Indelible (12 page)

“Congratulations, son.”

Oliver grinned like a fool, despite his initial protests about being too old to play.

They boxed up the game but remained at the table, eating the takeout pizza Jack had supplied for dinner.

“So, Angie.” Jack spoke far too carefully, which made Angie nervous. “You’ve been seeing a lot of Luna lately.”

Angie felt guilty. She’d timed her visits with Luna to coincide with Oliver’s activity schedule because she wasn’t willing to sacrifice her time with him. It never occurred to her that her father would miss her.

“Yeah, Mom. You should have her over for dinner so we can all get to know her.” Oliver’s contribution sounded rehearsed, and Jack subtly nodded.

Angie shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“Why not, Angie?” Jack asked. “I’ve never even met her. I’d like to know who my daughter is spending all her time with.”

Jack’s sentiments didn’t impress Angie. Too little, too late for her to take it to heart. When she was younger he never showed the slightest interest in her dates. In her mind, he’d forfeited the right to exercise parental concerns. She was twenty-seven years old, for Christ’s sake. She didn’t need Daddy’s approval of her beau.

“It’s not a good idea.” As much as Angie enjoyed Luna, she didn’t want to expose Oliver to a temporary person in her life. She had no doubt that her relationship with Luna would be short-lived, so why approach it any differently? Women like Luna simply didn’t settle down, and unlike Jack, Angie didn’t intend to parade an endless line of leather-clad women before Oliver. Not that she’d dated any other women like Luna, and she certainly didn’t plan to turn it into a habit.

“Why not? You obviously like the woman. Would it be so bad for your son and your old man to get to know her?” Jack spread his hands—like he was laying it all out for her—and smiled.

“I’ve never brought anyone home to meet Oliver.”

“No, but you should.” Jack’s smile faded slightly.

Angie collected the game and stood. It needed to be put away, and she needed an out from their conversation. She met and held her father’s gaze, debating whether she should tell him how much she resented all the women he had brought home when she was young. She hated meeting all her new “aunts.” Finally, she shook her head once, then left the room.

“Angie, you’ll have to unlock that heart of yours eventually,” Jack called to her back. “Not all women are out to hurt you.”

“Don’t be silly, Dad.” Angie raised her voice to be heard from the living room. She returned to the kitchen but didn’t sit.

“If you two intend to argue, I’m out of here.” Oliver stuffed the remainder of his pizza into his mouth and left. Music came on in his room, this time at an acceptable level.

“Are we arguing?” She didn’t agree with Jack’s version of her needs, but she was almost certain they weren’t just discussing it.

Jack ignored her question. Maybe he thought they were. “What are you afraid of?”

“Dad, I’m not having this conversation. I don’t plan to bring Luna into our home. If you’re having difficulty with the time I spend with her, I can cut down. I don’t need to see her every day.” And she didn’t. She could probably survive forty-eight hours without seeing Luna, but the thought of testing the theory made her stomach clench.

“And that’s it? You won’t even talk to me about this?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Angie shrugged. She still hadn’t relinquished her post in the open door. She rested her shoulder against the frame and crossed her arms over her chest. She’d read somewhere that crossed arms, or arms held in front of the body, said she wasn’t engaged, that she wanted the conversation to end. Jack must not have read that article because he just kept pushing.

“Yes, there is. You’ve been to see that woman every day for the last two and a half weeks. Your family wants to meet her.”

“Oliver has met her.” Angie was still trying to figure a way to mentally unring that bell. She didn’t want him to have the image of his mom dating a woman who wore leather pants and tattooed people for a living. Fortunately, Luna didn’t wear the leather often. Angie preferred her in jeans. Or out of jeans.

“I haven’t,” Jack said quietly, “but I’d like to.”

“No, Dad. I promised myself a long time ago that I wouldn’t introduce Oliver to anyone I was seeing unless I was sure she was the
one.
If it were up to me, Oliver wouldn’t have met her that day at the grocery store. I won’t bring her here for him to get attached to. Absolutely not.” Angie said more than she intended. She didn’t have to justify her decision to Jack, even if he was her father.

