Chat Love (18 page)

Jackson takes a sip of his wine. “Yes. I’m the only one living here.”

I push him for more, “Because of your ex-fiancé?”

His eyes darken and his mouth tightens into a thin line. “Yes,” he answers, offering no further explanation. Luckily for him, my questioning is soon interrupted by the arrival of our food as the two of us dig in, both hungry after the excitement of the auction

The rest of lunch is spent talking more about Jackson’s childhood in London. I begin to understand him in a way I never had before as I watch him discussing his childhood, family, and friends from home. Not once, however, does he mention his ex, and because he’s bought me such a nice lunch and expensive painting for my birthday, I decide to let the topic drop. We continue to enjoy our meal, and I finish lunch feeling as though I know him better than I ever have. After thanking him many times for both my gift and lunch, I leave him with an innocent kiss on the cheek and head home in order to change for dinner with my parents. I’m supposed to be meeting them at one of my favorite restaurants in the city, Cipriani, at eight o’clock. True to form, the restaurant is Italian, and I’m really only excited about the food.

After getting ready, I hail a cab and climb in, already nervous about dinner with my family. I know that I’m going to be interrogated about my dating life, and I also know that Gabriella is going to be flaunting her pregnant belly. Still, they aren’t my only distraction; I can’t stop thinking about Jackson. The man is changing before my eyes, proving to me that he isn’t exactly the asshole that I thought he was. He is slowly revealing a new side of himself that I’ve never seen, and I fear that I’m falling for him. Everything about him is becoming attractive in its own way. His lips make me feel things that I have never felt before, when he looks at me with his piercing blue eyes and cocky grin it makes my body melt with desire, and when I hear his British accent, my head spins and I feel butterflies in my stomach.

I arrive at the restaurant and check to see if any members of my family have been seated yet. The hostess tells me that I’m the first to arrive, so I stand by the door, waiting for them.

The restaurant is packed as usual and I see a group of good-looking men eating at a table. One of the men makes eye contact with me, smiling flirtatiously. He turns to his friends and says something to them, and they all turn to look at me. I bite my lip, enjoying the attention after having taken a hit to my self-esteem from my recent experiences with Chat Love. This leads me to wonder again why I can’t seem to meet any good guys on the site. Skyler keeps reminding me that it takes time, but I feel as though I’m only meeting scummy people. Do I just have horrible taste, or is there something I’m missing whenever I look at these men’s profiles?

I hear someone say, “Happy birthday, Lucia Pia!” and I turn to see my mother walking toward me, her arms wide open. She embraces me and plants a kiss on each cheek.

I pull away, smiling. “Thank you, Mom. You look beautiful!” Ever since my sister announced her pregnancy, my mother has been glowing with happiness, and she’s looked absolutely radiant lately. I can’t help but be happy for her, because I know that she’s extremely excited to finally be a grandmother.

My sister enters next, wearing a cute little dress that accentuates her growing baby bump. We embrace and she makes sure to remind my parents of the fact that I’m single.

“Are you here all by yourself?” she asks, already aware of the answer. I simply roll my eyes, ignoring her jab.

My father and Tony walk in, each holding one of my grandmother’s arms. Grandmother Fabbo, my father’s mother, is a tiny little woman in her late seventies. Despite her small stature, she possesses a massive personality. She is the stereotypical Italian woman, with a feisty attitude, strong family values, and a deep love of cooking. After my grandfather died a few years ago, shehad decided to sell her home and move to a smaller condo in an elderly community in Long Island, only a few minutes away from my parents.

She slowly walks over to me and immediately grabs my arm, squeezing it with her wrinkled hand.

“Lucia, why you don’t eat? You are too skinny. No man wants a skinny wife. Skinny women can’t give men babies,” she explains in her thick Italian accent.

I can already tell that this is going to be an interesting night.

So far, dinner has gone surprisingly well, with no mention of my lonely existence. Instead, we’ve only talked about Gabriella and her growing baby, hearing her prattle on endlessly about how excited she is to be a mother. Finally, the bomb drops as we are waiting for our entrees. Leave it to my grandmother to bring it up.

