Hello LAlaland (Lost in LAlaland) (9 page)

Two hours and a new pair of Louboutins later, Marci and I sat at a rounded booth at
La Mia Farfalla
, each sipping a glass of Pinot Noir and nibbling on salad greens. Well, she was nibbling, I was sitting with my knees tucked underneath me on the booth, nervously tapping on the red soles of my new heels. Outside, an early autumn rainstorm was pouring, but inside the restaurant was warm and beautiful. It was modeled after the Studio City Italian-style villa where Tony and I had last been together. I blushed as I thought of the intimate knowledge I had of the original—the door, the table, and the stairs. The walls of the restaurant were white, warm and homey, and candles lit the room, casting an enchanting glow. Frank Sinatra music played softly throughout the room.

“We don’t even know if he’ll be here tonight, Marci,” I reminded her with an anxious huff.

She shrugged and a smile played on her lips. “I may have called ahead to check on that. Now, no more questioning. You know you want this, Winn.”

Whatever reservations I’d had before were slipping away into the shadows of my mind. I couldn’t recall a single reason I’d had for avoiding him all these months or for pretending I wasn’t completely and totally in love with him. The more I thought of him, the more I recalled the hidden smiles and hints he’d given me throughout the years. I’d been so blind, and he’d been a mother-fucking idiot for not being a man and telling me.

“Ladies,” the server announced. “I have an order of our gourmet
antipasto
for your table.” He placed a large plate onto the table. It was overflowing with smoked chicken, salmon, and cheeses.

“I’m sorry,” Marci told him, pointing at the plate. “We didn’t order this.”

Holding up his hands to quell her concerns, he informed us of its source. “It’s compliments of the house.” My eyes snapped up, and I searched with frantic need around the restaurant for a sign of Tony.
“Buon appetito!”

He was definitely somewhere around the restaurant. I could feel his eyes on me. I looked to my left, searching the kitchen area for him, and then glanced to the right. There he stood, leaning against a pillar near the bar, swirling a glass of amber liquid in his hand and regarding me closely. Our eyes locked and held for what seemed like a millennia. Several emotions passed over his face—relief, lust, hurt, anger—before he hid them all behind a mask. Pressing away from the pillar, Tony strode to our table.

“Hello, ladies,” he said, nodding first at Marci and then locking eyes with me once again. “What a pleasure to have you dine with us tonight.” My breath caught at the formality of his words. “I hope you’ll enjoy the antipasto. I’ve been told it’s the best in the city.”

“Your mother is biased, Anthony,” Marci teased, humor filling her voice to lighten the situation.

His tight pretense threatened to fall as his lips lifted slightly. “Yes, well, an Italian Mama always knows best, doesn’t she? Besides, it’s her recipe, so I can’t—”

“Tony,” I cut in, exhausted with the charade we’d been a part of for months. “I . . .” My words trailed off, and I was unsure of what exactly to say. “May I talk to you for a few minutes?” I finally asked.

I watched his jaw clench again as he ground his back teeth together. Pain flashed through his eyes, and I inhaled sharply knowing that I had caused it. Though he contemplated for several moments, he finally shook his head. “I’m sorry. I wish I had time to catch up with an old friend tonight . . .” I recoiled as though I had been slapped. Friends? This was all my doing. I cursed myself for my stupidity. “Unfortunately, Friday nights are one of our busiest, so I won’t have any time to spare. Forgive me, ladies, but I should be getting back to work.”

I sat in stunned horror at the brusque dismissal. Tears brimmed my eyes, threatening to spill over the floodgates. I threw my napkin on the table and slid out of the booth. I couldn’t do this. I had to get out.

I ran from the restaurant and out onto the rainy sidewalk. It took only seconds for my dress to be soaked through and for my hair to stick in tangled, drenched locks to my skin. My salty tears mixed and faded in with the rain as it dripped down my face.

 
For several blocks, I ran as fast as my alligator pumps would carry me, until strong hands gripped me, spinning me around and pressing me against a brick wall. I screamed out in distress, assuming I was about to be mugged or worse, but Tony’s hand covered my mouth. His face was dark and stormy, rivaling the sky in its thundering ferocity.

