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“I told your grandfather that we need to delay the wedding just until we settle things here with my grandfather’s estate. A month or so. It’ll give us all a chance to settle the funeral and reschedule in Italy. But I still want you to come back with me. I’ll fix this as soon as possible. Just a couple of days.”
Lies. All lies.
“Although, Rocco, you did fix this, and you did do it as soon as possible.”
And now it was time to guard my heart yet again and move on as well.
It was almost two p.m. when I left the bed and changed into a dark blue, Georgette two-layered dress that draped over the shoulders and below the knee—something Mrs. Belfiore had chosen when I was in college, along with hose and modest heels. Before that, I placed a cold compress on my face until the red areas disappeared, then added moisturizer to my lips and a low ponytail. I stared at myself and thought I looked like a younger version of my grandmother, just as Cassidy had pointed out. When I returned downstairs and found her in the living room, she smiled, wearing a similar maroon dress.
“Good, Adelina. I’m happy you’ve taken the mature road on this change.”
The magnitude of all Rocco meant to me wasn’t so dismissive as being mature. It was pouring concrete over a gaping wound. Rocco wasn’t interchangeable, he was original. He gave his whole being to me so freely. I wanted to scream, smash everything in the room, express the rage and deep well of loneliness inside of me. I had to become steel because anything else would break me. So, I became inanimate next to her.
She cleared her throat. “I, myself, had a similar time. It gets easier. Reginald and I love each other and have been there as good friends. You can have that too, you know. True friendship.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Belfiore,” I muttered.
“You can…you can call me grandmother,” she said, patting my hand.
My eyes widened in shock, and my heart lifted in surprise.Why now?Perhaps because she believed this match would not only happen but last. She was bringing me in as a real Belfiore, something I had always wanted.
I didn’t get a chance to think or talk about it. The sound of the front door and two male voices laughing filtered to us and grew louder as they approached the room.
Percy walked into the living room and right over to us. He handed me a bouquet of pink carnations and white lilies to Mrs. Belfiore. “I apologize for our delay. The women in my family would pitch a hissy fit if I showed up for dinner empty-handed.” His amused tone was melodic, with a hint of a southern twang. I liked the sound, though I kept my expression blank. They were only a minute later than expected. However, I learned something about Percy. He had an expectation about time and courtesy. Carnations were the most ordinary flowers, but I lifted my head with a smile and inhaled the bouquet. “Thank you, Mr. Sterling.”
“Yes, thank you, Percy,” Mrs. Belfiore echoed. She signaled for Patricia to take them away with a quiet instruction to add the lilies to the vase in the dining room.
Percy’s brown eyes were concentrated as he scrutinized, scanning me from head to toe, and seemed to be waiting for something. And it finally dawned on me that he wanted to shake my hand.
I held it out, and he clasped it firmly. “Apologies, Mr. Sterling.”
“Let’s all relax here. Call me Percy. We’re just friends having lunch. Isn’t that right, Reg?” His index finger brushed the back before letting go, and I fought hard not to meet his eyes or stiffen. He’d done it on purpose, I was sure of it. To see if I reacted to his touch or if I’d want him to touch me more.No thanks.
“That’s right,” Mr. Belfiore said, letting out a dry laugh and coming over to stand before Mrs. Belfiore.
“Reg says you love lilies, so we had to bring your favorite flower,” Percy told her. His tone was gentle and brought a curl to Grandmother’s lips.
Percy’s eyes shifted between Mrs. Belfiore and me and let out a whistle. “Such beautiful ladies in our company. We must’ve done something right.”
“Yes, indeed we have,” Mr. Belfiore added.
Was he serious? I glanced at Percy again. If I hadn’t known his nauseating persona online, I’d have thought him handsome, with his soft brown eyes and sharp jawline. Or I’d have been more curious about him choosing a salmon-colored suit to meet me today instead of the usual black and greys most men wore these days. It reminded me of the more daring clothing choices made by sports athletes that were also bespoke and well-tailored.
Grandmother touched my hand, and I realized I hadn’t responded to his compliment.
“Thank you, Mr. Sterling. You’re too kind,” I said, in a light tone.
“I’m just stating a fact, and it’s Percy,” he said evenly.
“Percy,” I repeated, and put on a smile.
Percy grinned at me. “There’s that smile we see in all the pictures online.” Had I detected a hint of sarcasm in his tone? “So, let’s call each other Percy and Adelina.” He spoke as if he was training a child.
My eyes narrowed on him.
“You can call me anything if you keep playing golf like that,” Mr. Belfiore broke in and chuckled. He sent a cool warning stare to me before returning to the happy mask he had on today. “Guess who finally put Ellis in his place, Constance?”
“Did you, Reginald?” she asked in shocked excitement.