Believe (4 page)

“Have you seen the DeYoung since they remodeled?”

“No. I’d like to. You and Lee were sure impressed.” Lee and Lorenzo had told her in more detail than she’d understood about the remodel of the museum, a San Francisco landmark. He and Lee both loved architecture, and Lita had enjoyed Lorenzo’s explanations when they’d walked around Sorrento with Lee. But Lorenzo had chosen to major in business in college, while Lee had become an architect. Besides, Lita didn’t really care what they did today. She and Lorenzo were together—that was what mattered. For now.

They walked out and across to the DeYoung. Palm trees swished in the light breeze. They strolled through the sculpture garden—too modern for Lita’s taste, but she smiled, watching the children running and playing, her arm snug in Lorenzo’s. The path led them to the old Pool of Enchantment, with its lily pads and hidden bronze statue of the young brave playing his flute. Entering the tall building, they boarded an elevator to the top.

The glassed-in room looked out over the city. Lita stopped. Lorenzo stood behind her again. Lita leaned into him. The city sloped up in front of them. Buildings, trees, the red spires of the Golden Gate Bridge, and the bay created a picture, familiar and cozy. A feeling of being home—the comfort, thrill, and warmth—flowed through her. San Francisco was home. Lorenzo was home. She’d go anywhere with him and it would be home.

The sky brightened, the sun blazing overhead. Soon they’d have to leave for Uncle Enzo’s.

Her throat tightened with the knowledge that their time together was ending—the fairy tale morning would give way to the reality of afternoon. Like in
The Little Mermaid
, sunset would descend, the lovers parted. But no, not parted forever. Not this time. They just had to pretend for a day or two. Then they could start their happily-ever-after.

Lorenzo tightened his embrace. Maybe he had the same thoughts. Maybe he wanted more time. Maybe…No, she had to have faith in their plan. It would all work out. A little lie wouldn’t hurt, though her father had said all lies besmirch a person’s spirit.

Lita studied Lorenzo’s hands on hers. His fingers, smooth and firm, looked large compared to hers. Protective, safe. Faint scarring blended in with the skin of his knuckles, from when he’d gotten into fights as a teenager—and maybe more recently as well. She noticed the time on Lorenzo’s watch. “Uncle Enzo will be expecting us.” Lita placed her hand over Lorenzo’s.

“Yeah.” He didn’t move. The rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, the steady thump of his heartbeat against her back, made Lita snuggle herself closer to him.

People jostled into them, the room crowding as more tried to see the panoramic view. Lorenzo kissed her ear. Lita placed her hand on his cheek. He kissed her palm and grabbed her hand. They walked out together. If only they could walk together through life, husband and wife.

Chapter Four

Lorenzo kept his mouth clamped shut. He walked with Lita to his car, watching her, hungry to take in her every movement, the way she fingered her hair, the way she held her legs together as she slid into the passenger seat, the way she smiled her playful, innocent smile at him, the way the sun shone on her smooth, tanned skin and danced in the highlights of her hair.

Words, more words than Lorenzo had ever wanted to say, fought, a bloody battle, closing his throat and making his chest ache with the pressure. Dammit.

He drove, distracted by his thoughts, instinctively getting them to Uncle Enzo’s. He parked a little way down the block from the Mediterranean-style house. It held its own on the block with the other mini-mansions, standing out in its Italianate, understated elegance.

Lita turned to him and grabbed his hand before he could exit the car. “Thank you.” She kissed his cheek. Her warm lips, her scent, caused a cease-fire in his mind. His chest expanded. He breathed in.

“We could…” He wanted to take her back to his place, to be with her, show her how he felt.

Lita frowned. His feelings weren’t enough. She knew enough of his player ways and dark moods to not believe what he might say. Words weren’t effective. He fingered her hair. She flickered her eyelids shut, as she might during an orgasm. He swallowed and focused on Uncle Enzo’s up the street. But when he thought he had control, he made the mistake of looking at Lita again.

Her lips curved in a pout, full and rosy…He pushed out a breath, leaned in, and kissed her again. Kisses like theirs made talking pointless. Their lips, their breath, their tongues, spoke every loving thought, every desire. Lita pushed at him. He pulled her closer. She wriggled. He embraced.

Lorenzo’s door whooshed open. A hand grabbed his collar. Lita gasped. Lorenzo swung out. Lee stood, his eyes narrowed, his fists ready. He pushed Lorenzo.

“What the hell?” Lee shoved his shoulder.

Lorenzo’s nostrils flared, but he made no move to defend himself. Lita appeared from the other side of the car and placed her hand on Lee’s arm.