Jack threw his arms in the air, a classic I-give-up gesture, and spun around to the sink. He attacked the dishes with extreme vigor.

Angie left the room.

Friday, September 4

Luna ran her fingers over Angie’s back, starting at her shoulders, swirling and teasing to the dip just above her ass. Everything about Luna in the afterglow surprised Angie. She’d expected the leather attitude to carry over into all aspects of Luna’s personality, including postcoital snuggle time. The first time Luna curled herself around Angie, she had been too stunned to fully appreciate the intimate move. Now she basked. Luna made her feel worshipped.

“Feel good?” Luna asked lazily as she lightly scratched her way up to Angie’s shoulders.

“Mmm-hmm.” Angie rested her head on her folded arms and closed her eyes. She loved the way Luna touched her.

“Tell me something.” Luna’s hands traveled farther this time, kneading Angie’s ass cheeks. Squeeze and release, squeeze and release. She drew her fingers to Angie’s neck and started the journey downward again.

“What?” Angie would tell Luna anything, including her checking account number and PIN, just to keep her magical hands moving over her body.

“I don’t know. Something. Anything.” Luna followed her hands with her lips. “I just want to know you.”

Luna’s kisses sparked against her, pleasure blooming outward from the touch of her lips, distracting Angie. “Be specific. I can’t think when you do that.”

“Tell me about your mom.” Luna slapped Angie once on her bottom, sharp and quick, then urged her to turn over.

Angie settled onto her back and looked into Luna’s eyes. Luna resumed her careful exploration along the plains of Angie’s abdomen and into the valley between her breasts.

What could she possibly say about her mother? A woman who didn’t love her enough to stay. “My mom didn’t want to be a mom. She left when I was five.”

Luna kissed her tenderly. “I’m sorry.”

Angie shrugged and closed her eyes. She loved her time with Luna, without the pressure of work and parenting. She could relax, escape, and talk about secrets she otherwise held close to her chest. “I remember her packing all her clothes into a giant red suitcase. It probably wasn’t that big, but when you’re little, everything is huge. Then she took me to the neighbor’s house, Mrs. Castanetta, and told me to stay there until my father got home. She kissed my cheek, patted my hair, and that’s the last time I saw her.”

Luna continued her massage, spreading goose bumps across Angie’s chest and arms. Her nipples puckered.

“Were you scared?”

“No.” Angie remembered standing at the kitchen counter with Mrs. Castanetta, a tall wooden stool under Angie so she could reach as they mixed cookie dough. She let Angie eat the first one. “My dad didn’t figure out where I was until the next afternoon. I thought he’d gone with my mom.”

Luna’s fingers stilled. “He didn’t know where you were that whole time?”

“There were large chunks of my childhood when he didn’t know where
he
was. Losing track of another person when he was in that state? Not that big of a stretch.”

Luna nodded and pressed a small kiss to Angie’s temple. Her breasts brushed against Angie’s arm. “Where did your mom go?” Luna asked.

“She could be living in Gresham for all I know.” The thought of her mom living in the nearby suburb left a bitter aftertaste in Angie’s mouth. She thought she’d let go years ago. Apparently not. “Or Tibet.”

“Do you have any good memories of her?”

“She had a beautiful smile.” Angie could picture her mom’s face, frozen forever in memory as she scooped Angie into her arms and said, “That’s my Angie girl. I love you, baby.”

“So do you.” Luna caressed Angie’s lips, her middle finger dipping inside to touch Angie’s tongue.

“Tell me about your mom?” Angie knew Luna would likely change the subject. She always did. “Please.”

“Angie.” Luna closed her eyes and sorted out her words before answering. Her mother had been everything to Luna, but no matter how she tried to explain that, it always came out sounding less. Her mother deserved a tribute that Luna couldn’t provide. Angie made her want to try. “She was my best friend, and when she died a part of me went with her.”

