was a
far different reception to the news than they’d received from her
parents the night before. Or rather, from her dad. Her mom had been
happy enough.

“So,” Giada said, “when is the big day?
When’s the wedding?” She looked expectantly from her to Mark.

There went all the air in the room. Sucked
out as if by a factory-sized vacuum. And most of the warm and fuzzy
gushiness she’d felt toward Mark barely five minutes ago rushed out
with it. She’d only just forgiven him for springing the news that
he wanted to wait until summer to set a date, and now, right on the
heels of their ugly fight’s demise, came an unwelcome reminder of
it.

When neither she nor Mark answered, Giada’s
smile wavered. “You have set a date, haven’t you? You can’t get
engaged and not set a date.”

Apparently, in Mark’s world, you could. Too
bad they didn’t live in Giada’s.

“We’re waiting until after things slow down
at work,” Karma said, darting an accusing glance toward Mark. “And
I just started a new job and have classes,
sooo . . .” She sounded like she was making excuses
for why her homework wasn’t done.
You see, there was a pile of
dishes in the sink, and I needed to take the car in for an oil
change, and then my dog ate all the pencils in the apartment and I
was too busy trying to come up with believable excuses about why my
homework wasn’t done to actually do it, so that’s why it’s not
finished. My bad.

Damn Mark for sucking her into his delay
game. Now she was spouting his excuses, even though she didn’t buy
them for a second. He’d put her in an awkward position. One that
felt more like a trap.

“And we just bought a house,” Mark added, “so
we’re trying to get settled there, too.”

Nice diversion, Mark.

“A house!” Giada pressed her hands together
in supplication. “How lovely. You must invite us down once you get
settled.”

Mark took out his phone and pulled up a
series of pictures he’d taken during their first walk-thru, seeming
all too content to let the subject of their pending nuptials fall
into the background.

She was getting the feeling Mark would never
be ready to set a date, even though she didn’t have much to base
that on. Her gut just told her this was an issue. That his
reticence wasn’t just a passing irritation but a huge problem. The
question was why?

Somehow, she knew Carol was part of the
answer. Mark had confessed everything else that had been holding
him back. But he still never talked about Carol. She needed to find
a way to get that woman out of their lives if she and Mark were
going to have their happily ever after.

“Well,” Giada said, studying Karma with a
compassionate eye, “you don’t want to wait too long to set a date,
Marcus, especially if you’re trying for June.”

Karma looked at Mark as he stuffed his phone
back in his pocket, but he avoided meeting her gaze.

She wanted to say, “See, I told you so.” Lisa
had said the same thing about trying for June, and now his mom said
the same thing.

Of course, they didn’t have to have a June
wedding, but, in all honesty, Karma wouldn’t mind one. June was her
favorite month. Not too hot, not too cold. On the precipice of
summer. Colorful with everything newly come back to life after
winter. It was the perfect month to get
married . . . for new beginnings.

Oh well, there was always
next
June.

As long as Mark didn’t put a kibosh in that,
too.

Chapter 17

A true friend never gets in your way unless you
happen to be going down.

-Arnold H. Glasow

Karma nibbled on a tasty
amuse-bouche
, as
Mark called it. Single, bite-sized
hors d’oeuvres
. This one
was a tiny cheese and bacon stuffed pastry decorated with chopped
baby lettuce and herbs.

Waiters carried tray after tray of
amuse-bouches
among the guests. Cherry tomatoes cut in half
with tiny chunks of mozzarella between the two halves and speared
on a toothpick with a small strip of fresh basil; bacon-wrapped
shrimp; bite-sized gourmet pizzas; finger sandwiches; sushi; even
miniature bowls of different kinds of soup, and so much more. Karma
had yet to see two trays alike.

Then, of course, there were the drink trays.
The party was a smorgasbord of fine food and potables.

“Tell me about this poker game that ended
your poker-playing days,” she said, dusting her hands on a cocktail
napkin as Mark grabbed them two more flutes of champagne from a
passing tray.