“Lee—”

“No, Lita. I know what I saw.” He turned back to Lorenzo. “She was pushing you away.” Lee shook his head, his tone tight. Lee barely sounded like himself—in one moment, his best friend had become a stranger. “Un-fucking-believable. I thought you respected women, even with all your bullshit. I thought you respected our friendship. I was wrong.”

Lee might as well have punched him in the gut. That’s how it felt.

Lee grabbed Lita’s arm.
“Come on, sweetie.”

“No, Lee, you misunderstood. It was all…I mean…it wasn’t like that.” Lita stood still, but she didn’t look at Lorenzo.

He glanced at his shoes. Lee was right. Lorenzo’d disrespected Lee’s friendship. But he wasn’t ready to declare himself, his feelings for Lita, to everyone. He’d wanted just one day with Lita, without the whole family in their business. Shit.

“Inside, now. Enzo needs to know about this.”

Lorenzo smoothed his shirt. He always faced consequences. They usually weren’t so immediate.

“This has nothing to do with anyone but Lorenzo and me.” Lita’s voice quivered. “He wasn’t doing anything wrong. I wanted—”

“You don’t know him, sweetie. Let’s talk.” Lee wrapped an arm around Lita.

“Fine, we’ll talk.” Lita glanced back at Lorenzo, her eyes, her lips pleading.

He clenched his hands. The tension snapped into his arms, his shoulders, his neck, his jaw, the click of a ratchet strap binding tighter. Lee had talked Lita out of staying with the few guys she’d dated in college, when her father hadn’t. Lorenzo followed Lita and Lee into the house. The scent of lemon and fresh-baked bread greeted him, the same as it had when Aunt Angela was alive.

“Lee, good to see you.” Uncle Enzo greeted them from his usual spot at the old oak kitchen table. Celeste sat next to him, smiling at them.

Lee nodded. “Glad to see you.”

“Something wrong?” Uncle Enzo trained his shrewd eyes on Lorenzo.

“I don’t know that Celeste wants to hear any of this.” Lee held Lita’s arm, which hung limp.

“Celeste is my wife now.” Uncle Enzo grasped Celeste’s hand.

“It’s all right, Enzo, if Lee would rather I leave—” Celeste moved to rise.

“I wouldn’t.” Lita’s voice was firm. She tugged her arm away from her brother.

“Did you get your work done, Lee?” Uncle Enzo tapped his finger on the table.

“I wasn’t working today.”

“Lorenzo said you were. Didn’t Lita stay with you last night?” Uncle Enzo still stared at Lorenzo, though he spoke to Lee.

Lorenzo willed his face to remain impassive. Really it was tight with tension, but to an observer, he’d appear his usual self—cool, controlled, intense.

“No.” Lee glanced at Lorenzo. “I thought she was here.”

“I lied. Not Lorenzo.” Lita stepped toward Lorenzo. He shook his head. “He was a gentleman. You’re all making a big deal out of nothing.”

Lorenzo’s gut did an about face. March out that door. Last night wasn’t nothing. It was everything. Lita was everything good—trust, innocence, hope, love.

“A gentleman?” Lee chuckled derisively. “He was pushing himself on you in his car, Lita. That’s not being a gentleman. Lying, making moves on an innocent girl—”

“I’m not a girl.” Lita’s cheeks pricked with color. Lorenzo ran his hand over his eyes.

“Okay.” Lee turned to Lorenzo. “You want to tell her, or should I?”

“There’s nothing you can tell me, Lee.” Lita walked to the cabinet over the sink, grabbed a glass, and filled it with water. She sipped it, her back to them.

“Lorenzo, so help me…” Uncle Enzo’s face twisted and colored, an angry purplish hue, a bruise long in healing.

Celeste squeezed Uncle Enzo’s hand. “Enzo, why not let them be? They’re both adults. Maybe Lorenzo has made some wrong choices, but who among us hasn’t?”

“I wouldn’t hurt Lita.” Lorenzo choked out the words. Their stares pressed in on him. Lita still had her back to them. She set her glass in the sink.

“You never mean to.” Lee approached him. “But it happens. We both know it. I won’t let you bring Lita into your world.”

Lee was right. Lita belonged in a different world, full of light, hope, faith, goodness. Lorenzo’s world wasn’t any of that.

“I won’t.” Lorenzo nodded at Lee, a solemn promise. “But it’s not my world either. Not for long.”

“Don’t show your face here, Lorenzo.” Uncle Enzo rose.

“Enzo—” Celeste’s tone was disappointed, disapproving.

“No, Celeste. I won’t tolerate this. I warned him to keep his distance from Lita. He’s no better than his father, than my son Sal was. I wouldn’t put up with them…I won’t let Lita suffer, as my niece did, as Sal’s wife did.”

Lorenzo crumpled inside, as if he’d been kicked in the gut.