“Lucia, why don’t you have boyfriend? You are a very pretty woman, but you are still single? You need to eat more and find a nice Italian man to marry you,” she decrees, practically announcing my fate as if it’s her decision to make.

I groan, “Grandma, my being single doesn’t have anything to do with looks. I’ve been dating plenty of men, but I just haven’t found the right one yet.”

Gabriella takes a bite out of a piece of bread. “And just how are you meeting all of these men, Lucia? You’re not using a dating site, are you?” she asks, a mischievous smirk on her face.

I reply sarcastically, “Of course not. I would never want to embarrass you, sister.”

Upping the ante, she puts her hand on her covered belly and rubs it gently. “You know, I just feel so fulfilled as a woman. I hope that you get to feel that before you get too old, Lucia.”

Frustrated, I say, “I’m only twenty-eight, for crying out loud!” The waiter approaches and I say to him, “I’m going to need another cosmo, as soon as possible.” I smile at my sister, trying to make her jealous of the fact that I can drink alcohol when she can’t.

She silently hands a piece of bread to Tony and he butters it for her. I have no idea how she has that man so whipped. She claps her hands to get everyone’s attention, obviously wanting to steal the spotlight as much as possible.

“Tony and I have an announcement,” she says. I roll my eyes, wondering what it could possibly be this time.

My mother grabs my father’s hand excitedly. “You’re having twins?” she asks.

My sister giggles. “No, Mama. That’s not it.”

I down the rest of my drink.

My grandmother says, “I know, you’re having a boy!”

My sister giggles again. “No, we don’t know what we are having yet. We wanted to tell you that we’ve picked out names already.” She looks around, taking a dramatic pause. I’m tempted to offer a sarcastic drumroll, but I choose to keep it to myself. “If it’s a boy, we are going to name him Giovanni, after Dad, and if it’s a girl we are going to name her Antonia, after Grandma,” she nods to both my father and grandmother, giving them each a sweet smile, then turns to cast me a smug glance.

Kill me now,
I think to myself. We haven’t even gotten our food yet, and my sister has already made my family cry tears of joy. While I sit, fuming about how my sister has taken over my birthday celebration, my parents and grandmother are busy hugging and kissing Tony and Gabby, offering their sincerest congratulations. The waiter quietly hands me my new cosmo.
Just in time,
I think, taking a large swig from the glass.

While we are waiting for our dessert, I excuse myself and step outside for some much-needed fresh air. As I lean against the wall of the building, I close my eyes and try to clear my head. I’m interrupted by the sound of my father’s voice calling my name. I open my eyes and see that he has followed me outside.

“Lucia, are you OK?” he asks, a concerned look on his face.

“Yes, Dad, I’m fine,” I answer. “I was just trying to cool down; it’s too stuffy in there.”

“Oh, OK,” he says, a smile returning to his face. My father is, as usual, oblivious. “Isn’t it wonderful that Gabriella and Tony have already chosen names?” My father asks me with a large grin.

I mumble, “Of course, it’s great. I’m glad she announced it tonight.” Under my breath, I add, “She would.”

He sighs happily. “I am just so proud of her.”

Finally fed up, I ask plainly, “And what about me? Are you proud of me?”

He looks at me and narrows his eyes. “Why do you always have to make things a competition between you and your sister? Why can’t you be happy for her?”

I argue, “Of course I am happy for her! But it always seems as though you’re proud of her, but not proud of me, all because I’m single and not pregnant.”

“Well, what should I tell people? That you are having sex with many men?” he argues back.

I groan, uncomfortable with his statement. “Dad, I’m not having sex with anyone. I’m not that kind of girl.” I run my hand through my hair. “Why can’t you just be proud of me for the things that I’ve accomplished? I graduated from college with a high GPA, and I’m successful in my career. I live a comfortable life, and I do it all by myself. Isn’t that something to be proud of?”

My father waves his hand in dismissal. “I don’t want to talk about this now. Your sister just told me something wonderful and made me happy, and I want it to stay that way. I do not want to get aggravated, it will upset my stomach.” He turns and folds his arm across his chest, grumpy.

After a minute of silence my father announces, “I wanted to tell you that someone contacted me about wanting to package my tomato sauce and wine to sell it in stores.”

