To Tuscany with Love (20 page)

Thank God. The deception had ended.

“So all this while, you’ve been writing books, doing book signings, the whole bit? Am I the last to know you’re a successful writer?”

“Oh, David. No one but my editor, Edie, knows. I’ve never done a book tour or a signing. I write under a pseudonym. I kept it that way to protect you.” Protect you from becoming like Phillip, she thought.

“Protect me?” David snorted in disgust. “You don’t clean apartments at all anymore, do you?” Ice tinged his words.

“Yes, I do.”

“Just ours?”

“Yes.”

David pushed up from the table and leaned forward on it. He slammed the bottom of his fist against the table-top. “Why the charade? Why the hell couldn’t you tell me?”

He paced up and down across the tiny kitchen. “Do you have any idea how many rich kids from my honors classes I took to the alleys? How I beat them up as payback for mocking me at school? And there were always the poor kids who laughed at me for caring so much about my homework.” He glared at her. “I got it from both ends. Because of you.”

Those strong hands gripped the edge of the table. He leaned forward toward Bella. “Why? Why couldn’t you tell me?” David’s voice grew quieter. “Why not let me celebrate with you? I would have been so proud of you.”

After all my efforts, did I still fail? She couldn’t bear that thought. Had David become as two-faced and money-grubbing as Phillip? She had to ask the question. “And you weren’t proud of me as a maid?”

His face crumbled and his head bowed. When he looked up, his face had softened. “I was. Proud of you. But—“

“That’s why I did it.” She jumped up from the table. “You have always been more precious to me than life itself.” She paused to frame her words. “I’ve known people who used others, and lied, just for money.” Her voice dropped in volume. “I’ve seen firsthand how valuing money and position can hurt a person, or hurt someone who loves them.”

She swallowed, choking down the hurt and loneliness that threatened to surface from those dark days when she was alone, the days before David was born. “I loved you so much. I always will.”

She touched his face with her fingertips.

“I wanted to teach you to respect people in all walks of life. And it worked. Look at you. You’re intelligent, at college on an academic scholarship. You have always cared about people, regardless of whether they were rich or poor.”

David stood erect as a statue, his arms still and limp at his sides. She couldn’t read his face.

He spoke so softly that she strained to hear his voice over the traffic noise, the music, and the muffled voices from the apartment next door.

“What was your number one rule for me?”

Oh, no. Don’t make me say it. Bella bit her bottom lip.

“What was it, Mom? Tell me, would you?”

Her eyes sought his. She blinked to halt the tears that floated over her eyes. She’d said it so often that she didn’t even need to think. This time, however, her words broke and she stuttered halfway through. “Whatever happens, the most ... most important thing is to always,” she paused, “always be honest with people. The t-truth is always better.”

David turned and walked out of the apartment without a word.

“No. No.” Bella pounded her fist against the door. She flung it open. “David.” She yelled down the stairwell. Bella listened for his footsteps. She ran for the steps. Her foot slipped. She tripped and tumbled down, banging her elbow, knees, and shoulder.

Bella collapsed in a heap on the landing as if she were a pile of rotting garbage. “David.” She listened.

No more footsteps.

The silent balloon of loss and loneliness surrounded her; it pressed and pushed against her. This same suffocating weight had hovered over her once before. That time, it had been the day she learned that Phillip didn’t choose her.

22

New York, New York

D
avid, a year out of college now, had called her this morning. Talking to David always gave her a reason to celebrate.

He had refused to speak to Bella, or meet her, for months after that fateful dinner with his shallow girlfriend. Thank God that girl never resurfaced. Eventually, Bella had worn David down. Finally, one day when she had called, he answered. They had met here the first time, in Central Park. A long walk had mended the rift, at least enough for him to allow Bella back into his life.

Today was a perfect spring day for a jog in the park, and Bella joined the throngs doing just that. The warm afternoon stretched out her stride, and Bella decided to double her normal jog around the reservoir. Brilliant pink and white cherry blossoms lined the path. A slight breeze fluttered through the trees, lifting stray petals off and sending them drifting down as if they were lazy confetti. She filled her lungs with the roselike scent and lifted her face to the sun.

Heavy footfalls, likely belonging to a man, approached her from behind. Bella edged to the side of the narrow path. The male jogger came up beside her and matched her stride. Bella kept her eyes on the trees, hoping he’d get the hint that she wasn’t interested and run on ahead.

“Bella?” the man said, a hint of a Southern accent drawing out the question.

It was a voice from long ago. Stillman. Bella glanced at the man beside her and saw an older version of her friend from that summer abroad. His hair, once auburn, had morphed into a close-cropped white. But his handsome face, now with wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, was the same.

She grabbed his arm. “Stillman!”

They both slowed their pace, and then she lurched into him in an awkward hug. Another runner swerved to miss them. Stillman pulled her to the very edge of the path. Once safely out of the way, he drew her into his arms.

The warmth of his body next to hers was both comforting and, she had to admit, exciting. Bella hadn’t had sex with a man for more years than she cared to think about.