“Uncle Enzo, don’t say that.” Lita whirled around and rushed to Uncle Enzo. “You don’t mean it…Lorenzo…” She glanced from Uncle Enzo to Lorenzo. She hurt. Lorenzo’d seen that look on his mother’s face over and over. Lorenzo wasn’t his father, but he’d been on his way there—a cold-hearted, arrogant, immoral, cynical bastard.

“Enzo.” Celeste stood. “You’re not seeing clearly—”

“I am.” Uncle Enzo gave an imperious nod.

Celeste sighed. “Enzo, he said he wants to change. Didn’t you hear him?”

Uncle Enzo puffed a breath. “The wolf can don a sheepskin. It doesn’t change who he is.”

Lorenzo tensed, his neck stiff.

“He’s not a wolf, he’s a man, a good man,” Lita said. “Anyone can change, if they really want to, and are given grace.” Lita stepped to him and held his hand.

Lita believed in him. That was enough, for now. He squeezed her hand then released her.

“I’ll go,” Lorenzo said.

“Lorenzo, no…” Lita pleaded.

“It’s okay. Just for today.” He kissed her cheek. She grasped his arm. With a gentle tug, he freed himself. He leaned close to her. “We’ll be together, I promise,” he whispered.

She kissed his cheek, closed her eyes a moment.

“Enzo, this isn’t necessary.” Celeste frowned.

“I think it is.”

“Then I think I’ll go down to the market for a bit. Unless Lita needs me.” Celeste stood beside Lita and touched her arm.

Lita glanced up at her, hugging her arms to her stomach. “I’ll be okay, thanks. Maybe you can help Lorenzo figure something out.”

Celeste nodded. “I’ll be home for dinner.” She took her purse off the chair and walked to Lorenzo. “Would you mind driving me to the market?”

“Not at all.” Lorenzo turned to her. He had to get out of there.

He closed himself down. But where his armor used to protect, numb him, it now constricted, an uncomfortable chink letting in too many sensations, too many feelings.

“Uncle Enzo, please,” Lita continued as he and Celeste walked out. “Nothing happened. We can…”

Lita’s words faded as Lorenzo led Celeste outside. He helped her into his car. He sat in his seat. He held the wheel. He couldn’t move.

“Lorenzo, you are not your father. I’m sure you’ve made mistakes, but I see good in you. So does Lita. You’re so young—you can change.”

His hands slackened and slipped off the wheel. He wanted to believe her words. “I want to change.”

“Then you will.” She patted his cheek, like his mother used to.
He bowed his head. Celeste clasped her hands in her lap. They sat silent a moment.
God, help me.

He started the car and drove down the hill. The sun shone bright, the streets hummed with life and activity. He was alive—he had a chance.

“Enzo is hurt.” Celeste’s voice was quiet. “I say this to you in confidence, in hopes you’ll understand.”

Lorenzo nodded.

“Lita reminds him so much of his Angela…”

Lita did resemble Aunt Angela a lot—Lorenzo hadn’t really thought about it before. Uncle Enzo had loved his wife Angela more than anyone. When she’d died five years before, the family had been concerned for Uncle Enzo, but eventually he’d pulled himself out of his black mood.

“So, Enzo is overprotective of Lita…I think he wants to prevent the kind of hurt he caused Angela, a hurt that he can never fix.”

“What do you mean?” Lorenzo couldn’t imagine Uncle Enzo ever doing anything to hurt Aunt Angela.

“He was unfaithful to Angela when they were younger. She’d forgiven. And at the end, he went against her wishes and tried to get a black market organ for her. He confessed, but it was already too late. She couldn’t speak, and died that day. Enzo has never forgiven himself—for that and for not honoring Angela’s wish that he forgive their son, Sal, in time for her to see it. When you can’t forgive yourself, you can’t really forgive others.”

Lorenzo pulled up outside D’Angelo’s Market. He gripped the steering wheel. Anger gripped him harder. Uncle Enzo had no right to condemn him, to try and keep him from Lita. No one but Lita had that right.

“Thanks for telling me.”

“Please, Lorenzo, make peace with him. He needs you, needs his family. Family—”

“Yeah.” All he needed was Lita. That and to get the hell away from his father. “You have a good day.”

“You too, dear.”

Lorenzo went around and opened the passenger door. He waited until Celeste went inside. Then he drove to the club. He wouldn’t let his father get there first—Lorenzo would be waiting for him this time.

***

Lorenzo sat at his desk in his office. Faint echoes of music and people talking drifted under the door. They weren’t open yet, but most of the staff were there. Glancing down, the picture of him, Lita, and Lee in Italy caught his eye. He moved it from under the blotter and picked it up, touching a finger to Lita’s face. The door slammed open.