Chapter Twenty-Two
Love is like a shadow—no matter how hard you try to escape, it will chase you.
—Italian proverb
Jules’s heart thudded wildly as she knocked on the front door of DeLuca’s Ristorante. It was usually closed on Monday, but today was the very special occasion of Tony and Frankie’s anniversary dinner party, and she was going to help with the decorations. And try not to collapse in a heap around Tad.
The door crept open to reveal Lili, who dragged her inside with shifty looks left and right.
“Can’t be too careful.”
“Frankie knows already. You can’t keep anything from her.”
Lili smiled, and Jules’s heart gave a solid kick to her ribs at how that smile reminded her of Tad.
“So true. She always knew when I’d been sneaking out as a young ’un. Never missed a trick. But I’m pretty sure Dad’s still in the dark.”
Jules took another couple of steps inside and was immediately transported. DeLuca’s was a wonderfully appointed restaurant with a long cherrywood bar and a frescoed ceiling, but today it was like something out of an old world fairytale. Cara had spun her magic with indoor landscaping, working to bring a vineyard vibe indoors, and transformed it into a re-creation of the spot where Tony and Francesca had said their original vows in a joint union with Tad’s parents. Empty wine casks, similar to the ones at Vivi’s, framed the space while twinkling fairy lights sparkled overhead, shining off the sky-cloud ceiling. A couple of working casks had been set up at one end of the bar, with spigots at the ready to satisfy the influx of DeLuca relatives now waiting at their hotels for the signal to swarm.
It took a moment to realize that Lili was speaking. “So, are you okay? I know it’s been a rough few days. Sometimes I just want to shake that cousin of mine.”
“The queue forms right here.” Jules pinned on a smile, aiming to put her sister-in-law at ease. This was exactly what she had wanted to avoid, the domino effect that failing with Tad would have on the rest of the family. “I knew the risks going in and while it sucks to be me this minute, it won’t always.”
Her heart felt like a piece of pulverized meat, but eventually she would heal. If she had learned anything over the last two years, it was that resilience suited her.
Cara came bustling out and Jules took a moment’s satisfaction in the fact that she waddled. About time. Two days ago she was terrifying the bejesus out of her family with her hospital visit. Now she glared at one of her staff who was hanging a banner and generally making a hash of it. Just as she parted her lips to unleash, Shane emerged from the kitchen, pushing a humungous cake on a rolling cart.
“LT, shut that gorgeous mouth down now,” he said before Cara could get a word out. “You heard what the doctor said about blood pressure.”
Cara growled and rolled her eyes at Jules. “The only risk to my blood pressure is your fussing, Shane Doyle.”
Shane stroked her cheek. “Just indulge me. Give our kids a chance to grow some hair on their heads before we meet them.”
Cara visibly relaxed under his touch. Satisfied his words had made an impact, Shane turned to Jules.
“Hey, sis, Jack’s looking for you. He’s in the kitchen.”
As much fun as Jules had had running the show at Vivi’s during Derry’s medical emergency, she knew she didn’t want to work in a busy restaurant kitchen. As for what she wanted to do… well, things were a little topsy-turvy right now and she needed to refocus on her little boy. The last few weeks had been confusing for him and she hadn’t been shepherding him through the changes very well. One day, she would get back to that goal of carving out her place but for now Evan was her heart—that was all she needed.
Good on ya, the girls whispered in her ear. They had been gentle with her lately.
Of course, they knew what was coming. Tonight, she had to sit at a table with the man she loved and pretend everything was hunky dory.
Could they go back to what they’d had?
Probably not.
Had it been worth it?
Damn straight.
Her confidence in that statement took a nosedive as soon as she walked into the DeLuca kitchen.
She had expected Jack, and there he was, owning the space as he always did, but that’s not where her covetous eyes fell.
Tad.
Tad was here in DeLuca’s kitchen, wearing chef whites and testosterone, and making her world crash.
All. Over. Again.
Her brother spoke over his shoulder. “Hey, you’re late.”
“Your wife kept me gabbing,” she said mechanically, her gaze focused on the knife that seemed to be a natural extension of Tad’s hand. She coughed and, with great difficulty, turned to Jack. “What’s going on?”
“Tad’s in charge.”
“He is?” Tad was cooking the meal that would celebrate one marriage and would plunge him into painful memories of another. Stranger still, he was working with Jack and the knives were still being used for their original purposes.
