From Rome With Love by Kate Lloyd

Author:Kate Lloyd [Lloyd, Kate]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kate Lloyd
Published: 2020-09-22T23:49:44+00:00

CHAPTER 22

When Tom turned the knob and tugged the front door open, I recognized Mario’s voice. Warm and smooth as caramel.

“Mario!” Tabatha sprang to her feet like a cat. “I knew you’d come.” She raced over to hug him.

“My Uber driver couldn’t make it up that last hill, so I walked.” Carrying a large paper bag, he draped an arm around her. “Good to see you, bella ragazza.” He glanced to me and Brad. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Yes,” Brad said. “Are you blind? Get out of here.”

“Wait just a minute,” Tom said. “This isn’t your home.”

Snowflakes melted on the tips of Mario’s hair, making it curl in the nicest way. “Maybe I should leave,” he said.

“No,” Tabatha screeched.

Mama looked to me. “What say you?” she asked.

“I want him to stay,” Tabatha said. “Please don’t go, Mario.”

Brad stood tall and puffed out his chest. “Doesn’t her fiancé have any say?”

“We’re not engaged yet,” I said.

“That’s good news,” Mario said.

I wished he’d come over to me and give me a Gone-with-the-Wind embrace, the way Rhett Butler had swept Scarlett off her feet. But he stood staring at me, his lips parted as if he had something important to say. But he remained mute.

“I’m Lucy’s mother, Gladys.” Mama took Mario’s bomber-style jacket and gave it a shake out the front porch. Through the open door, I saw snow plummeting from the sky. A whiteout. No one was going anywhere tonight.

“A pleasure to meet you, Gladys,” Mario said, coming alive.

I wanted to speak to Mario in private but knew I couldn’t with this room full of people. Maybe I could sit next to him at dinner, but Brad would no doubt claim that seat.

The aroma of Mama’s pot roast floated from the kitchen. “I’ve got to check the food,” my mother said.

“I’ll help you.” Anything to give me time to think. If the two men got in an argument, I hoped Tom would play the peacemaker. He seemed calm and easygoing.

Minutes later, in the kitchen, Mama chuckled. “Looks as though you have two suitors. Why didn’t you tell me?” She drained the boiled potatoes.

“I didn’t know. Mario may view me as a friend. He’s never said anything about a relationship.” I mashed the potatoes, adding a stick of butter, milk, and a dollop of sour cream.

“I saw the way he looked at you.” Mama sprinkled salt on my potatoes, then a dash of pepper.

“I don’t really know much about him.” And he didn’t know the real me. I might never be free from my addictions. Not completely. I needed to start attending meetings again and chat with my sponsor.

“How do you feel about him?” she asked.

I recalled how gently he’d treated me when I hurt my wrist and how kind he’d been to Tabatha. Not to mention taking us to the opera and chauffeuring us around Rome.

“What if he wants me to move to Italy with him?” I asked, recalling the aromas of cooking pizza and the sounds of the traffic and the splashing water in the Trevi Fountain.

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