My face lights up. “Dad, that’s great. Congratulations!”

“I don’t know,” he says with a serious expression. “The only reason I would do it is to earn some extra money to save for my grandchildren, but it looks as though it will be awhile before I have more than one.” He looks at me pointedly, making clear his meaning.

I return to being frustrated. “Dad, why can’t you just accept the fact that I want to find someone who will make me happy? I don’t want to settle, and I only want to get married once. I don’t want to rush into it just so I can get pregnant; I want to take my time and enjoy my marriage.”

Suddenly, I hear Gabby’s voice. “Well, isn’t that just great! I knew that’s how you really felt about the baby. You think that we’re just having a baby for the hell of it, don’t you? You know you’re just jealous!” She gives me a glare, her hands on her hips, and then storms back into the restaurant.

Great,
I think,
happy birthday to me.

After calming my sister down and convincing her that I am not jealous of her baby, we eat dessert and I open my gifts. My parents and grandmother both give me money, which I’m planning to use at another art auction in the near future. Gabriella and Tony give me a beautiful designer bag I’ve had my eye on, along with a shirt that read’s “World’s Best Aunt,” and a book about the joys of being an aunt—thrilling.

After I thank everybody, my father insists on paying the dinner bill while my grandmother follows through with her annual birthday ritual of spitting on my head and praying over me. She believes that it wards off any evil eyes that are watching me and preventing me from getting married. I believe that it just covers my head with spit, and I shower as soon as I return home.

The next day a package arrives at my apartment, and I tear through the paper to reveal the painting that Jackson bought for me. Autumn and I work together to hang it, and then join Danni at our local gym for a few hours of exercise. Afterward, Danni joins us on our walk back to the apartment, eager to see the painting Jackson had purchased.

“That man has it bad for you.” Danni says, eyeing the cherry blossom.

Autumn and I had decided to hang the painting in a small area above our modest dining room table. She loved the painting as much as I did, claiming that the color scheme brought a certain sense of comfort into the apartment.

“It was just a birthday gift,” I explain to Danni.

Danni shakes her head. “No man spends that sort of money on a woman that he doesn’t have feelings for, unless she’s a blood relative.”

Autumn chimes in, “What if the two of you start to date and then get married, and you can hang this painting in your house and tell the story to people you invite over? That’d be so romantic!”

I hold my hand up in the air. “Whoa, Autumn, relax. Firstly, nobody has said anything about marriage. Secondly, Jackson probably just bought the painting because he wanted to beat me, and then felt bad when he realized that it was my birthday.”

Danni rolls her eyes. “You are in denial. The guy practically attacked you at my party, remember?”

I interject, “He just wanted to sleep with me.”

“OK,” she continues. “But then he gets two tickets to the Kings of Leon concert and invites you to go—”

I interrupt, “He was only thanking me for doing a good job.”

“But the two of you kissed!” she says, trying her best to convince me.

“Yeah, but we only did that to make Kellan jealous,” I add.

“Still, you’ve been going on lunch dates …” she begins.

I finish her sentence, “With other people joining us.”

“But then he bought you a ridiculously expensive painting and took you out to lunch on your birthday. Come on, Lu, I know you’re not stupid. At my party, he only wanted to talk about you, and it’s obvious that the guy likes you. You’re just refusing to open up your pretty little eyes and admit it.” Danni raises her eyebrows, knowing that I can’t argue with what she’s just said.

I shrug my shoulders. “He’s just so complicated.”

Autumn jumps up and down and chirps, “Invite him to join you tonight!”

“Why on earth would I do something like that? He would probably laugh at me if I did,” I reply.

Danni rolls her eyes. “Don’t tell me you actually are stupid. Just call him up and tell him that the painting was delivered, and then invite him as a way of saying thank you.”

Autumn adds, “He could be your future husband, you know.”

I ask Autumn, “Weren’t you just recently trying to convince me to stay away from him?”

She shrugs her shoulders. “I’m giving him a chance. If I am, then you should too.”

I throw my hands in the air, exasperated. “Fine, I’ll invite him, but only to be nice. Are you both happy now?”