Roman Holiday Page 29

  “Here.” Jo gave her another tissue. “Wipe the mascara off your face and throw some cold water on. No, you’re absolutely not daft. Nothing you’re feeling about this whole situation is daft. Every feeling is allowed and should be respected. Of course you miss the boy you loved once, and of course you miss the man that could have been a great dad to Toby. But reality is, in many ways not that much changed.

  “You remain an amazing single mum surrounded by your family who’ll continue to support you. That hasn’t changed and nor will it. Now, carry that tray into the others for me, your dad’s gasping for a cup of tea.”

  Chapter 21

  Toby was excited. He absolutely loved flying and this long-haul to New York was pure bliss. He’d room to move and watch any show he wanted. He had his books and his iPad – best Christmas present ever, thank you, di Luca grandparents – he had blankets and cushions and all the food he could possibly eat. It wasn’t all awful, the airline fare, but he’d love to tweak some bits, that was for sure.

  They’d been upgraded to business class when they arrived at the airport that morning and the extra space was much appreciated. Right now they were over the Atlantic, so not much to see out of the window, and while it was cool watching the progress of the plane on the screen above, he was bored with that now. He was going to meet and stay with new relatives, more family.

  Nick’s family. His family.

  Toby wasn’t 100 per cent sure how he felt about that, but he was getting to go to New York and would, he understood, be able to chill out in the Sullivans’ restaurant. Hanging around food and how it was made? Always a bonus. He turned his head to look at his mum. She lay back in her seat, the angle at a level for sleeping, but he knew she was awake. Her eyes were closed, but she was twisting her fingers around and around every few seconds and she was nibbling on her lip. A sure tell she wasn’t relaxed.

  The wedding of Dev and Frankie had been full on and brilliant fun. He’d noticed how she and Nick had danced, and it was almost like watching the bride and groom. Toby squirmed a bit thinking about his mum kissing Nick. He hadn’t seen them do it but he wasn’t a baby.

  He knew.

  What did that do to them? To him and his mum? Was Nick her boyfriend now? It was confusing and he wasn’t sure he wanted to think about what all that meant. Nick was okay. Now that Toby knew him a bit better, now that he trusted him, he realised that Nick was to Mia kinda like Dev or Flynn was to him – he was sort of an uncle and he really liked her.

  Toby always stood up for Mia when her grandmother was her nasty self. He made Mia laugh but he took her seriously, too. As the head of the house, as Toby had been told over and over, Nick was the one to make the hard decisions that involved Mia and her schooling. She wanted to go to a school that studied science and botany, but her mother and grandmother wanted her to go to the local Catholic girls’ school, where it was mostly arty stuff like literature and music. Just before they’d left Rome, Toby had heard Nick promise Mia he’d talk the adults around.

  So far, Nick had kept his promises.

  He’d promised to mind his mum when she was sick. “I’ve got this,” he’d said and he had. That meant a lot. Now, all that had to be fixed was this thing with his mum. This . . . space that seemed to be between them. He knew she felt it, too. He could feel her watching him, he could see the worry in her eyes when she didn’t realise he was watching her.

  That had to be fixed.

  Flynn had talked to him after the wedding, just the two of them, and had told him a bit about what it must have been like for his mum when she was only eighteen and having a baby. Flynn told Toby how amazingly brave she’d been and that she’d chosen, with her huge heart, to go it alone, despite Flynn’s and Dev’s promise to go find “the bastard” who’d got her pregnant. Toby had merely blinked when Flynn had used the word bastard. He rarely cursed and it made Toby realise that his uncle was expecting him to understand, to accept those adult concepts.

  Toby still didn’t know the whole story – he didn’t know how come his father had another family, how come he and Mia were practically the same age. But he understood enough to know that that fact alone pretty much broke his mother’s heart and, most importantly, it wasn’t her fault. Flynn had said she’d tried to find Toni but had got no response. Toby believed him. Flynn didn’t lie. He’d been blaming her for everything when in reality, it seemed, it was his father who’d messed up.

  Definitely time to fix things.

  “Mum?”

  “Hmm?”

  “I’m sorry,” Toby said quietly, his gaze on the endless dark sky out of the porthole of a window.

  “What have you done now?” Her voice was sleepy, teasing.

  “Nothing. I don’t mean sorry for doing something. I mean sorry for not.”

  He paused as he felt her turn her head in his direction. Her hand reached across the leather armrest and touched his gently.

  “Talk to me.”

  That’s what she always said when she knew he had a problem or a situation that was bothering him. The everydayness of that phrase, the normality of those softly said words released his tongue like nothing else.

