The Long Way Home (17 page)

I took the envelope, not opening it in front of them. I was
ashamed of the fact she snuck me money and a ticket. I was broke, almost
completely.

"I don’t know how to thank you."

He looked at Vince who shook his head, "We didn’t know
people were so fucking evil. Your dad is a piece of work. Coach told me he was
told that Mike France was not to be given a contract this year or next. He said
something like it came down from the high-ups, trying to teach him a
lesson."

Will nodded, "Same in New York, but our owner is a bit
of an asshole himself. He isn’t one to be told how to do anything. He knows New
York needs Mike. He doesn’t give a shit about anything else and he doesn’t need
the finances from wealthy investors. He needs wins. That’s what he cares
about."

Vince laughed, "Our owners and managers felt like it was
a trick from the Rangers’ owners to make sure that Mike didn’t get snatched up.
They offered him double to go there."

I frowned, "What?"

He nodded, "And some crazy lady named Muriel Lawson sent
in a huge donation to the team, incentive to offer Mike a contract. He's coming
to Boston, not New York."

I opened my mouth, stunned and speechless.

Will shrugged, "New York is going to miss him, but they
were too slow to offer him a great contract. Boston is lucky. Best right winger
there is in hockey and a dirty scrapper."

I put my hand over Will's, "Thank you. I don’t even know
how to thank either of you but… thank you, anyway." I leapt from the
chair, launching myself at Will. He wrapped around me. I had never been kind to
someone for no reason. I had done it for charity work and for the ability to
say I had done it. I had never been good to someone just because it made me
happy. Here were the two of them, almost complete strangers, helping me because
it was the right thing to do. They didn’t have to hunt me down and help my
sister help me, but they did.

I jumped up and hugged Vince. They both laughed.

Will nodded his head, "Your flight leaves in a few
hours. You better get a move on. A car will be waiting outside of your
apartment in an hour to get you to the airport."

I wiped my teary eyes, "Thank you." I shook my
head, "Thank you."

I turned and left for the wine bar to tell Jon I was
quitting.

Of course when I got there, he already had a glass poured for
us both and a huge grin that told me,
he too had been visited
by the fairy named Brandi
.

He hugged me and sent me on my way.

When I got home she was sitting outside of my building on the
stairs.

I started to cry. I hadn’t seen her in weeks. I had been alone
almost all the time.

She got up, sobbing and wrapping herself around me. I felt
something hitting me. I looked down at her belly. It wasn't perfectly tight and
flat like before. It had a tiny little bump. “Oh my God, is that a baby belly?”

She laughed, "I wanted you to know before you
left."

I snuffled, "Thank you."

She shook her head, "I should have told them to go fuck
themselves years ago. Shawn got a job in Boston working for Muriel. He and I,
along with Muriel, are moving out there to have the baby."

I frowned, "Why is she helping us so much?"

She shook her head, "I don’t know. She just decided she
was moving to Boston and came and asked Shawn if he was happy at his job. He
said no, of course. She offered him the same position at her new company in Boston.
She has a bunch of family there. Her kids moved there. She hates the old house,
reminds her of Mr. Lawson. So we bought a house and sold the one here. Dad told
everyone he fired Shawn and tried to smear his name everywhere, but I think
people are starting to see the little weasel he really is."

I gripped her hands, "I am so happy for you."

She laughed, "Yeah, well. Just wait. You are being named
godmother."

I hugged her again, "What's the date?"

"End of June."

"Congratulations to you both."

She pulled back, "Hurry up and grab a small bag of stuff
for Italy. You have to go."

I started to tear up again, "Thank you."

She grabbed my face, "It's the least I could do after
abandoning you."

I shook my head, "I never wanted to take you down with
me."

She kissed my forehead, "You have ten
minutes—run."

My eyes burned but I lugged my bag through the airport. I had
never taken a red-eye flight before. It was unbearable. At least she had gotten
me first class. I couldn't imagine coach on top of a red eye.

I didn’t know where I was going, beyond the address in my
pocket.

It was colder than I recalled Rome being, not that I had ever
come in December before.

I walked up to an elderly taxi driver and tried my best
Italian on him. He smiled, "You an American?"

I narrowed my gaze, "Maybe."

He opened the door for me. I passed him the address,
"You know this place?"

He nodded, "I know it." His English was far
superior to my Italian. He looked back, "You a cowgirl?"

I laughed, "No. New Yorker."

He pointed, "Rudest people in the world. I saw the show
the other night on Discovery Channel."

I laughed and nodded, "That sounds about right."

"I don’t care. I still want to go, one day. Is my dream.
"
He drove like a madman through the streets to a
hotel, not just any hotel. He was staying at the
Boscolo
Aleph.

I frowned, "This is it?"

He nodded.

I got out and looked up at the huge stone building with the
large red flag and beautiful, red front door. I had never stayed, but I knew of
it. The architecture of it was something I had studied.

"Isn't this the ‘five sins’ hotel?"

"Yes! You are a smart New Yorker."

I paid him and walked up to the door. The handsome doorman
got the door for me. I walked inside and went directly to the elevator. The
piece of paper had the floor number for me. I pressed it, surprised there was
no elevator operator.

When the elevator got to the floor, I walked out, praying he
was home, and yet, somehow also not home. I didn’t want to face the music and
explain everything. I just wanted us to be like we were before.