He turned and just the sight of him sent a sharp zing humming through her. It was a painful pleasure to run her eyes over all that beauty.
“You ready?” Tad asked her.
“For what?”
“His big fat grovel,” Jack said, removing a pan from a burner.
“I don’t think so,” she said, unsure if she meant her reaction to whatever Tad was about to unload or the fact that her brother seemed intent on remaining as referee.
Tad tapped his knife in an insistent tattoo on the cutting board. “Jack, I need you to take your interfering, know-it-all, Limey ass out of this kitchen and give us some space.”
Unfazed by Tad’s bite, a relaxed smile came over her brother’s face. He looked at her squarely. “Is this what you want?”
“Making my own decisions, remember?”
He held up his hands. “All right, all right. Got it.” He kissed her cheek on the way out of the kitchen. “I’ll be outside.”
She swallowed into the silence, this wedge of awful, bruising space that stretched between them like a cavernous maw. She held onto it for a couple of moments while they assessed each other for… she didn’t know what.
“How’s Evan?” he asked.
“Fine. Sylvia’s bringing him by later.” She forced her lungs to cooperate. “Do you have something to say to me?”
He stared at her in a way that made her supremely uncomfortable. That stare coated every nerve and set up a high-frequency vibration through her body. Nervous as hell, she ran a finger over the nearest stainless steel counter. Still, he wouldn’t speak.
“How come you’re here? In the kitchen?”
“Today isn’t just about Tony and Frankie.”
It was also about Rafe and Vivi. She loved that he was facing it head on, but she pinned on her game face all the same.
“And it isn’t just about my parents. It’s about honoring who they were and making them proud and that means making a move forward. I don’t think they’d be all that proud of how I’ve lived my life since they died. I think they’d be pretty pissed off at me.”
Her heart turned over, revealing the soft, defenseless underside. “You were twisted up inside. It’s hard to get untwisted if it suits you better to be that way.”
He looked like he was mentally trying that on for size. A sly smile, directed more at himself than her, quirked his lips.
“Yeah, that’s about it. You know, a very wise person once told me that I deserved to be happy. I didn’t really know what that meant until a few weeks ago, when we went from friends to so much more. I thought I was too selfish to give myself to another person. To two people, you and Evan. This mistake I made came with its own accessories: a hair shirt, a bucket of mortar in my heart, a black cloud following me around. I let it take over and make decisions for me. I let it turn me into a selfish bastard. But no more.”
Riveted by his words, all Jules could do was stare at him.
“Remember that night you told me not to fall in love with you?”
Tears pricked the backs of her eyelids. “Yes.”
“Well, I didn’t.”
Her breath trapped in her lungs and she scrabbled for air. “Bully for you.”
“I didn’t fall in love with you then or the next day or the day after that.”
Crikey, why ever did Jack think this guy could sell anything? “You have my admiration for holding out.”
Those DeLuca electric blues trapped her in their beam. “Because I was already in love with you. I had been since the day I met you, maybe before I met you. Only with you, Jules, do I feel all these broken pieces of me fall into place.”
Unwavering in his gaze, he walked toward her. Slow and purposeful, with no hesitation. Not wanting to feel at a disadvantage, she held her ground and looked him straight in the eye. New Jules, stronger than ever. But all that girl power went to the dogs the closer he got.
He loved her.
Well, she knew that. But any woman who told you she didn’t need to hear her man say it out loud was a lousy, rotten liar.
Mere inches away, he burrowed in his pocket and took out a piece of paper. As he unfolded it, she realized what she was looking at. Shit on a shingle.
“Evan wrote that,” she bit out pre-emptively.
“Liar.”
She couldn’t help her smile. It had been a long shot.
“You left this for me the last time you were at my house.”
The words she had written came back to her in a jumbled haze. As soon as she saw how far gone he was that awful day, the silly note was forgotten.
He smoothed it out on the scuffed-up, stainless steel counter.
Jules + Evan miss Tad (ez too spel!!) + luv him vary much.
“My heart was breaking and you pulled this manipulative crap on me?” He turned the makeshift card over to reveal the rest of it.
I am not adove using my kid to get wot I want. Luv Jules.
Helpless to control her reaction, she let loose a laugh. It was pretty funny, misspellings and all, but she needed to be strong here. She needed to be sure.
“That was then,” she said shakily, as if a week could have possibly changed one iota of her love for him.