  “I’m sorry for not understanding how sad you must have felt finding out my father was dead. I was only thinking about how unfair it was for me. That I’d no dad, that I was missing out, and, to me then, it was all your fault.”

  He turned his head briefly to meet her brimming eyes, his own scratchy and uncomfortable. His throat hurt and he could barely swallow. He turned back to the non-view. It was easier than seeing all that love and understanding in one go.

  “I’m sorry I was mean to you. I hate when you’re upset with me, but I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t.” His voice turned fierce, the anger making an unwelcome return.

  “You have nothing, nothing, to be sorry about,” his mum said gently but very definitely. “And I now know I don’t, either. I should have tracked Toni down years ago, but I didn’t. I can’t change that. I can’t change that I was too late, much as I want to.

  “But I’m so happy you’ve found a new family. One that loves you dearly. Grandparents whose lives are lit up again because they know you. That’s something you wouldn’t have had if I hadn’t gone looking this past autumn. They wouldn’t have such joy now, either. I won’t be sorry for that.” She gently ran her hand up and down his stiff arm. “Toby?”

  He turned his head, his nose itchy, eyes still begging to be washed out. He raised his eyebrow in return.

  “I found a diary that your father wrote the summer we met. It’s . . . ” she paused. “It’s beautiful. When you’re a bit older I’ll let you read it, because it’ll show you how much we loved each other. I know you don’t want to hear all that mushy stuff now, but one day, one day that mush will make you very happy. I promise.”

  Toby smiled as he listened to her. He definitely didn’t want to hear mush stuff – hell, no – but that brought him on to the other topic. One that also had to be tackled, and certainly before they landed.

  “Mum, what about Nick? Is he your boyfriend?”

  Dear God. That blasted sixty-four million-dollar question. Was Nick her boyfriend? Toby had asked, had every right to ask, but she hadn’t been able to answer. She tried the old “it’s complicated” platitude and he’d snorted with derision.

  That had led to an “I really can’t answer that” get-out-of-jail-free card, but Toby merely waited it out. Finally, she broke.

  “I think he might be. But it’s not official, so I don’t want you to question him or anything, okay?”

  Toby had said “Sure, no problem,” but he expected to be updated if things changed.

  Updated! What normal thirteen-year-old wanted an update on their mother’s love life? None, that’s who, but then they weren’t the norm. And that situation suited them fine. But inside, Caro was anxious. Her stomach was churning at the daunting task of meeting Nick’s family. More of Toni’s and Toby’s relatives. She wasn’t sure how much more she could
take.

  She stroked the first-edition copy of the book Nick had given her for her Christmas gift. The fading red fabric cover was indented with gold writing – Stories of the Italian Artists from Vasari by E.L. Seeley – the 1906 edition. It was beautiful. Caro had of course read Emma Louise’s book before, but a modern copy and nothing as special as this. She was enchanted. Exactly what she’d have chosen but would never had treated herself to – it was just so special. She was flabbergasted by his thoughtfulness. And generosity.

  Toby had been speechless on opening his gift and Caro had to give Nick top marks for his choice. The nutcracker was packed in Toby’s bag now, because he’d be flying straight back to Rome from JFK in a few days and there was no way he was leaving his precious present behind. But what did it all mean?

  All Caro knew was her heart kicked up a gear at the thought that Nick would be there, at the airport, to meet them. That they’d be spending time together – away from the di Lucas and the drama that surrounded that family – just them. The three of them and hopefully, at times, just two.

  The best bit of all these last few days and especially today? Toby and she were just about back on track, and nothing in her world could make her happier. And seeing her best friend become her actual sister, her brothers become emotional and her parents beaming with joy – well, it had to have been the best Christmas ever. Caro turned her head, repositioning the pillow, and saw that Toby had finally fallen. His sweet, dark head was lolling against the window and he was fast asleep. Now that was a good idea.

  The Sullivans were a mad bunch. Nick’s mother, Rosa, the di Luca connection, was quite the interrogator. From the moment they piled out of the yellow cab in the Bay Ridge, Brooklyn neighbourhood and up the steps of the four-storey brownstone, she’d fired questions at both Caro and Toby. Nick’s father, Mikey, on the other hand, just smiled a lot and passed around drinks. He was teasing and joking with Toby before the second two fingers of Scotch was poured, and Rosa kept passing her hand over Toby’s dark hair and smiling mistily.

  Caro was enchanted.

  In an odd and quite different way, it was exactly like being at home in Dublin. Not sure how the feeling of the house evoked the Dalkey home, but it did. Nick’s elder brother, Sal and his heavily pregnant wife, Louise, came by for the delicious dinner Rosa had prepared and his younger sister, Gia, hurried in the back door just as everyone sat down.

