Say Ye (12 page)

Two nights later, two days and nights without Lita, he sat at the bar in Nick’s with Vincente while Nick cleaned and restocked behind the bar.

“Is Lita out of town?” Nick asked.

“No.”

“What are you doing here?” Vincente said.

“What does it look like?” Lorenzo rubbed a finger along the cool surface of his glass of vodka.

“Like she’s mad at you. Flowers and candy work.” Vincente clapped his shoulder.

Lorenzo supposed Vincente would know, having been married for eight years before his wife died of cancer. “You coming to dinner tomorrow?”

“I’ll be there. Grandpop’s away for the weekend.”

“Lucky him.” Lorenzo took a swig of his drink.

“Do I need to remind you how long you’ve waited for Lita,” Nick asked. “Don’t forget you chose that, not her.”

Like he chose to avoid her the last two days. “I tried to do the right thing.”

“Are you now?”

“Goodnight,” he said, sliding off the barstool. He strode out and upstairs to his deserted apartment.

He arrived the next evening at Uncle Enzo’s early, or so he thought. Sophia, Carlo, and Joe were there. Carlo and Uncle Enzo sat at the kitchen table while Sophia washed greens at the sink and Lita and Joe worked together at the pasta machine, cranking out fresh fettuccine. Lita laughed and bumped Joe’s hip. Lorenzo squeezed the roses in his hand so hard a thorn pierced his finger. Everyone greeted him, except Lita, who continued bundling the pasta. Sophia shot Carlo a look.

“Lita, Carlo can take over for a bit,” Sophia said. “Lorenzo, let me put those in water.”

Lorenzo handed her the flowers. Blood trickled down his hand.

“You’re bleeding,” Lita said. A tiny crease appeared between her brows.

He splayed his fingers and viewed the cut. “Just a scratch.”

She took his other hand and pulled him into the half bath next to Uncle Enzo’s study. Her hand was small and warm, still a bit tacky from the pasta dough, but her slight touch made him tremble a moment. She let go and got out a first aid kit. She cleaned the tiny wound, dabbed it with Neosporin, and covered it with a band-aid.

“Okay?” Now her mouth pursed, like the expression she’d had a few nights before.

“A kiss would’ve been better,” he said.

She turned and washed her hands. “Two days. That’s almost half the time we’ve been engaged. When you don’t get what you want, is this what I should expect?”

“What do you want from me?”

“Show me I’m not just another woman, that I matter.” She faced him, her arms crossed.

“I’ve tried, but you won’t--”

She pushed at the door, slamming it open. “Everything isn’t about sex,” she said in an angry whisper. “If I had a ring, I’d throw it at you right now.” She stepped into the foyer. He grabbed her arm. “Let go.” She tried to pry his fingers off.

“Not until we talk,” he said.

Her cheeks deepened from a rosy pink to a reddish glow. She slammed the heel of her shoe into his foot. He released her and she ran upstairs. Carlo jogged out of the kitchen.

“What happened?”

Lorenzo gritted his teeth and stared at the wall. Carlo waited. “She broke up. I’m gone.”

“What did you do?”

Lorenzo waved and walked out.

9

Lita woke up late. Not that she wanted to get up at all, but she forced herself to shower and dress, all in black, her one concession to her mood. She greeted Uncle Enzo, who sat reading the Chronicle. His dark look only made her guilt rise up, like the thorns surrounding Sleeping Beauty’s castle.

She started breakfast, first tying on an oversized white apron. She sliced bread for garlic toast, got out homemade tomato sauce to poach the eggs in, and some baby spinach. Deciding on pears for fruit, she diced them, placing them in a shallow baking dish to roast in the oven under the garlic toast. A little mascarpone cheese to top the pears--she checked the fridge to make sure they had some. She grabbed a few potatoes from the bin in the cabinet, along with some peppers, all of which she diced and fried with a sliced onion in her cast iron skillet. Then, she finished with the eggs.

Lorenzo entered and said hello to them. No hint of his authoritative tone now. He had no idea how she hated that tone, how it made her defiant anger bristle and strike, like a threatened cat.

“Would you like some breakfast?” Uncle Enzo said as he folded the paper and set it next to him.

Lorenzo sat and Lita served them. Her hands trembled so she gave up eating and washed the pans.

“Can we talk in the living room?” Lorenzo asked when he set his plate by the sink.

Lita nodded and dried her hands on the dishtowel. Uncle Enzo snapped the paper out.

Why did Lorenzo have to be so sexy? It gave him an unfair advantage. She walked behind him into the living room. He turned to her and sank to his knees before he clasped her hand. He pulled a ring from his pocket and held it out to her. The diamond flashed bright, like his eyes. A classic Tiffany ring: a beveled thin gold band with a large round diamond, simple and elegant.

“Will you marry me?”

“Two knees?” She smiled.

“The romantic apologetic proposal.”

“You asked before.”

“And you said yes. Say yes again?”

“Yes.” He eased the ring onto her finger. This was forever.

“Promise no throwing the ring?” He stood and gazed at her.

“This ring?” she asked, admiring it again. “Never. Promise you won’t leave again?” He raised an eyebrow. “You know what I mean.”

“Promise.”

“What should the handsome prince do?” Lita slid her hands up his chest.

“I wouldn’t know.”

“I guess you need to watch some movies with me.” She eased her palms onto his neck.

He grinned, shook his head, and kissed her. He edged back, but she kept her arms around him.

“I’d like to continue, but I have an appointment. Uncle Enzo’s helping me look for office space.”

“Will I see you later?” she said as they walked back into the kitchen.

“No, I’ve got a dinner meeting with Lee and a designer.”

