Lucia kicks in her high chair, arms stretching out for me to lift her. Unfastening the buckles, I pick her up and carry her to the window overlooking the backyard, where a couple of robins are building a nest in the tree off the patio.
For some reason, I think of my house back in Malibu. Statuesque and grand, sitting empty next to the ocean shore. Filled with trophies, memorabilia, Italian sports cars, and a handful of priceless art works, but also filled with things that don’t matter.
A rare two-point-six acres of ultra-private, ultra-exclusive water frontage.
Cedar ceilings, granite walls, and automated glass partitions.
A chef’s kitchen personally designed by Alain Ducasse.
An infinity-edge pool, state-of-the-art tennis court, and grotto spa.
An architectural triumph with which I have no one to share.
Things you can’t take with you in the end.
Maybe it’s human nature to complicate things, to constantly wish for the next best, brightest, shiniest, newest thing. My entire life I’ve been grinding toward various goals, convinced that the second I got there I’d finally get to rest, and I’d finally get to be happy.
But standing here, watching these robins build their nest one branch at a time, my infant daughter in my arms and her mother in the next room—I’m flooded with a peace I’ve never known before.
Could it be this is the happiness I’ve been chasing all this time?
Chapter 17
Rossi
* * *
“Okay, I’m confused,” Dan says over lunch Tuesday. At the last minute, he invited me out to this new café walking distance from our neighborhood, and since Carina has the baby all day and Fabian was at practice then an afternoon of meetings, I figured I might as well.
Only I’m certain the invitation had less to do with the fanfare about this place and more to do with Dan’s curiosity over my current situation.
“So you know Fabian Catalano from a long time ago,” he says. “And you recently reconnected.”
I nod, taking a swig of still water. “Basically.”
“And he’s in town,” Dan continues, “but instead of staying at some fancy hotel downtown … he’s living with you?”
“Exactly.” I spread the white linen napkin over my lap before folding it in half. A black Range Rover passes, stealing my attention, only it isn’t him.
Ever since we messed around Saturday night, things have been … interesting.
He’s been keeping his hands to himself—and his gorgeous lips too—but I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve caught him staring at me, either lost in thought or lingering on a part of my body he knows he can’t touch.
“How is he with Lucia?” Dan asks.
“They adore each other. Two peas in a pod,” I say.
“Nice.” His tone is flat. He wants to be happy for me, I’m sure. But this has to be difficult for him.
Our server drops off a fresh bread basket. “Your food will be out shortly. Here’s a little something to tide you over.”
“Thank you,” I say, diving in.
“What kinds of food does Fabian eat?” Dan asks.
“What?” I chuckle.
“What does a world-famous athlete eat on a daily basis? I’ve always wondered. I know they do those magazine interviews sometimes, but I’ve never believed them. They always seemed too perfect.”
“He’s pretty disciplined,” I say. “Lots of protein shakes and superfood smoothies. Lots of fish and chicken.”
Granted, it’s only been less than a week since he moved in …
Though it feels longer.
It’s the strangest thing—he’s been in my life less than two weeks, but I swear I’ve known him my whole life, that’s how comfortable I am with him.
“You’re glowing,” Dan says.
I swallow a hard lump if bread. “Glowing? How?”
“I don’t know, you just seem radiant or something. Did you change your hair?”
I shake my head. “No?”
“You’re smiling more …”
Frowning, I say, “No, I’m not.”
“Every time a black SUV goes by, you glance out the window,” Dan adds.
“What are you getting at?” I grab another slice of bread while it’s still warm.
He hasn’t touched a single one.
“I think there’s more going on between you than you’re letting on.” Disappointment colors his face, and my chest squeezes.
I hate keeping secrets from Dan when he’s become such a good friend to me, but I also don’t want to hurt him. And if the truth behind Fabian’s visit ever got out, it would hurt both Fabian and Lucia.
“I can assure you it’s nothing,” I say.
And that’s the truth.
Sure my heart flip-flips every time he walks in the room. Sure I pass the hall bath after his daily shower just to catch a whiff of his intoxicating body wash. And maybe I replay last Saturday in my head more times than I should. But it’s still nothing.
We got carried away after a few of Carina’s appletinis—and after the stressful week we’d each had, we needed a release.
I’m not falling for him.
And he’s simply trying to show that he’s worthy enough to stay in Lucia’s life, that’s why he’s being so helpful and accommodating.