Changing Scenes (Changing Teams #2) (13 page)

Chapter

Twenty-Five

Donato

After battling some of the worst Christmas Eve traffic in recent memory, I pulled up at my grandmother’s place in New Bedford. It was a white and blue raised ranch that took up half the block, a large but unassuming house that was built over a century ago, back when poor people had a ton of kids and needed someplace to put them. Okay, I guess that was still a thing.

Technically the house belongs to my parents, but there’s a story behind that. Apparently my parents hated this place, but ended up buying it anyway because of the in-law apartment—that included a full kitchen—on the lower level. My mother, wise woman that she is, knew that the only way she’d ever get her own kitchen was if my grandmother had a place of her own to hold court. It was also the only place they could afford that had enough bedrooms for all of us, but that was a secondary consideration. And so the house had always been known as Grandma’s Place.

My sisters, brother, and I had long since moved out, but man, those extra bedrooms came in handy during the holidays. Between my siblings and their significant others, they had produced eleven kids over the years, and Amelia’s pregnancy was bringing the horde to an even dozen. Which meant that for the past few years I’d approached the holidays with a bit of dread, since at the ripe old age of twenty-nine I had no wife and no kids, and everyone had to weigh in on why I was still single. My explanations that I’d just never found the right girl were never good enough, but I couldn’t use that excuse this year. While I hadn’t been paying attention the right girl had wandered right into my restaurant.

I stared at the house for a moment, then I grabbed my phone from the cup holder and read the last text I’d gotten from Astrid for the hundredth time. It had come through while I was driving, so I hadn’t replied yet. What I had done was smile all the way through the holiday traffic.

Astrid: Miss you. Let’s ditch our families and stay in bed for Xmas.

Now that I wasn’t in danger of breaking any laws, I sent off my reply.

Donato: Can’t. My grandmother would kill both of us.

Donato: Come home with me for Easter.

And, silence. I tried not to read too much into it, since she could be away from her phone, showering, sleeping…then my phone vibrated.

Astrid: You really want me to?

Donato: Yeah. Meet the family and all.

Donato: They’ll love you, almost as much as I do.

Fuck, I just told Astrid I loved her in a text message. That was just lame; it was the truth, but I could have done way better. I’d been planning to find another free weekend to take her somewhere, and figure out how she felt before I went and made an ass of myself. I should have known better than to underestimate that aspect of my personality. At least I hadn’t written it on a Post-It note.

Astrid: OK then. Easter it is. I’m all yours.

I laughed out loud; either Astrid loved me back, or she’d glossed over my little declaration. Right then, I’d take either.

Donato: Great!

Donato: I’ll call you later, babe.

Astrid: I’ll be waiting ;)

I turned off my phone and got out of the car, leaving my bag and the presents for my nieces and nephews in the back for now, and jogged up the steps to the front door. I entered without knocking, steeling myself for the chaos. Don’t get me wrong, I loved me some family chaos, but all the kids all at once can be pretty intense.

The house was quiet as a tomb.

What the…“Hello?”

“In here.”

I followed my sister Amelia’s voice to the front room, and saw her perched on the window seat. The place was decked out for Christmas, with the crèche in its place before the hearth, and platters of food set out on the table. The rest of my family, however, was nowhere to be found.

“Hey, sis.” I sat next to her and jerked my chin toward her belly. “How’s the latest bun baking?”

“Funny,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “How was your drive?”

“Not bad. Where are the kids?”

“Dad and Afonso took them sledding,” Amelia replied. “As for the rest, Lucia and Mom ran to the store, and Grandma’s downstairs with Julia and Brian,” she added, referring to two of my sibling’s significant others.

“Where’s Alex?” I asked. Amelia and Alex had been inseparable since they met six years ago. The fact that she was sitting here alone on Christmas Eve was just weird.

“He had to work.”

“On Christmas?”

Amelia patted her belly. “Yeah, well, now that this one’s coming we really need to move. That apartment’s too small as it is.”

“I hear ya.” I thought about my condo, which was on the small side but perfect for me. However, if Astrid moved in with her shoe collection…actually, I didn’t think her shoe collection would fit.

I had some money saved, and wondered if it was time to put a down payment on a house. We could get one between the restaurant and the city, and both of us could commute for our jobs. Then again, Astrid didn’t have a car, so we’d have to buy her one. Since my Jeep was paid off I could handle a car payment, though I hated having monthly expenses. Mortgage and utilities were more than enough for me.

Does Astrid even have a driver’s license? And does she want to live with me?

“Earth to Donnie,” Amelia said.

“Huh? Sorry. Just thinking too hard.”

“Uh-huh. What’s her name?”

“What makes you think it’s a her?”

“She the same one you were texting in the car?” Amelia countered. “The one you were laughing and smiling about?”

“My own sister spying on me,” I said, shaking my head. “What has this world come to?”

“At least I’m not as bad as Mom,” she said. “She’s been trolling you on those social media sites, looking for pictures of you with girls. And Leela’s mother told Mom you were seeing someone.”

“Do not listen to Leela, or her mother, about anything,” I snapped. I needed to talk to Christa about having that troublemaker scheduled only on the days I wasn’t working.

Amelia touched my forearm. “She bugging you?”

“Yes. No.” My head drooped forward, and I continued, “I just wish she didn’t work at my restaurant. She’s nothing but talk, you know?”