“Why not meet here?” Uncle Enzo said.

“Do you have plans today?” Lorenzo said to Lita.

“I might go to D’Angelo’s Market.” She’d rather spend the day with Lorenzo. It cut into her happiness that he seemed so off-hand about wanting to spend time with her.

“If you do, please give my regards to Celeste and pick up some amaretti,” Uncle Enzo said. Lita held out her hand to him. “Ah.” Uncle Enzo examined the ring. “I approve your choice, Lorenzo.” Uncle Enzo kissed Lita’s cheek.

Lorenzo glanced at his watch. “We need to be there in fifteen minutes.”

Uncle Enzo stood and went into the foyer for his coat.

Lorenzo kissed her, making her feel like she needed to sit down, but instead she put her arms around his neck and moved to kiss him back. He pulled away and said he had to go.

Lita dropped her arms to her sides. “Okay, have a good day. Will you call me later?” As the words left her mouth, she heard how they sounded, almost like a whine, too needy.

Lorenzo nodded and kissed her cheek. Like a deflating balloon she settled in her chair and exhaled a shaky breath. She gave herself a couple minutes before she rose and began her daily cleaning.

When she walked into the market that afternoon, Celeste greeted her with a smile.

“We missed you at church on Sunday.”

“I didn’t feel like going.” Lita should be happier. She’d have to fake it till she made it.

“Sophia mentioned you seemed troubled.”

“I’m fine.” Lita hoped that hadn’t sounded as rude as she thought it did. “I told Uncle Enzo I’d get some of your amaretti for him. He said to tell you he’s sorry he can’t be here himself, but he’s helping Lorenzo scout out office locations.”

“I shall miss his visit as well, but I’m sure to see him sooner or later. I see you and Lorenzo have made it official.” She took Lita’s hand. “A lovely ring, dear. I pray it will be the beginning of many happy years together. Now then,” she said, squeezing Lita’s hand, “can I do anything else for you?” She walked to the bakery case.

“Would you do me a favor,” Lita asked.

“Of course.”

“Would you come over for dinner tomorrow and help me? I’m making Lorenzo’s favorite, risotto and chicken cutlets, and I don’t want to mess it up.”

“I would be happy to. Is there something you wish to talk about? We could go upstairs.”

“Thank you, but I don’t want to take your time. It’s just…” Lita looked into Celeste’s eyes, so calm and understanding, like she remembered her grandma Lawson’s. “Lorenzo and I had a fight, more than one. I don’t think he wants to wait or get married in the church. I love him so much, but I have to do what I feel is right, don’t I?” Lita twisted her ring.

“Lorenzo’s mother, Annamaria, would have been very happy for you both. I’ve known him a long time and you mustn’t let him persuade you into anything you don’t feel good about. He’ll respect you for your convictions, even if he might not like them,” Celeste said as she folded the cookie bag.

“Thank you. You’ll be over tomorrow?”

“Yes, thank you for the invitation.”

Celeste helped Lita pick out the cheese and some olive oil while they discussed risotto, what lettuce was best this time of year, and how Celeste made her amaretti. Lita lingered, knowing she wouldn’t see Lorenzo, and Uncle Enzo would have dinner at his brother Vittorio’s.

“Do you have plans with Lorenzo this evening?”

“No, he and Uncle Enzo will both be out.”

“You’re welcome to join my grandsons and me. You and I haven’t visited in a while.”

Lita thanked her and followed her upstairs where they stored the groceries and chopped vegetables for minestrone soup. The heaviness which had settled on her lightened as they talked, though when Frankie and Michael joined them, it returned. Frankie teased her about her engagement and marrying young. When she reentered the kitchen after going into the bathroom, he was quiet and didn’t say much the rest of the evening. He and Michael offered to walk her home after dinner, but she wanted to try and see Lorenzo for a minute, as Nick’s was on the way.

If Lee was there, Lorenzo could surely step away for a minute or two. She just wanted to tell him she loved him. Maybe his meeting would even be over by now, it was almost seven.

The chill in the air snapped at her as she stepped out onto the brightly light sidewalk. She transferred the grocery bag to her other hand and slid the sore one into the silky pocket of her fitted leather jacket. Taking a deep breath, she smiled to herself in anticipation of seeing Lorenzo and in the enjoyment of the busy neighborhood street, the buzz of traffic and the hum of talk around her. Soon, she saw Nick’s. The large glass window by the front door shimmered, brighter than the street, but yet more like a glow than a harsh light. She stopped for a second, off to the side by the front door, slightly in a shadow.

She gazed in, hoping Lorenzo was seated at the window so she could see if Lee was with him. There was Lorenzo, in a table by the corner. She recognized his strong profile; his short dark hair looked black. She saw his companion more clearly, she partially faced the window. No sign of Lee. Only Lorenzo and this pretty, smiling, laughing blonde who now touched Lorenzo’s arm, now showed him some papers, now brushed his knee. It was some woman he’d dated before—Lita remembered from a picture in the Chronicle last year. They both smiled, they looked so cozy and intimate. Lita’s stomach lurched. Now she knew why people said you could feel your heart in your throat. She watched for a minute more, only to be sure of what she saw, though she couldn’t be sure of her own vision anymore, clouded as it was by the tears swimming in her eyes.

She turned on her heel and fled. The sounds around her weren’t joyful, but just noisy, the staccato din made more unbearable as it was joined by the sound of her boots pounding a steady beat on the cement, the blood coursing through her faster and faster, echoing tha thump tha thump in her ears. Her head ached. She stopped, glanced around, and wiped away her tears. She had missed the street to head home. She partially retraced her steps and focused on her destination.