If Ever I Fall (Rhode Island Romance #1) (18 page)

“Do you have wine?”
he asked as she opened a drawer to retrieve an oven mitt.

“In the pantry. I
like red.”

“Me, too.”

She took the pizza
out of the oven and placed it on a cooling rack while he opened a bottle of
cabernet. “Do you drink wine often?” she wondered.

“I’m Italian.”

She laughed at his
blunt response. “I didn’t drink much until I moved here. The girls got me into
it.”

He sat on one of
the barstools, watching her as she set out a couple of wine glasses. “What was
Collette up to today, asking me to come over here?” he wondered. “Do you think
she forgot that she had other plans?”

Willa compressed
her lips, debating how to respond. Then she shrugged. “She was plotting.”

He paused in the
process of pouring the wine. “Plotting?”

“The girls all
noticed right away how you were looking at me. They wanted this for me.”

“Did they know
about Julia?”

“They found out
about her when I did. But that didn’t stop their conniving. They were convinced
that you were into me.”

“And they were right.”
His forehead creased. “I didn’t do a very good job of hiding my feelings, did
I. Do you think Veronica has caught on?”

“I don’t know. I
think she might suspect something.”

“I’ll have to talk
with her. I don’t want this showing up on the episode. That would only hurt Julia
more. I can’t let that happen.”

Willa sliced the
pizza and carried the pan over to the counter. She tore some paper towels from
the dispenser and set them out as placemats. She came around the counter to sit
on the bar stool next to him. “I don’t know if bringing Veronica’s attention to
us is a good idea,” she said as she grabbed a piece of pizza. “She keeps
telling me that the wall unit is the centerpiece of the episode. If she knew
about this, she might edit scenes to put the focus on you and me instead.”

His frown deepened.
“Maybe.”

They were silent
for a while as they devoured the pizza.

She took a sip of
wine, then said, “Tony’s going to be upset about this, too.”

His mouth flattened
into a grim line. “I know.”

“He loves Julia.”

“I know,” he said
again. “She practically raised him.”

“No. Not like that.
He
loves
her.”

Joe gave her a
startled look. He slowly shook his head. “You’re wrong about that. She’s
family. He made a promise to her once that he’d never make her cry. That’s what
he told me a couple of weeks ago when he reminded me of the promises
I
had made and asked me to back away from you.”

It was Willa’s turn
to shake her head. “The girls see it. I see it, too. He’s in love with her.
Maybe he doesn’t fully realize it yet. I wonder how things would have played
out if you and I hadn’t happened. If he would’ve ever said anything to you
before the wedding took place.”

He gave this some
thought. Then he shook his head again. “No,” he said, half to himself. “It
can’t be true.” He looked down at his unfinished slice of pizza, forehead
knotted with confusion and disbelief.

“I’m sorry,” she
said. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything. But I thought you should be
prepared for his reaction when you tell Tony about us. It might be worse than
you expect.”

After a minute or
two of silent contemplation, Joe lifted his head, swiveling the bar stool to
face her directly. “Even if it’s true,” he murmured. “That doesn’t mean that Julia
feels the same way about him.” His voice turned husky, his gaze intense and
direct. “You can’t force someone to love you, Willa. It’s either there, or it
isn’t. It just…is.”

Her heart fluttered.
She took a deep breath. “I know,” she agreed softly.

He set his right
elbow on the counter, propped his chin in his hand. “I looked you up online,
you know,” he informed her, his gleaming eyes roving across her flushed
features.

“Oh?”

“Wilhelmina the
Whiz Kid. You were a sensation back in the day, just like you said. There were
several articles and a few videos.” His teeth flashed in a teasing grin. “You
were an adorable kid. What happened to the glasses?”

“Those were just
for effect. My father’s idea.”

“Like he thought
you needed to wear them to make you look even smarter than you already are?”

“Something like
that.”

“What an ass. I
wanted to reach through my computer screen and rip his head off when I saw him
grab your arm.”

“That was the only
way he could get my attention back then,” she explained. “I was highly introverted
when I was younger. There were so many things—thoughts, ideas—spinning around
in my head. He had to touch me to draw me to the present. But his touches
usually hurt.”

Joe gently rubbed
her arm with his other hand, as if he could soothe away those long ago pinch
marks and bruises. “Tell me about some of the things you were thinking of.”