“True, but let’s go back a little further than that, shall we? How about the moment you marched into this restaurant and made your knocked-up announcement? Do you remember that, Jules? How it all started? Because I do. You stole the show and you’ve been stealing stuff ever since—my sleep, my peace of mind, my f*cking heart.” He grasped her hand and put it over his navel then moved it dangerously low and close to her favorite Tad part. Yes, even above the forearms. She tried to pull away, but he held her fast. Emotion welled in her throat, choking and freeing at once.
“Here.”
He drew her covered hand from the belt buckle higher over his abs.
“Here.”
He dragged it flush to his warm chest, now vibrating with the thumpety-thump of his heart through his double-breasted chef jacket. His next words were a strangled whisper.
“And here.”
Her throat burned. With her free hand, she swiped at the tears rolling down her cheeks.
“It’s the Holy Trinity of how I feel about you. I want you, need you, love you. There will never be anyone else for me, Juliet Kilroy. The day my parents died, I thought that was the end of me but it wasn’t. My heart went into stasis. Some kind of suspended animation waiting for you to jumpstart it to life. I’ve wondered why I couldn’t move on and the only possible conclusion is that it was waiting for you. This wonky heart of mine only works when you’re in the room. It only beats when you’re beside me. It only exists to love you.”
The tears kept coming and so did his words, relentless in their assault on her heart.
“A week ago, you made me an offer. You said you’d help carry me through the pain. You assured me your heart was strong enough to beat for two. You promised to bring me back into this life. It was the kindest, sweetest, best offer I’ve ever had and I screwed up when I turned you down. I can’t go another day without you. My heart needs what only you can give, so Jules, put me out of my misery and tell me I haven’t ruined the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Because it’s always been you.”
“Oh, Tad.” She threaded her hand from his heart to cup his strong jaw. Shockingly, that rock-solid model of manliness quivered under her touch. “I’ve been waiting for you to see me.”
“Jules, there’s never been a moment I didn’t see you. Never a moment I didn’t want you. You’re the—”
“Air I breathe?” she offered.
There it was. That outrageously sexy smile that killed mutiple brain cells every time. She might never recover from it.
She might never need to.
He went on. “You’re the—”
“Blood to my heart?”
His lips twitched. “The sentence I haven’t finished.”
“The thought I haven’t formed yet.”
He kissed her softly, licking the tears that painted her lips. “Your lines are terrible.”
“I know,” she whispered around a sobby hitch in her throat. “Blimey, I know. What if we screw up?”
“What if we don’t?” He touched his forehead to hers. “Jules, we crossed the line weeks ago, maybe months before that. We always knew it would be tough to go back.”
“So that’s your reasoning. It’s easier to move forward than to go back?”
His smile was grimly beautiful. “Forward is never easier. It’s terrifying. But I know that we already have an amazing foundation here. We’re friends, we’re family, we’re very hot, attractive people. If we don’t make a go of this, the terrorists win.”
“You’re barmy.”
“I’m in love.”
His warm, rich laugh reached inside her and unfurled every tight bud of pain and every fist of doubt. She couldn’t speak or smile or move a muscle of her face while she worked on not breaking down completely.
At her silence, his laughter died and gravity took root on his handsome face. “Is it the women I’ve been with? Because I haven’t… not since…”
Her neck felt all tingly, as if she were getting a premonition. “You haven’t what?”
Raw emotion worked the muscles around his mouth. “That night you went cuckoo and jumped me changed everything. I haven’t so much as copped a feel with another woman since.”
Not until he placed a fingertip under her chin and pushed it closed did she realize that her jaw must have fallen slack.
“Say something, Jules. Don’t fail me now.”
Thought shards refused to bond. Tad hadn’t touched another woman in the last year. A year. Every second she imagined him with someone else had just been more wasted energy. After a moment, she finally managed to put something together.
“Those three seconds of horror—it made you gay?”
He pursed his lips, his mouth working for a suitable response. Smartass or brat or something equally appropriate.
“It confirmed what I already knew. It made me yours.”
Yours. With quite possibly the worse kiss in the history of seduction, she had somehow won this man. And here she thought he was the one rescuing her. Truth was they were saving each other and there was no one else she could imagine sharing her life with.
Make hers a bad boy.
She looped her arms around his neck and kissed him like there was no tomorrow—or like all her tomorrows would be with him. A blast of consuming, possessive heat to let him know just how crazy she was about him. Crazy. How had she ever hated that perfect word? When they finally parted, he looked as stunned as she felt.