Stepping out of the embrace, Stillman moved his hands to clasp hers. “This is incredible,” he said, “running into you—no pun intended—here in Central Park. Do you live here?”

She nodded. Smiling at him, Bella asked if he lived here, too, and where he was practicing medicine.

“I’m an entertainment attorney with a big firm here in the city,” he said. “Decided law suited me better than medicine.” He chuckled. “Judging by my bank account and those of my physician friends, it was a good choice.”

His fingers rubbed the ring finger of her left hand.

“Does the absence of a ring here mean you’re not married?”

Bella burst out laughing. “You cut to the chase, don’t you?”

“Just getting the ground rules established, my dear.”

“Not married. Actually, never married.”

“Perfect,” Stillman said. “Same for me.” He glanced at the chronograph watch on his wrist. “Damn, I’d love to stay and talk, but I’ve got a client meeting. Will you let me take you to dinner, so I have a chance to find out what you’ve been doing all these years?”

They arranged a dinner date for Saturday night, planning to meet at a well-known restaurant on the Upper East Side.

Bella watched Stillman speed away on the running path. Her body prickled with anticipation. She knew one thing for certain. After her run and a shower, she was going shopping for a new dress.

Bella loved the way candlelight made a man look sexy.

Stillman, she decided, didn’t need the candles. He was sexy in his running shorts and was beyond sexy in his tailored suit.

They covered all the easy subjects, which meant she didn’t mention David. He likely assumed that since she’d never married, she was childless. If she was going to see Stillman again, Bella figured she could tell him about David then. Well, maybe a slimmed-down version of the truth. And if this was it—no second date—Bella saw no merit in opening that can of worms.

Before he had a chance to ask her more questions, she brought up that summer abroad. “What happened to us, Stillman?”

His eyes narrowed. “Phillip got there first.”

Something in his tone of voice disturbed her. “You were ill. The flu. That’s why he was there.”

Stillman lifted his wineglass to his lips and took a sip, all the while staring at her with an intensity that sliced through the distance between them.

The chill in the air was palpable. “Stillman?”

Cold, steel eyes met hers. “Phillip turned off my alarm.”

She sunk back against her chair. “You weren’t sick?”

He shook his head.

“Phillip told me you were dreadfully sick. Married to the porcelain god. You never seemed upset, with either Phillip or me. If he did that to you ...”

“Believe me, he did it.” Stillman cleared his throat. “I went through the gamut of emotions that weekend, while you were off with our buddy Phillip. Disbelief, anger, hurt. Eventually, I realized that if you were with him all weekend, it was because you wanted to be. That for some incomprehensible reason, you chose him over me, regardless of how he arranged it.”

He shrugged. “It became an easy choice for me. I lost your love. I didn’t want to lose your friendship, too.”

She reached out and placed her hand over his on the table.

He cocked one eyebrow. “Typical of Phillip, wasn’t it? To lie?”

An icy chill ran from Bella’s temples to the tips of her nipples. What did Stillman mean by that? Had he, somehow, found out that Phillip had lied to her, too? While Phillip was with her in Italy, he was engaged to someone else. Did Stillman know that Phillip had dumped Bella for the promise of a cushy job?

She lowered her head. “So true. So very true.” She had to change the subject off this dangerous ground. “What matters,” she said, squeezing his hand, “is that today you and I are here, together. I can’t believe that all these years we lived so close to each other but never knew it. I’d like to renew our friendship, if that’s OK with you. Could we meet again soon?”

Stillman smiled. “How about Tuesday night? One of my partners’ wives is curating an exhibit at a small art gallery. There’s going to be an opening-night cocktail party. Can you join me? We could have a late dinner afterwards.”

Honesty was imperative. She couldn’t bear the thought of being deceived again, and so asked the question that would set the ground rules going forward. “Yes, I’ll meet you at the gallery. But I don’t want there to be any misunderstandings between us. I have to ask. Are you dating or in a relationship with anyone now?”

“Whoa, girl.” He chuckled. “Aren’t you the direct one? Don’t get me wrong—I love you taking it to the hoop. No. I’m not dating or in a relationship with anyone now. And, yes, in case it’s your next question, I’d love to be dating you. We’ll figure out the relationship part as we go along, if that suits you.”

After the art gallery party, Bella and Stillman had a late dinner, followed by a tender kiss goodnight. That kiss left Bella wanting more.

They had dinner together almost every night for the next two weeks, being apart only when Stillman had a business dinner. Even though they met at the restaurants, Stillman insisted on seeing her home afterwards. Each night, Stillman kissed her goodnight as they parted but always refused to come into her apartment. It drove Bella mad.

Finally, she asked him why he refused to come inside.

“My dear,” Stillman said, “don’t you really know why? If I walk into your apartment, I won’t want to leave until morning. So, be kind to me, will you? Don't invite me inside anymore, not unless you’re inviting me into your bedroom.”

With that knowledge, Bella turned and unlocked her door. She held out her hand to Stillman and led him inside.