She frowned
reflectively. “It’s difficult to explain. There were so many. It could be
numbers, formulas, an entire page of text that I’d read in some book the day
before. Sometimes, when I was very nervous, I’d seek security in the fairytales
my mother had read to me. You see, even though I could read them myself, I
begged her to read them to me. Her voice was so soft and lyrical. It put vivid
pictures in my head of magical lands. With her, there was so much color. With
my father, everything was black and white.” She cocked her head, giving him an
earnest, questioning look. “Does that make sense?”

His smile was tender.
“Perfect sense. Your mother sounds like a lovely lady.”

“She was. I’ve
always wished that I had a voice like hers. That I could talk like that.”

“There’s nothing
wrong with your voice.”

The look she gave
him clearly expressed her skepticism. “You can honestly say that, after
watching those videos? After hearing the way I speak sometimes?”

He shrugged. “I
like the way you talk. And I saw a little girl who was nervous in front of the
cameras. She also looked pissed off at some of the stupid questions the
interviewers were asking her.”

Her laugh was
abrupt and brittle. “I was. That’s part of my problem. Things are moving so
quickly in my head sometimes. I find myself paying more attention to what’s inside
my head than to what people are saying to me. Basic social engagement can be a
real struggle for me.”

“I’ve seen that.
But it’s not a bad thing like you seem to think it is. It’s part of the reason
why I found you so intriguing in the first place.”

“Really?”

He brought his hand
to her face and caressed her jaw, his thumb slowly tracing her parted lips.
“Really. That and those beautiful eyes of yours. They’re so clear and direct.
And curious.”

She relaxed into
his caress, tension seeping out of her body. Confident of his trust, she felt
no anxiety in sharing the rest of her background.

 “My father had me
tested for all kinds of things, in addition to my I.Q. On a very drawn out
scale, I’m on the autistic spectrum. The doctors would never label me as
autistic, though, just that I have some characteristic tendencies.”

“Like what?”

“Like how socially
awkward I can be when I’m in unfamiliar situations or settings. Like how I can
lose my focus and equilibrium when I’m in large groups of people. Like how I
can be very literal. I mean that sometimes when people are talking to me, and
they use certain expressions, I don’t always get what they’re saying right away.
Because I’m picturing the literal definition of that expression in my head.”

His fingers trailed
slowly across her cheekbone. He leaned forward, bringing his face close to
hers. He kissed her forehead, her eyelids, the tip of her nose, then drew back
slightly to look her straight in the eye.

“So,” he said, his
voice tender and low. “If I tell you that I love you, what do you see in your
head?”

She blinked.
“Really?”

“Really.”

Her heart felt like
it was going to fly out of her chest. She brought her trembling hands to his face,
rested her forehead against his. She struggled to catch her breath.

His soft, warm
laughter fanned across her mouth. “Well?” he asked. “What do you see?”

“You and me. Living
in my new house. You designed that bedroom for both of us, didn’t you.”

“I did. Though it
was deeply buried in my subconscious at the time.”

She sat back a
little so she could look into his eyes. “I see you turning the garage into your
workshop.”

He angled his head
so he could kiss her palm. “I like that idea. And I see you at your desk in the
kitchen typing up your latest, amazing cookie recipe. I’m your official taste
tester of course.”

“Of course.”

His eyes turned
molten. “I see you mixing batter in a bowl with nothing but an apron on.”

She giggled. “How
did you know that’s the way I always dress when I’m baking?”

He kissed her
mouth, lingering. “I see you and me sitting on a park bench,” he whispered, his
voice shaking slightly. “We’re holding hands and looking towards the
lighthouse. Your hands are worn with age and time, but in my eyes and in my
heart, they are always soft and unlined, just like they are now. Is that
literal enough for you, my Wilhelmina?”

“Yes,” she
whispered back. “And I see me looking at you. And I say to you—just like I’ve
said a million times before that time—that I love you.”

He smiled against
her mouth and kissed her again.

“Willa!
Hurry up. Veronica looks like she’s ready to pull her hair out.”

Willa gave her
appearance one final appraisal in the mirror. She had decided to wear a sea
green sundress for the final reveal. It was Joe’s favorite color, the same
color she’d worn when they had first met
.

She turned towards
Collette. “How do I look?”

“Pretty as always.
How about me?” Collette fluffed her hair.

