28
Two days later, I stood on the front porch of Nonna’s house, bouncing slightly from foot to foot while I waited for Xavier to arrive. I dressed up even more than usual for a Sunday in my favorite green polka-dotted wrap dress that flounced around my knees and matched my eyes. The sun was shining, matching the bright yellow gerbera daisies blooming on the porch. A few blocks away, Arthur Avenue was a hub of tourists and locals alike enjoying the weather with a la fresca lunch, but I barely noticed anything other than the fact that every car that drove past for the last thirty minutes was not the big black Mercedes.
To put it lightly, I was a ball of nerves.
Because Xavier was late. A last-minute emergency at the restaurant had prevented him from coming to Mass. Our revised plan was to take Sofia to a park as soon as he arrived, tell her the truth about Xavier, and then take her for gelato before bringing him home to meet the rest of the family.
But the May weather cooperated a little too well, and so when another text from Xavier informed me that traffic was delaying him even more, I couldn’t for the life of me come up with a reasonable excuse to keep Sofia from joining her cousins at the park without letting the cat out of the bag. And so here I was, wondering what the hell I was supposed to say to my sisters when Sofia’s genetic code walked through the door without a word of warning.
Finally, a familiar Mercedes pulled up to the house and Xavier jumped out of the back and practically ran up the porch steps. Clearly, he was stressed too, if the way his hair was pulled in odd directions was any indicator. His collar was also standing up on one side, and his tie, a pretty blue thing that matched his eyes and stood out from the otherwise classic white shirt and black suit he was wearing for the occasion, was yanked loose and into a horribly tight knot.
“She’s still at the park?” He looked up at the house from the third step.
“Yes,” I said as I strode to meet him. “Come here. You’re a mess.”
He waited patiently while I straightened his tie and collar, then smoothed back his hair. Our eyes met as I pushed back that errant lock.
“Thanks,” he said softly.
I pressed my lips together, resisting the urge to look at his. We hadn’t been this close in months, but I hadn’t forgotten that salty-sweet scent of his. The one that made me want to throw my arms around his neck and kiss him until I forgot his name.
Stop it, I told myself. You’re mad at him, remember? Focus.
I stepped back. “Look, I know we were going to find her and tell her first, but my family already knows something’s up because I’ve been out here for the last fifteen minutes. I guarantee at least four of Nonna’s friends have already spotted us, and if you don’t come in soon, the whole neighborhood will be calling to ask who Frankie is talking to on the front step.”
Xavier smiled grimly, reaching up to yank at his collar before I batted his hand away. “Basically, I’m fucked either way, is what you’re saying.”
I shrugged. “Yes. But I wouldn’t use that language around Nonna if I were you.”
That just earned me an eye roll. “She has a swear jar too? Ces, I’m not here for them. I’m here for Sof. Let’s just go get her. Fuck the neighbors.”
Above us, the second-floor curtains twitched—a telltale sign that at least one of my sisters had already spotted who was here.
I turned back to Xavier. “Look at it this way—at least if she freaks out on us, she’ll have six other shoulders to cry on. Just come in and get it over with. We’ll find Sofia and get us all some gelato to numb the shock.”
The thought did not seem to comfort him, but he followed me inside, nonetheless, with the posture of a pirate being led to walk the plank.
Well, it wasn’t far off.
“Frankie!”
The hammering of two pairs of feet down Nonna’s old creaky stairs greeted us, followed by Joni and Marie toppling into the foyer, one after the other. Ah, the spies.
“Helloooo, Mr. Blue Eyes,” Joni greeted Xavier with her patented flirtatious smile. “First Mattie, then you? What is in the water in Brooklyn, huh?”
“Pleasure to meet you,” Xavier said stiffly, offering a hand.
“Oh my God, that voice!” squealed Joni, clutching her shirt with glee. “You sound just like Tom Hiddleston! Frankie, where did you meet this one, and does he have a brother?”
“Joni, can you take it down a notch or ten?” I asked, although I was a little relieved. At least she wasn’t giving him the third degree.
Marie, however, wasn’t so easily distracted.
“You look familiar,” she said, pushing her glasses up her nose as she peered up at Xavier. “Have we met before?”
“Er, I don’t think so,” Xavier said, looking slightly uncomfortable with her sudden close proximity.
“Maybe from the papers?” Marie pushed. “Or do you know the Lyons from Westchester? Carmichael and Kathleen?”