Page 29

YOU ONLY LIVE TWICE

SANTINO

E verything the guides had said about Mont Royal Park turned out to be true. It really was the prettiest spot they’d seen in the three days they’d been in Montreal.

When he and Vanessa arrived, they passed a group of men drumming at the entrance to the park on the stone staircase.

She heard their accents and murmured to him, “I think some of them are Jamaican.” Their knit hats woven with the colors of the Jamaican flag were a clue.

To the lively, spontaneous music, they climbed the staircase and found a path winding up the green hill to behold a vast lawn ringed by tall trees.

It was a beautiful day and festival time, so of course, there were plenty of people spread out on blankets or strolling. Exactly his kind of place.

He squeezed Vanessa’s hand, noting the pleasure on her face.

Even the dimple was making its appearance in her smooth cheek.

She always used to try and act like she couldn’t be bothered with people and especially strangers, but he’d discovered early on that “can’t be bothered” veneer was hiding a person who craved connection.

Miss I’d Rather Sit in the Corner with a Book was waiting to cut loose and have fun if the right person drew her out of herself at the right place and time.

He was that right person for her, and this was that right time and place.

Still, she was resisting being fully his, in bed and out.

Although it was technically only Monday, three days in, the clock was ticking.

Their permanent reunion needed to get locked down especially before Bobby and her sister-in-law showed up.

He wasn’t confident he could get Bobby back on his side, and Zoe was even worse.

The last thing he needed was that vibe killer cruising in and changing the dynamics when things with Vanessa were still fragile.

Setting aside the thought of Bobby and the Vibe Killer, Santino pointed at a nice spot on the grass.

“How about here?” he suggested.

Vanessa nodded. “Looks good.”

He had a blanket that he’d bought at a local home goods store, and helped her spread it out on their chosen spot.

Then he anchored it from the slight breeze by placing the picnic hamper on one corner, while she dropped her purse on the diagonal.

That large purse contained a book he’d “allowed” her to bring, so long as she promised to carry his sketchpad, which she did.

The book and the sketchpad took up another corner, and the last corner was held down by the sandals she slipped off to expose her pretty feet.

The urge to tickle her toes like he used to had to be resisted; he wasn’t sure she would be cool with that.

“Let’s eat,” Santino announced once they were comfortably settled. They made short work of the spicy smoked meat sandwiches on rye, chips and grapes they’d bought at a little deli. Everything was delicious.

“This sandwich is dope. Mine is suuuuper salty and garlicky and peppery. Yum.”

Although Vanessa was typically conscious of sodium in her own cooking, he knew she wasn’t complaining. “Aw, it’s the best. I think I could come back here and just eat all day even when there isn’t a festival,” he remarked.

Vanessa gathered their trash, and he dutifully took it to the waste bin nearby.

When he returned, he leaned back on his elbows with his legs stretched out to soak in the sun, also enjoying the way Vanessa ran her eyes over his body as if thinking about how much pleasure he’d been giving her before she put a halt to it.

“Me too,” she said with a grin, genteelly wiping a spot of mustard from the corner of her mouth.

Santino stared at that spot, imagining licking those lips himself.

That morning, finally getting a taste of her sweetness again, indulging in her moans and soft cries, had been more delicious than any meal he’d dined on so far.

He could hardly wait for the next time, which was definitely happening even though she was playing it off like it wasn’t.

But first, he had to find the path back to that version of her, the one that was open and free rather than watching him warily from the other side of the walls she’d built against him.

“We should do that. Maybe next year, instead of going to San Gennaro in September, we can come here for this festival. Or we could do both if you took the time off work,” he suggested, studying the scenery. His eyes swung back to check her reaction.

Rather than out and out dismiss the idea, she seemed thoughtful. “We’re still not a couple, Santino. But it’s interesting.”

“What’s interesting?” he asked, nudging her leg with his big toe.

She leaned away from the toe, feigning disgust, which made him chuckle. “Interesting that you’d consider doing something without them. Your family, I mean. None of you make any moves without the others fully on board.”

Santino plucked a vibrant green blade of grass and spun it between his fingertips. “That’s mostly true.”

