Love, Laughter, and Happily Ever Afters Collection (12 page)

Mmm. This night had a lot of potential. She sipped her new drink, smiled again at everyone and winked at Ivan.

* * * * *

ROB AND TONY SAT in front of the TV, beers in hand, discussing in intimate detail the parts of the visiting-team pitcher’s anatomy that they’d like to eviscerate, since he caused the Brewers to lose again. Rob grinned through the goriness. He missed spending nights like this with his kid brother.

“I keep envisioning a baseball version of
Braveheart
,” Tony said, tossing his empty beer can into the trash. “But I guess TV can’t show everything.”

“Guess not.” Rob checked his watch. “Hey, it’s after nine. How long is your wife going to be out?”

Tony shrugged. “Late. She gets it into her head that she needs an outing with the girls once a month and, you know, with five kids at home, I don’t blame her.”

“You don’t mind doing everything by yourself for an evening, though? Putting all the kids to bed and all?” he asked.

Tony laughed. “Look, Maria-Louisa does it all by herself during the day. Every day. I’d give her the whole night off three times a week if she asked for it. Once a month is nothing.”

Rob thought of the five children sound asleep upstairs. Sammie, when Rob poked his head in on him an hour ago, was actually snoring. And one of the triplets—Michael—was talking to a PBS dragon in his sleep. It was kind of cute, he had to admit. In a Family Channel sort of way.

He got up to stretch his legs. “Hey, you feel like cookies or ice cream or something? I can run out and pick up a half-gallon or two for us.”

“I’d love some, but aren’t you sick of that sweet stuff after all the hours you spend scooping it up every day?” Tony stared at him with one of his deep, penetrating gazes. This question wasn’t intended to be literal.

“Yes and no, Tony,” he admitted. “You know how I like to talk to people, so that part of it has been fun. The shop itself is running fine, and Elizabeth is so organized that we have on hand anything we need days before we actually need it.”

“Ah, yes. Elizabeth.”

He groaned. “Oh, c’mon. Don’t start on me. I can’t tell Mama the truth yet. That’s the part that hasn’t been going so well. I mean, Elizabeth’s been awfully kind about helping me fake this relationship, but soon Mama’s going to have to know that it could never happen for real.”

“Because?” Tony prompted.

Man, let me count the ways
. “Because we’re not of the same type. She’s quiet and reserved and straight-laced. A class act. I’m loud and extraverted and a little on the wild side.”

Tony indicated his agreement of that last point.

“She’s a brain who writes. I’m a jock who does business. She wants to live out the rest of her life in Wilmington Bay. I want to get the hell back to Chicago at the end of the month, preferably sooner. She wants four kids, and I don’t want any if I can help it—”

“Whoa, big brother. Slow down.” Tony blinked his dark eyes at him. “You two talked about kids?”

“Just theoretically.”

“No, no,
no
. There’s no such thing with women.” His brother crossed his arms. “Who brought it up? You or her?”

Rob thought back over their coffee shop conversation a few weeks ago. “I did, I think.”

Tony nodded. “Bad move, bro. You’ve got her thinking and evaluating now. Plus, with all that playacting and your lovey-dovey hand massaging… Don’t fool yourself, Rob. This may be harder to break off than you think.”

“Hey, I was totally open with my intentions. I’ve never led her on with this in any way. She knows it’s a game. I don’t think she’ll be heartbroken when it ends.”

His brother laughed. “I don’t think she will be either. I wasn’t talking about her. I was talking about
you
.”

“What? That’s—that’s—”

“Not nearly as crazy as you may believe,” Tony finished for him, although that wouldn’t have been how he’d have chosen to end the sentence.

He and Frizzy Lizzy together? For
real?

He thought about her kindness to his family, her understated prettiness, her sweet nature and the way she was slowly relaxing around him. He remembered her soft, soft hands and the attraction he’d felt for her that night of the coffee outing—an emotion he’d worked hard to suppress because, well, because they just didn’t mesh. They were too different. Right?

A jolt of “So what?” smacked him in the gut.

So what if they had polar personalities?

So what if she could spin rings around him intellectually?

So what if he did want to kiss her on the lips, just once?

Not that he’d admit any of these things to Tony.