Angie urged Luna to lie next to her, and she snuggled in close, her arm and leg thrown over Angie’s middle and her head resting on her shoulder.

“Go on.” Angie stroked her hair.

“Even though she’d been sick for so long, I didn’t want to admit she was gone. I locked myself in my room with a bottle of grappa and almost missed the funeral.” Luna’s Uncle Frankie had found her and sorted her out, pouring cup after cup of coffee into her. And when he told her to have courage, sounding so much like her mother with their shared accent, she finally broke down and cried.

“Be brave, she’d tell me. ‘
Coraggio
, Luna, you must be strong.’” Luna didn’t try to stop the tears that always came when she thought of Angela Rinaldi dying in that sterile hospital bed. She trusted Angie with her sadness.

“That’s where you got the name, Coraggio.” Angie ran her fingers through Luna’s hair over and over, soothing Luna with the rhythmic motion. “What does it mean?”

“Courage.” Luna tilted her head up and kissed along Angie’s jaw bone. Kisses of thank you, not passion. She couldn’t remember having a lover who listened, really
listened
. “She was so worried about me, about what I would do when she was gone.”

In retrospect, Luna realized her mother had been right to be worried. Luna had not fared well after she passed. She surrendered herself into a cloudy drunkenness, surfacing briefly for the burial ceremony, then diving under again. She’d stayed obliviously numb for months until Uncle Frankie told her to stop disgracing her mother’s memory and
do
something with herself.

And so she had. Luna had built a business to honor her mother, and now she was on the brink of dismantling that tribute and moving it to a different location. Would the heart of Coraggio remain the same, or would Angela Rinaldi’s defining presence remain behind with the building? Luna told herself that her mother’s spirit was in her, twined into her soul, not attached to the four walls of a structure her mother had never visited. Still, the fear, however small, was there, gnawing at Luna. She needed to change the subject before malaise settled over her completely. She was with Angie, and that was cause for celebration, not remorse.

“What was her name?” Angie asked.

Luna stroked Angie’s hair, the soft strands gliding through her fingers. “Angela.” The word was harder to say than Luna expected. It’d been too long since she’d said her mom’s name aloud. And it had never mattered so much. She was trusting Angie with a part of her life that was sacred.

Angie didn’t respond immediately. Her gaze softened, searching Luna’s eyes. “We have the same name.”

“I know.” Luna blinked back a tear. “Change of subject.” She propped herself up and kissed Angie on the mouth. “What are you doing this weekend?” Labor Day was the following Monday and Angie still hadn’t mentioned the barbecue. Luna was beginning to get anxious.

Angie pushed herself away from Luna and moved to the edge of the bed, where she sat with her back to Luna and shrugged. “Not much.” Angie stood and left the bedroom. “You want a glass of water?” she asked on her way to the kitchen.

That answered Luna’s question conclusively. Angie hadn’t mentioned the barbecue because she didn’t intend to invite her. What did that say about their relationship? They had yet to go out. Yes, they’d had one date, but Luna had brought Angie back to her apartment. She’d thought fixing her dinner would be romantic, but since then their encounters were limited to Luna’s bedroom and involved very few clothes and even less conversation. Their little bubble of existence was beautiful, but Luna wanted more.

Everything about Angie said she was a settle-down-and-raise-a-family kind of girl, yet she’d shown no signs of escalating their relationship beyond the physical. All the tumblers fell into place, and reality unlocked with a deafening click. She was Angie’s dirty little secret. Normally Luna would find that wonderfully naughty. At that moment, though, she simply felt deflated. She’d thought they were building something together.

Luna got up and started to dress. She was tying her shoes when Angie returned.

She stood in the open door, sipping a glass of water. “Are you going somewhere?”

“I thought we could go get something to eat.”

“Really?” Angie set the glass on the tall dresser and slinked toward Luna. The predatory gleam in her eyes and the sway of her hips almost melted the icy fragments that had settled into Luna’s chest. Angie started unbuttoning Luna’s shirt. “But it’s so much better when you’re naked.”