“Adorable as
always. When will you let the girls find a man for
you
?”

“Been there, read
the book, saw the movie.”

“We’ll see about
that.”

“Forget about it.”

They walked into
the living room and looked out the window at the busy activity taking place in
Willa’s front yard. Veronica was talking to Curtis and Sam, gesturing towards
the closed front door of Willa’s house. Tiffany hovered nearby, taking notes
and looking slightly bored as usual. Audrey, Mercy and Shirley sat in lawn
chairs on Collette’s driveway. Audrey and Mercy were chatting with each other;
Shirley was watching Curtis.

Joe and Tony were
standing off to the side, arms folded across their chests as they spoke quietly
to each other.

It had taken almost
two weeks for Joe’s black eye to fade and for Tony’s sprained wrist and bruised
knuckles to heal. They’d told Veronica that Joe had bumped into his bathroom
door in the middle of the night and that Tony had tumbled off a ladder at the
warehouse. Veronica had been skeptical, but she didn’t question them any
further.

Tony had taken the
news just as Willa had predicted he would. The very same day Joe had broken his
engagement with Julia, Tony had chased him down and tried to beat the crap out
of him. This description from Sylvie, who had witnessed the whole thing. Tony
had hauled Joe out into their backyard, and Joe had let him take the first
punch, just standing there like a rock.

“How could you do
that to Julia?” Tony had yelled.

“Because I don’t
love her in the same way I love Willa,” Joe had calmly replied.

Tony hit him again.
This time Joe fought back. They’d ended up rolling around on the lawn, arms and
fists flailing, until Sylvie had turned the hose on them.

“You should have
seen both their faces,” Sylvie told Willa the next day while they’d been
exploring the aisles at the restaurant supply store. “Tony’s face was almost
purple. He looked like he was ready to explode. And Joe had such a weird
expression. Like he was happy and sad at the same time. He told Tony that he
was deeply, deeply sorry that he’d hurt Julia, but that it was time to put
himself
first, to live
his
dreams for once. I nearly lost it right there, Willa.
I mean, it finally struck me, like it never had before, how much Joe has given
up for me and Tony. I’ve always kind of taken it for granted, you know? And I
think Tony felt ashamed, too. They talked some more and then hugged it out. But
I do feel bad for Julia. None of this is
your
fault, Willa. I like you a
lot. But Julia has been like a sister to me. I’ve been trying to reach her
since last night, but it goes straight to voice mail.”

Almost three weeks
had gone by, and there was still no word from Julia. Her parents had coldly
informed Joe that their daughter was visiting her cousin in San Diego for a
while, leaving the temporary management of Julia’s event business in their
hands.

Julia’s long
absence worried Joe. Willa knew this. Julia was his family; she probably always
would be. All the years she and Joe had spent together couldn’t be erased as if
they’d never been.

But Joe was also
looking to the future. He’d shared with Willa that he was fully invested in the
HOME series now; he wasn’t participating just for Tony’s sake. The notion that
he could inspire others to repurpose materials and to find the most energy
efficient solutions for their home remodels had reinvigorated him.

He’d stayed away
from Willa’s project, though, leaving it to Tony to manage. Still leery of
Veronica’s “narrative”, he’d remained behind the scenes, only doing one more
on-camera interview to reveal what he’d done with the section of the wall unit
that would go into the bakery.

He hadn’t shown it
to Willa yet, telling her he was saving it for a surprise.

“I’ll install it a
week before you open the bakery,” he’d told her, a wicked glint in his eyes.
“And then you can show me your appreciation in private.”

The renovation of
Willa’s house was done. It was time for the final reveal.

Everyone turned to
watch Willa as she followed Collette down the stairs. Both Joe and Tony moved
forward to meet her at the bottom.

“Are you ready,
Willa?” Veronica asked, her face beaming. “Are you ready for your new
beginning?”

A picture of Aunt
Pauline holding hands with her fiancé suddenly flashed in Willa’s head. But
they weren’t standing in front of the house as they’d been in the photo. They
were standing in a beautiful garden, their happy smiles reflecting the radiant
light that surrounded them. They were nodding their heads at her. Willa felt
their love, gratitude and encouragement in her heart.

She met Joe’s soft,
gleaming eyes, sending a silent message of love to him as she reached the last
step.

“I’m ready.”