“I’m going to get that ice cream now,” he informed his brother. “Either suggest a flavor or I’ll have to pick one for you.”

Tony smirked. “Avoidance is the devil’s game. Play it at your own risk.”

Rob took several pointed strides in the direction of the door. “I’m leaving.”

His brother crossed his arms and leaned back against the sofa. “Okay, Peaches and Cream or Butter Pecan, then.”

“How very wholesome of you.”

“Not especially,” Tony said. “I just like what I like. But since you’re going out, could you do me a favor?”

“I’m not picking up
Happy Feet
for you or any other heartwarming kiddie DVDs, no.”

“Wasn’t what I was going to ask. Did you always jump to conclusions like this or is it a recent development?”

He sighed. “What do you want?”

“Maria-Louisa’s mom called earlier and their hair appointments got canceled for the morning. She’s either got her cell phone clicked off or it’s too hard to hear it at Hauser’s ‘cause I can’t reach her. Could you swing by there and give her the message? She’d appreciate being able to stay out later tonight knowing she’ll get to sleep in tomorrow.”

“Yeah, okay,” Rob said, pondering how frightening it was that Tony was so taken in by his petite wife that he’d urge her to stay out later on a Saturday night and sleep in longer on a Sunday morning.

And tomorrow was
Father’s
Day.

He squinted at his brother and shook his head. The guy was whipped.

He walked out of their House of Love and into Hauser’s a few minutes later still thinking about this. About having a totally loving, accepting relationship like Tony and Maria-Louisa’s. About what that would be like on a day-to-day basis.

He inhaled the pungent aroma of extinguished cigarettes by the door mingling with half-empty pints of beer. He felt the vibration of the classic Garth Brooks song, “Friends in Low Places,” from the tips of his ears to the tips of his toes. People snickered in one corner, laughed in another, argued in a third. But it was the group in the fourth corner that stopped him like a ten-foot stone wall.

They were chugging strawberry margaritas as though they expected Diane Sawyer to announce a world-shortage on the news tomorrow.

They were flirting with one of the waiters, hooting over his jokes and then dissolving into giggling aftershocks.

They were rising up en masse and dancing in place for fifteen straight seconds before collapsing into their chairs again, arms flung to the sides, glasses dangling precariously in delicate-looking hands. Someone dropped one and they all roared with laughter. The waiter called for another to be sent over.

They were people he knew, or so he’d thought.

Soft-spoken Maria-Louisa. Her cousin Angelica. Her best friend Sandy, who’d been maid of honor at the wedding when he’d been best man. Three of the young neighbor women, all with preschoolers, who’d brought over casseroles and cakes so very primly the week he’d arrived back in town. Nice, sensible people. Usually.

But it was the last lady there whose name caught in his throat. He struggled to say it aloud. He whispered it at first, but no way could she hear above this racket. He spoke it a second time, louder, but still no luck. Finally, he resorted to shouting.

“Elizabeth!”

Heads from all four corners of Hauser’s turned to stare at him. Conversations ground to a halt. Then they all turned back and continued their chattering. Except for the group of women he knew (or thought he knew). They pointed their polished fingernails at him. Shrieked. Hollered cheerful greetings he couldn’t quite catch. Motioned him over, waving their margarita pitcher in invitation.

His feet sent him staggering toward The Sirens.

“Rob!” Elizabeth said, beaming a cute but somewhat sloppy grin aimed in the vicinity of his left shoulder. “How are you? I’m really g-good.”

“She’s wonderful,” Angelica gushed, sploshing some of her pink drink on her cream-colored blouse. “And so am I. And we think you’re wonderful, too.”

“Well, um, thanks,” he said.

Maria-Louisa popped in with, “Wanna join us? We’ve got lots here.” She examined the almost-empty pitcher. “Well, more’s coming.” She grinned at him. “How’s my darling hubby? At home asleep yet?”

“No, not yet.” He relayed Tony’s message about her mom and the canceled appointments while studying with new eyes the absolutely, falling-over-drunk Elizabeth Daniels.

“Goody!” Maria-Louisa shouted. “I just hate getting my hair cut!”

This inspired a chorus of “Me, too”s from the women and an “I
especially
hate it” from Elizabeth.