“Oh, crap, we’re really doing this, aren’t we?” she husked out.
Tad’s smile was as wicked as they come. “Yes, mia bella. We are.”
Swinging big. Going all in. Living balls-out.
“I’ve got something else for you.” He extracted another piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to her.
With shaky hands, she unfolded it. The logo for Green City Market topped the page followed by her name. The rest blurred through her tears.
“Is this what I think it is?”
He grinned. So, so sexy. “If you think it’s an approval to get your own stand at Green City Market, then yes, it is what you think it is. You’re going to sell all those amazing bruschettas and salsas and dips. We’ll also offer them for sale at Vivi’s and see about getting them into gourmet stores throughout the city. I have a few contacts in the food business, you know.”
Her mind flailed at how much faith this man had in her abilities. From the beginning, that had never wavered. The faith in them had taken longer, but it was worth the wait.
“About time,” Lili said, bounding in.
Following, Cara swiped at her eyes. Cara DeLuca Doyle was crying. Now Jules knew the apocalypse was truly upon them.
“Yeah, we were getting really tired of hooking you up with losers when the answer was staring you both right in the face,” Cara said.
“The smug marrieds always know best,” Tad said, shaking his head.
“Yes, we do,” Cara confirmed. “And we also know that it’s time to get this party underway or risk the wrath of DeLucas far and wide.”
“We should leave you to it,” Jules said, kissing her man. Her man. The words and the man tasted so right. Her chest felt full to exploding, like the gooey cheesey center of the perfect arancini. She didn’t want to leave, not when they had just found each other but she had to let him get on with it.
She pulled away but he held her close. Hmm, that was nice.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“I thought the chefs would like to get to work.”
“Yes, they would. Maybe you should show her what she’ll be wearing,” Tad said to some point over her shoulder, a devilish smile shading his lips.
She turned to find Jack and Shane standing behind her.
“We got you something.” Jack held up a chef’s jacket covered in plastic. Above the breast, her name was embroidered in tight black stitching. More tears leaked down her face. This was too, too much.
Jack put an arm around her shoulders and kissed her temple. “There’s no crying in cooking, baby girl.”
“Nicely done, Jules,” Shane said with a wink.
“I told him the jacket doesn’t make the chef, mia bella, but I know you Brits,” Tad said. “You’re all about the pomp and circumstance.” His gorgeous mouth curled up at the corner. “You ready to cook with us?”
Oh, yes.
* * *
By the time one a.m. rolled around, relatives and friends had been sent packing and only core revelers remained at DeLuca’s Ristorante. The food—all recipes from Vivi’s repertoire—had been a rousing success and now Tad was moonlighting in his other, but no less important job: holding a sleeping Evan in his arms. Every muscle was stiff as a board but he wouldn’t swap that numbness for anything.
His eyes locked with Jules’s again. All night they had been staring at each other in wide-eyed wonder, not only because they had finally found each other but also because they could now gawk without restraint. No more hiding; love in the open.
“Okay, more toasts,” Cara said, raising her wine glass filled with water. “They say it’s bad luck to toast with a water glass, but the DeLucas have always made their own luck. To Tony and Frankie, on thirty-five years. Salute.”
All clinked their wine glasses for that, except Lili and Jack who had lifted water glasses like Cara.
A fact that didn’t go unnoticed by Jules. She shared a knowing glance with Tad then looked back at her brother.
“Wait a second…” Everyone stared at Jack, who actually managed to look more smug than usual. Yes, it was possible.
“Why aren’t you drinking? In fact, you haven’t been drinking all night,” Jules accused Jack.
Tad knew Lili had cut out alcohol while she tried to get pregnant, but for both of them to be sticking to l’acqua meant something very significant.
“Are you guys pregnant?” Cara blurted.
Jack and Lili shared one of their well-known hot looks mixed with something else. Lili’s shrug did nothing to mitigate her beam. “It’s sort of early to be announcing that kind of thing but…”
“Yes,” Jack whispered, his voice laden with emotion. “I figured if Lili has to suffer without wine for the next eight months, I can do it with her.”
Lili rolled her eyes. “As sweet as that is, I’d rather you drank so I can live off the second-hand residuals every time you kiss me.”
Everyone swarmed on yet another happy couple.