“Why do you think you can do this to me again, Wini?” he yelled, pulling his hand away and pushing it into his hair. Yelling was good. Yelling meant passion. Passion meant love. Then again, passion could also mean hatred, but judging by the look in his eyes—the lust and anger brewing in a vicious toxin—I knew it was not hatred that was possessing him.

Tony’s white, cotton shirt hugged his tanned, muscular body as the rain soaked through, and the water flattened his carefully styled hair. I tried to reach up to brush a strand of his drenched locks away from his forehead, but he growled, catching my hand and pinning it back to the wall with scraping force.

“Don’t.” His words were venomous and wounded. The blood drained away from my face and my heart stammered out a choked rhythm as I wondered if I’d mistaken his passion and it was indeed hatred. But then, Tony’s face softened, and I looked down at the rain dripping down his neck. “Just . . . don’t you dare touch me. Not unless you’re planning on staying and making this work. I can’t do it again if you won’t let me in. I love you too much to watch you be miserable in your life without even knowing it. I could give you something your money and your career never could, but you won’t let me.”

My eyes snapped up to his. He was injured—damaged—and I’d hurt him in unforgivable ways, but he wanted to extend another chance to me. Realization of the love he truly felt began to register in my mind. The profoundness of the moment echoed inside
 
me.

“I-I’m a mess right now,” I cried through my tears. “I’m completely undone, and it’s because I know that I’ve destroyed everything. I’ve been trying to erase you and take back everything we could’ve been or had, but . . .”

A strangled, painful rasp echoed in the cold air between us. “Wini, please . . .”

I pulled my arms out of his, knuckles scraped from the wall, and launched myself at him. Tony remained still against my lips, his arms suspended at his sides as the shock of my attack registered. When he relaxed against me and allowed himself to accept my affection, the heat between us was electric, tearing through the wet air around us. The rain mixed with our kisses as our lips moved against each other’s. His fingers pushed into my tangled hair and gripped the strands with harsh tugs. When I gasped in protest at the painful sensation, Tony slipped his tongue deeper into my mouth.

Tony gripped my thigh, pulling it up over his hip to give him perfect access to my center, and pushed us back against the bricks. The harsh surface dug at my skin and snagged my dress, but I didn’t care—I could make a dozen more. Having him after months of denying myself almost caused me to come right there on the street corner as I ground myself against his leg.

A blinding flash of lightning shocked my system. My eyes flew open, and I ripped my mouth away from his as a scream tore from my throat.
 
The storm was right over our heads in every sense, billowing through the buildings surrounding us and swirling inside of us. Tony grabbed my hand and pulled me along with him, ushering me back toward the restaurant. I followed him through the puddles, where the pavement dipped and rose and water ruined my perfect shoes, to a door behind the restaurant that led upstairs and opened into a beautiful loft.

When Tony pressed into me on his plush bed minutes later, I came apart beneath him. His name rang from my lungs as I screamed out in ecstasy. He pumped into me with determination, resolving to make me feel his love like nothing I had ever felt before or would ever feel again. I felt it when his climax poured into me as he came.

Hours later, I lay across his chest as we watched the storm surrender to the sunrise over the New York skyscrapers. Surrender like I had, and like Tony had to me. It would not be the end, but the beginning of us. I placed a soft kiss on his salty skin and murmured, “I love you, Anthony.” The light that shone in his bright blue eyes was more powerful than the rays of sunlight conquering the sky outside the window, and he gifted the words back to me. Everything else was forgotten when he pulled me on top of him and slipped inside me again.

I’d been undone by him—wrecked—and every moment of it was utter perfection.

Chapter 8

Eight months later

The entire room was a flutter of activity. I, however, reclined back on the settee, noshing on a cannoli with a content smile. Wrapped beautifully with a white peony on top, it had been specially delivered by Mikey, one of the delivery boys from
La Mia Farfalla
. My groom knew me well, and the gift had been reminiscent of when I’d first left him and ran away to New York. How times had changed.