Which led to a moment of hushed sympathy before a burst of:

“Oh, it must be really, really hard to find someone who can cut long, curly hair.”

“But it’s so beautiful. What do you do to tame the waves?”

“My sister in Minneapolis uses one of those special conditioners that reduce frizziness while still strengthening the roots and stopping split ends…”

He watched Elizabeth glance around the group and grin.

“Gotta try that stuff then,” she said before chugging the rest of her margarita.

“More all around!” Maria-Louisa proclaimed, batting her eyelashes in appreciation at the waiter’s arrival, a fresh pitcher on his tray.

“How are you all getting home?” Rob asked.

“Stevie’s picking us up in his minivan,” one of the neighbor ladies said of her husband. “He wanted that tank. He got it. Now he has to use it for something worthwhile.”

They all started laughing again for no good reason.

“Wait,” Sandy said. They paused.

“Another Garth Brooks song!” four of the ladies shouted at once. The whole group rose and began wiggling and jiggling. Elizabeth’s moves were even wilder and freer than the rest.

His supposedly reserved sister-in-law spun into him. “Dance with us, Roberto. Shake that booty.”

Additional hoots and hollers followed. He stood motionless.

Elizabeth grabbed his hand. “Oh, come
on
, Rob. We’ve all got the beat.” And she pulled him toward her, raised his arm above her head and twirled underneath it.

“I think that was the Go-Go’s, not Garth,” one of them said, swinging her hair in a full 360°.

“Who cares?” said another.

Elizabeth twirled again, lost her balance and lunged right for his chest. He caught her and pulled her close to steady her. She gave him a death squeeze and he automatically hugged her tighter. Then her grip relaxed and her soft body wilted in his arms. She buried her face in the Brewers jersey he’d snitched from Tony’s closet, snuggled up to him like a baby bunny and sighed.

“I’m really tired,” she whispered.

He smoothed her luscious hair with his fingertips. “I can drive you to your apartment,” he said, fighting the image of those beautiful reddish-brown curls fanned out on a white silk pillow.

“Hmm. Okay.” She rubbed her eyes and yawned. “It was going to be too late before Ivan got off his shift anyway.”

“What?”
Who the hell was Ivan?

She pointed vaguely in the direction of one of the waiters. “I’ll pick him up next time,” she said, turning to say her goodbyes to the group as he stared at her dumbfounded. She was going to pick up some other guy? Not a chance! He shot Ivan a death stare and the laughing waiter took a few worried strides back toward the bar.
That’s right, bucko. Stay away if you know what’s good for you.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth thanked the women for the fun time and forced his sister-in-law into taking some money for her share of the margaritas. Then she leaned into him again, slipped her little arm around his waist and stumbled a few steps forward.

“Off we go,” she said. She ran her free palm against his abs. “Mmmmm.”

“Mmm, what?” He took one final glance around the room and caught Tara Welles’s stunned gaze and dropped jaw a few feet from them. He looked away.

“You’ve got one hot body, Rob Gabinarri,” Elizabeth said. Loudly. The ladies’ group wolf-whistled. “Now, take me home.”

Holy Cannoli.

CHAPTER SEVEN

ELIZABETH FELT STRANGE. Lightheaded. Her feet rocked under her as if she were standing in a kayak. The world looked fuzzier around the edges, like an old-fashioned photograph, although the colors weren’t variants of gray. They were more a muted pastel, airbrushed with powdered sugar.

And, for the first time ever, it seemed, she couldn’t take time to focus on her stuttering, couldn’t take mental energy away from more pressing matters, like walking upright and in a straight line. Weird.

Oh, and Rob was with her. Holding her.

What a night. It seemed as if it should be unforgettable and, yet, she was already losing track of some of the details. Like how she’d ended up with Maria-Louisa’s group, or talking with that waiter Ivan, or at Hauser’s in the first place, and how much alcohol she’d consumed. And why Rob looked so very
tense
.

“Are you okay?” she asked him.

He laughed.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he said. “That’s just funny.”

She didn’t see why it should be so hilarious but, then again, who understood the minds of men?

When they got to her apartment complex, Rob walked her up the stairs, riffled through her purse to locate her keys (because she just couldn’t
find
them but she was
sure
they were in there) and swept her into the place and onto the sofa.