“How far gone—”
“Give her some space—”
“I think Jack’s going to faint—”
Francesca and Tony looked like they might explode with joy. Well, his uncle had both eyebrows raised, which was his version of happiness till the end of time.
Jules hugged her brother. “So you took my advice. Lit some candles, threw Barry White on the decks, dug out the sex toys from the back of the closet…”
“Watch it, you cheeky mare.”
“You’re a brave man to go without alcohol for the entire pregnancy,” Shane muttered around his wide grin. “I couldn’t do it.”
“Hey,” Cara said, nudging him gently in the ribs. “You’ve been well-compensated during this particular pregnancy, Riverdance.”
“Congratulations, Jack,” Tad said, shaking his cousin-in-law’s hand.
Jack nodded his thanks and another brick in that bridge they had been building fell into place. It would probably take a while to prove himself to Jules’s big brother but he had all the time in the world.
After giving everyone a few moments to soak up the great news, Tad cleared his throat and stood, feeling taller than he had in some time. “So I’d like to say a few words.”
Everyone groaned affectionately. A balled-up napkin was thrust from Shane’s direction and landed on Tad’s bread plate.
“I’ll be short, I promise.” He took a deep breath and glanced at his sister, who gave a short nod of encouragement. “Tonight, we celebrate Tony and Frankie but also Rafe and Vivi. A week ago was the anniversary of our parents’ death. Ten years gone and ten years of wondering what might have been. I’ll never stop missing them, but I know that wherever they are, they’re probably proud of us and—”
“Wondering when you’re going to give them grandbabies of their own,” Sylvia finished to a chorus of laughter.
His gaze found his best friend, who looked as stunning as he’d ever seen her. Hair in a messy bunch-up, face happily shiny from her exertion in the kitchen, her new chef’s jacket streaked with pesto. His at last and absolutely perfect.
“Think I should get my feet wet with this one first,” he said with a brush of his lips across Demon’s head. “Right now, I’d like to toast us all with a special wine I set aside a while back.”
With Evan still curled into his shoulder, he reached to the sideboard behind him and grabbed the 2000 Chateau Pavie Bordeaux, given to him by his father all those years ago. The twinkling lights in the indoor trees caught the now dustless bottle just right, making it shine like a beacon.
Like a blessing.
“So, you may have heard that I’ve made the Top Ten Mixologists in Chicago list for two years running—”
“Show off,” said Lili.
He grinned. “I have a thriving wine bar, an unreliable pizza oven, and the privilege of a terrible review from Tasty Chicago—”
“Effen critics,” Shane piped up in solidarity.
“Thanks, man. And I’m a second-level sommelier, but for the life of me, I have never figured out how to open a bottle of wine with one hand.” Putting down the precious cargo napping peacefully in his arms was not an option. “Mia bella, do you mind?”
Jules was already at his side with a corkscrew. “You better put those hot hands to work later, babe,” she murmured so only he could hear.
That would not be a problem.
Within five seconds, his nimble-fingered protégé had that bottle uncorked and ready for pouring. Glasses magically appeared and he filled them with a toasting portion for everyone.
He raised a glass to his family.
“Salute e cent’anni.” Good health for a hundred years. He added a silent cheer to his parents and filled in the hoped-for benediction from above.
Happy graduation, son.
Leaning in, Jules kissed him tenderly above their beautiful boy’s blond head, and he greedily took advantage and deepened the connection. All the chatter fell away until it was just Jules’s green-gold gaze and soft lips holding him enthralled. Two years ago, this woman had walked into this restaurant and seized him by the throat, heart, and other parts of his anatomy that should be handled with care.
The twitch of her lips and light in her eyes asked the age-old question, You okay?
The same question they had asked each other a million times at a million family gatherings since she had found her home with the DeLucas.
Their people.
His woman.
He could feel a smile conquering his face, one that put every other smile to shame. No one had ever been this happy. With a sleeping demon in one arm and the girl of his dreams on the other, okay didn’t cut it. More like perfect.
They were his at last, and he was never letting go.
About the Author
Kate Meader writes contemporary romance that serves up delicious food, sexy heroes, and heroines with a dash of sass. Originally from Ireland, she now makes her home in Chicago, a city made for food, romance, and laughter—and where she met her own sexy hero. When not writing about men who cook and the women who drool over them, she works in an academic library.
Visit her website at katemeader.com and follow her on Twitter@kittymeader.