“Well,” Vanessa continued, crossing her legs at the ankles. “What do you think their reaction would be if we were back together? I’m asking purely as a hypothetical, of course.”

“Same as before. The ones who loved you still love you. They’d be happy.

Gina – forget about it, she misses you like crazy.

Every now and then, Pop brings you up. Whacks me on the back of the head and asks when I’m going to make up for whatever he thinks I did to screw us up.

And Nonno? Every time I talk to him, he asks when you’re coming back to Italy to see him.

He’s got nobody else to talk books with like he does with you. ”

Vanessa’s eyes sparkled at that. Her own father had passed when she was so young. Patrick becoming more or less a new father figure had been good for her. And Nonno was the grandfather she barely remembered. His sister became her sister.

“That definitely sounds like Pop. I miss him, too. But what about the ones who never loved me?” She was obviously referring to his mother.

Santino was slow to answer. He waited while a young family speaking French rolled past with their big-wheeled stroller, the golden-haired light-eyed toddler peering back at him with a pacifier in his mouth. Occhi azzurri e capelli biondi . It was like looking at a live baby picture of himself.

“You know she did love you. It just took a minute. That’s how she is. You probably won’t believe it, but she wasn’t happy when we split. After Gina, she was probably the one most upset when you left.”

Vanessa sat up straighter as if surprised to hear that last part.

“Really? I thought she’d be turning fucking cartwheels that the evil crone finally left her precious baby alone.

” She clawed her hand through the air as if playing Snow White’s stepmother.

But although she grinned, he couldn’t quite share the amusement.

“It was a tough time for me. She didn’t like seeing me hurt.

” Santino didn’t want to think about just how tough of a time it had been, not when the day was this beautiful, and they were exploring this newfound peace.

He pushed the worst of the memories away and cuffed her jaw lightly with his hardened knuckles.

“What about your mom? I can imagine what Nadine would say to see me strollin’ through her front door. ”

Vanessa gave him that rueful smile with no teeth that indicated he was right. “Pretty much the same story. Like damn, our moms are two sides of the same coin. She went from saying you were too young for me to ‘he’s a good man, Vanessa.’”

They had watched the movie she was referencing together, and he laughed. “No shit. So, she’d be cool with us getting back together? Hypothetically.”

Vanessa made a face. “I mean, you could draw her as a character and call her ‘The Contrarian.’ Whatever I’m for, she’s against. The minute I walk something back, she’s signing on. I really can’t win with her.”

He nudged her leg again, and at first, she swatted his toe away, but then she lay her hand on his ankle.

The touch of those long, gentle fingers sent shocks of warmth all the way through his leg and the rest of his body.

Damn, he’d love for her to hold another of his body parts like that.

Would give anything for her simply to let him hold her close, no pulling or pushing him away, no running.

“Be honest. You agreed with her. About the age thing.” His eyes narrowing, he grinned at her slowly.

“I do remember saying ‘no’ to you asking me out the first few times you asked and I gave you the reason why. You were too young. I thought…” She trailed off mid-sentence.

“Thought what?” he pressed carefully.

Looking at her hands, she lifted a shoulder in a shrug, then dropped it. The sun slanted against her face and painted a stroke of gold on the sweet, dark brown of her skin. Her eyes were lighter in those rays, like the soft velvet eyes of a skittish doe.

“I thought I was just an experience you wanted to have. Like some old European tradition where the young nobleman gets schooled by an old courtesan in the art of making love so his virgin princess bride can stay pure till the wedding night.”

“ Marone , seven years. That’s all there is between us. Seven years!” he couldn’t help but exclaim softly. “And if a courtesan is a fancy word for ‘prostitute,’ I’m insulted for both of us.”

“Hey, no shaming sex work between fully consenting adults,” she said with a lofty chin raise.

“And I agree that seven years when the younger person is like thirty and up isn’t that big of a deal.

But when you’re twenty-two and that frontal lobe ain’t even closed yet, it’s a long way to twenty-nine, especially with our life experiences at that point. ”

“Aw, get outta here…” he scoffed, eyebrows drawn together. “I’d been working a steady, demanding job for four years. I had a car.”