After a wonderful night of making up, Tony and I had spent the next few months falling in love all over again while hashing out all the fears and hesitations I had of what it would mean to be together. He reassured me what was mine was my own, and whatever we would build together in the future would be ours. When he asked about how involved I wanted him to be in Walter’s life, I reminded Tony that my little boy already had a wonderful father. We agreed that Tony would be a good male role model for Walt, showing him how to properly love and treat a woman, and Walt took to him right away when Tony took him to see the newest superhero movie. I was content in the fact that I hadn’t made a new family for myself, I simply expanded on the one I’d already built.

“Winn,” Ashley called to me from the bathroom, interrupting my musing. “The wedding planner says it’s time for you to get the dress on.”

Rolling my eyes, I made no rush to put down my dessert. Tony had waited this long for me, and surely he could wait a few minutes more. When the cannoli was gone, I licked my fingers clean of the powdered sugar and smeared a little between my breasts so Tony could have a snack later. I took a sip of the
Monte Rossa Cabochon Brut
, which Mama and Papa Ricci had gifted me from a recent trip to Italy, and picked up the note Tony had placed inside the cannoli box, knowing that I wouldn’t be disregarding this one like I had the last.

My dearest Wini,

A love begins much as a star is born—a violent shift in everything surrounding the moment—and that’s how it was when I met you. You’ve made me fall and tremble and break for your love, and I am a willing sacrifice. Now, you’re mine. Forever. And ever. And ever. And ever. And ever.

Yours,

Anthony

With resolution and joy, I finally stood. My ivory garter belt was flawlessly in place, and I knew Tony was going to love my new bustier. Ash blonde curls hung over my left shoulder while the other side was pinned up by a beautiful butterfly comb. Marci carried my lace and ivory silk dress toward me. I designed it myself. The satin hugged my body in perfection, and the imported French lace overlay fastened with big pearl buttons down to my tailbone.

Slipping into the dress, I waited patiently as Marci buttoned it while Ashley retouched my makeup. I’d chosen a soft palette for my wedding: beiges, golds, and mild pinks, but kept my signature retro, red lips. It served to exquisitely accentuate my fair skin, which had lost all its sun-kissed glow from the two weeks I’d spent lounging on the beach of Tropea, Italy with Tony.

While we’d been sipping Merlot and eating pizza at the lovely little
Vecchio Granaio Ristorante
, I’d been going on and on about the beauty of the town that Tony’s family was from. I didn’t even registered when he slipped out of his seat, until the gigantic emerald ring was blinding me from its position on the table before me. The box was Tiffany’s blue, and I wondered if it was from that long ago day he’d followed me to Beverly Hills. When my wide eyes sought out Tony’s, only then did I realize he was on his knees beside me. His position was one of humility, which was exactly what he promised me as he asked me to be his bride.

“Winifred,” he began as tears filled my eyes. “I’ve loved you for a long, long time. It hasn’t always been the easiest thing to handle, but I’d like to take the first step in showing that I’m on my knees, humbling myself for you. I can’t promise that it will always be perfect, but I know that we have a passion that is unlike any other I’ve ever experienced. They write books about this kind of love. And, if you give me a chance, I’d like to continue loving you for a lot, lot longer. Marry me, Wini.”

It had been stated as less of a question and more of a demand, so typical of my man. Still, I’d managed to swallow the sob building up in my throat and nod with great enthusiasm before throwing myself onto him, tackling him onto the floor right there in the pizzeria. The scene might not have gone over well in the States, but thankfully, Europeans appreciated romance and cheered for us from their tables as we smiled and kissed and laughed.

“All set, Winn,” Ashley told me, drawing me out of my thoughts once again. Glancing up from beneath the netting pinned into my hair with little silk flowers, I grinned at the lovely woman staring back at me.

“Finally,” I breathed through a matte, crimson grin.

A year to the day after our reconnection, we opted for an intimate wedding, allowing just family and friends to be in attendance—and no media whatsoever. At The Upper Crust’s New York Loft, we exchanged vows among candlelight and violin music. Though it was my second trip down the aisle, I wanted the ceremony to be as memorable as possible. This would be the one I knew I’d jumped into with both feet—the marriage I was ready for.