“I do,” Amelia agreed. “She’s always been a whack job. But still, when her mother told ours you were out with a girl, Mom was all sorts of thrilled.”

I rubbed my eyes, not at all surprised by this information. I also wouldn’t be surprised if my mother and grandmother drugged me, threw a bag over my head, and dragged me to a pre-arranged wedding to a nice Catholic girl.

“You women are all crazy,” I muttered.

“Sure are.” Amelia grinned. “C’mon, you got a picture of this girl? Show your favorite sister.”

“Right now Lucia’s my favorite.” I turned on my phone and swiped to the selfie of me and Astrid I’d taken the first night we went to the fish market. It wasn’t the best picture of me, since I’d had almost two days’ worth of stubble, dark circles under my eyes, and I was wearing a black knit cap pulled low over my eyebrows; if anything I looked like a burglar. Astrid, on the other hand, was all sparkling green eyes and rosy cheeks as she smiled for the camera. God, she was beautiful.

“Wow,” Amelia said. “Where’d you find her, a lingerie ad?”

“Funny you should say that.” I swiped to another picture, this one of Astrid lounging on my couch wearing black stretchy pants and one of my shirts. I’d taken it on Sunday afternoon, long after we’d gotten back from brunch and grocery shopping. “She’s a model.”

“Shut up.” Amelia tried grabbing my phone, but there was no way I was letting her swipe through my pictures. Especially not the shower pictures. “Come on, I want to see my pretty new future sister-in-law.”

“Picking out wedding colors for us already?” I asked. “We haven’t even been together that long.”

Amelia shrugged. “Love is love. I knew I loved Alex after a few days. Why wait and miss out on time you could be with her?”

“Good point.” I angled my phone away from Amelia and flipped through my pictures, lingering over one that Astrid didn’t even know about. After we’d made the
pastel de natas
on Saturday, she’d curled up on the couch for a nap. Every time I looked at her sleeping at my place I imagined that all our Saturdays were like that, with us cooking together and making love and napping. That was the life I wanted, and I wanted it with Astrid.

“When did my littlest sister get so smart?” I wondered.

“Always have been,” she replied. “It’s why I’m your favorite.”

I grunted and returned my attention to the image of Astrid napping. Amelia was right, I should figure out how Astrid felt about me sooner rather than later. I didn’t want to miss out on a single moment when it came to my girl.

Chapter

Twenty-Six

Astrid

This year my brother, Bruce, had succeeded in getting us reservations at the trendiest restaurant in Manhattan for Christmas dinner. That meant that Mom was proud, Dad was pissed, Bruce was smug, and I was just hungry. Once I’d looked over the menu, I was pissed as well; it featured items such as overpriced lamb and chicken entrees, and a beef Wellington that was over one hundred dollars a plate. What I wouldn’t have given for a slightly burnt frittata and bright yellow pastries.

I laughed to myself; when had I, of all people, decided that simpler was better?

“What’s so funny?” my brother demanded.

“Oh, nothing,” I said, closing my menu and setting it on my plate. “I was just in the mood for Portuguese food.”

“Well, I think this restaurant is excellent,” Mom gushed. “Another win, Bruce.”

Bruce nodded gracefully while Dad continued frowning. The competitiveness between my father and brother was an odd family dynamic, and not one I’d ever enjoyed. They were both doctors, Dad an orthopedic surgeon while Bruce was a pediatrician, and they competed for awards and media recognition. As soon as one offered up a donation or
pro bono
services for a cause, the other just had to step up, all fake smiles and gigantic handwritten checks to obscure medical foundations. All this competitiveness was encouraged by my mother, who bragged endlessly about her boys and how proud she was of both of them.

Yeah, that’s not creepy in the slightest.

While all this was going on, I’d managed to fade into the background. When I was younger it annoyed me that my father and brother got all of my mother’s attention, but now that I was an adult I liked being left alone. Besides, I was far too busy with my own problems to get involved in Dad and Bruce’s pissing contest.

“Why Portuguese food?” Dad asked, probably plotting his next one-upmanship of Bruce.

“I had some recently, and it was very good,” I replied. “Remember my friend Britt? The restaurant hosting the rehearsal dinner for her wedding does a lot of Portuguese specialties.”

“Is it in the city?” Bruce asked.

“No, Connecticut.”

Bruce grunted and returned his attention to the menu. He was one of those New Yorkers who rarely ventured outside the city, and even then only under extreme duress. In his eyes the rest of the world was populated by savages, the sort of beasts that paired red wine with fish and chicken. Based on that weekend I’d spent with Donnie, I wondered if Bruce had things backwards.

My phone buzzed, and when I grabbed it from my purse I saw a text from Mr. Chef himself.

Donato: What kind of shoes were you wearing at Kendra’s show?

Astrid: Kind?

Donato: Name brand.

Astrid: Manolo Blahnik. Why?

Donato: Kendra’s show is on TV. My sisters like the shoes you wore.

Astrid: :)

“Really, Astrid,” Mom said. “Texting at Christmas dinner?”

“Sorry,” I said, then I set my phone down in my lap. I glanced around the restaurant, at the starched linen tablecloths and the impeccable waitstaff, and imagined Donnie surrounded by his family, laughing with his siblings, playing football in the yard with his nieces and nephews…and his offer of going home with him for Easter. My answer was a no-brainer. I knew where I wanted to be that day, and it wasn’t anywhere near Manhattan.