I put my hand up to knock but I heard a sound I hadn’t been
prepared for, like an idiot. A woman laughed.
Of course.
It was France. Of course some hot Italian woman was there. I almost turned away
but something inside of me forced my hand to knock.

A lady answered. She was stunning—a model for certain.
She cocked an eyebrow, "Can I help you?" She had a thick accent.

"Is Mike here?"

She looked me up and down and laughed, "Mike, the door is
for you." Her mocking tone almost made me jump her but she didn’t know me.
She underestimated me. I looked like
slightly-warmed
shit, I was sure, but Mike didn’t care. The minute he saw me, his face grew
into a huge grin, "No fucking way?" He pointed at me, "Are you
real?"

I nodded.

He nearly shoved her out of the way and scooped me up into
his arms. He nuzzled into my neck and took a deep breath, like he was breathing
me. He dragged me into the room.

"Michael, what is going on?"

He put me down and looked me over, "You okay?"

I nodded again, unable to speak without crying and telling
him everything all at once. He lifted my wedding finger, "No ring?"

I shook my head.

"Getting a divorce already?"

"I never got married. You knew that."

The model stomped between us, "Michael, who is this?
Your little sister?"

I felt my eyes narrow but he ignored her, "You never
ended up marrying him afterwards? I knew the day was ruined but the
relationship is over?"

I frowned, "Where have you been? It was in the
paper."

He laughed, "Jack, I never read a single thing. I just
shut down and came here. I knew Phil had followed me out that day; he was
pissed, but I figured your dad would have everything patched up by now."

I glanced at the model, putting my hand out, "Jacqueline
Croix."

She smiled sarcastically, "Daniela."

He didn’t notice us talking. He just stared at me. I looked
at him and then her, "If I'm interrupting, I can just wait for you
downstairs."

She nodded, "I'll call down and get you a room ready."

I was being dismissed. I slapped France on the shoulder,
"I'll meet you downstairs then."

He nodded, "Meet me in the red library in five
minutes."

I left the room, not looking back. It wasn’t the reunion I
had expected, but all I could do was hope he would listen. And maybe not bring
the model.

I took the elevator to the lobby and asked about the red
library. The front-desk person pointed me in the right direction. I was a
little
weirded
out that it was a library without
books, but the whole hotel looked like Ikea, instead of the huge, stone Roman
building it was on the outside.

I sat and waited. My stomach was in my throat. The modern
decorations made it worse.

I was lost in space and a terrible place mentally, when the
door opened and he slipped inside. He closed the door. The initial joy of
seeing me was gone. He looked nauseous. It made me feel worse.

He sat across from me on the odd and uncomfortable chair. He
looked like he might break it. He was bigger, beefier than before. He must have
been working out hard.

"How's it going?"

I shook my head, "I don’t know."

He gave me a hard look, "Look, I owe you an apology. I
acted like an asshole and ruined your wedding. I know you never chose me and I
had no right to do it."

I shook my head again, "France, I chose you. I still
choose you."

He flinched, "Jack, me and Daniela, we're
uhhhh
…"

I put a hand out, "I know. I gathered that. I just
needed to see you. I missed you."

He looked sickened, "I miss you too."

I stood, clearing my throat, "So, I'll see you around
then." I quickly ran out the door. Daniela was at the front desk, beaming
at me. She pointed and a man came over, "Ms. Croix, of course you must
stay the night with us. Ms.
Rabissi
was just telling
us who you are."

I smiled, the breeding and good manners were there for life,
there was no fighting that. I couldn’t just walk away. I had to be polite.
"Thank you, sir. You are too kind."

He passed me a room
key,
"We
have you in an executive suite. Is this your only bag?" He eyed up my
small carry-on bag. I nodded and passed it to the bellhop, awkwardly standing
in the circle.

He turned for the elevators. I smiled again, "Thank you
so much. Good evening."

I turned and followed after the young man with my single bag.
I had no nice clothes or shoes or anything. I had only the jeans and tee shirts
and sweaters I had packed. My room was nice, but again, modern. It didn’t have
the romantic feel of Rome, which might have been good, considering where my
heart was. I tried to feel something but there was nothing. I was blank inside.
I started unpacking when there was a knock at the door.

It was Daniela and France.

"Hi."

She walked into my room, "We were wondering if you
wanted to have dinner with us?"

I opened my mouth to say no, when France shook his head,
"She is probably beat. That’s a long flight."

Daniela took my hand, "You must."

I smiled, "I never came prepared for dinner out. I came
on a whim, hoping to see Mike play with the Italians."

She beamed, "He plays tomorrow; last game before we go
to Boston and I say goodbye to my beloved Roma."

I smiled through the pain of the reality she was going to
Boston, not me. "Why don’t we just agree to meet tomorrow then, and I will
watch the game with you."

She tilted her head, "Yes, alright. That works well
too." She looked over at France, "Doesn't it, Michael?"

His face was still stunned, "What? Yeah, sure." I
could only assume he was shocked I was there. Or that he was with someone else
and I was available. We just never seemed to get it right.

My tears were barely holding themselves at bay. He gave me a
desperate look, "So dinner then?"

I frowned, "No, the game tomorrow."

He shook his head, "I'll have some clothes sent up. Take
a nap and we'll see you this evening downstairs. Seven?"

I wanted to argue, but I was about to burst so I just nodded,
"Sure."