  “Sorry, Momma,” she called as she raced through the dining area, “have to wash up – trust me you, don’t want me sitting at the table the way I am. Oh, hi, Irish family,” she chirped as she caught sight of the guests when she blitzed by. “Can’t wait to meet you!” And she was gone.

  Caro turned to Nick, seated to her right.

  “Is she in the police force?” she asked, sort of recognising the uniform on the slender girl’s body.

  “For now,” Nick grimaced. “It’s a bit of a sore subject. Gia isn’t really sure yet what she wants to do. She tried law school, finance and, hey, Sal . . . ” He leaned forwards to catch his brother’s eye. “What was the other string of things our baby sister has tried besides law and accounts?”

  Sal sat back in his chair and quirked his eyebrow at Caro.

  “How long you got?” he said, deadpan. He stuck his hand out, counting off on his fingers. “Besides them two? I got English lit, social studies, psychology and drama. Although to be honest with ya, it’s all drama with Angelica.”

  He heaved a rather dramatic sigh himself and his wife poked him in the ribs.

  “Leave her alone!” she protested. “Just because you two boys had your careers mapped out from inside your mother’s womb doesn’t mean Gia has to know her path already. She’s young yet,” she added, sounding hopeful.

  “Young?” Mikey Sullivan piped in. “She’s twenty-five if she’s a day. Right, Rosa?”

  “Twenty-seven last birthday,” Rosa supplied, her own voice flat as she appeared to contemplate her daughter’s never-ending studies.

  “But she’s in the police force now?” Caro asked again.

  “Yup. She’s completed her training and is considered a rookie. And she’s taking criminology classes at night, too,” Nick supplied.

  He may not have been aware of it, but a strong note of pride had entered his tone.

  Huh, Caro considered. He was proud of her. He liked that she tried different careers on for size. I wonder, did he always think that?

  “So a bit like you, then,” she ventured, “changing careers from a chosen path.”

  Nick stared at her as a hush fell on the dining table.

  “I haven’t changed careers. I’m an architect on a break to help my family. Your son’s family,” he emphasised, bristling.

  But Caro held her ground.

  “What? That’s daft and you know it! Does your family know how successful you are in the hotel business? That you turned it around after Toni let things slide?”

  Gasps were heard and the pin-dropping scenario was definitely in play. She looked about her, not wanting to be rude, but if Caro had learned anything over the past few months, it was that life was too short not to be heard.

  “I don’t mean to speak ill of the dead, especially as it’s my son’s father we’re talking about, but Toni let things go. According to Antonio, the Paradiso chain was in trouble, or close to, when Nick took over. He’s done an amazing job, overseeing not just the Rome site but all the hotels. And he’s really good at it, hotel management, that is. He fixes things. He listens. He cares.”

  “Well, he was always a problem-solver,” Gia’s raspy voice broke in as she sauntered into the dining room dressed in jeans and a warm sweater with a snowman on the front.

  Lights flashed from the snowman’s eyes, giving it an evil glare.

  Nick’s eyes locked on Caro’s. His lips were pulled tight and she realised his hands were balled into fists on the table. Crap. She’d gone too far.

  But hey. He had loads to say about her career choices and she was just calling it as she saw it. Nick was good at this new line of work. Maybe he was also an excellent architect – she was pretty sure he was based on the renovations of the Rome Paradiso, but he breathed both the hotel and the people who served with him.

  “Admit it, Nick, you love it there. You’re needed. People respect you and the decisions you make regarding their futures. You must see that?” She placed her hand gently on top of his clenched fist. “I’m not saying it has to be forever, but you can’t leave yet. What about all those projects you have on the go at the moment?”

  Nick shifted uneasily in his chair but let his hand unfurl under hers, the tension seeping out of him. He looked about the table. All eyes were on him and he knew he had to be honest – with himself, his family, with Caroline. She didn’t realise it but she had in fact just opened the door he intended knocking down this visit anyway.

  “Caroline’s right.” He looked at his mother and then his father, his eyes serious as he held their respective gazes. “I intend to hand in my final notice to the firm within the next few days. I’m quitting the architecture firm.”

  Following a stunned silence, the noise level rose, if it was possible, to an even higher racket than before, but Nick only had eyes for one woman.

  “Thank you for making me see what was right under my nose. I do love it at the hotel – at all the hotels – and I’ll stay till I’m not needed any more. Whenever that might be.” He let his eyes land on Toby, who was watching them intently. “This young man may take over the reins one day. No pressure,” he added quickly as Toby looked stunned. “But it’s in your blood. And your father would be so proud.”

  “But no pressure,” Caroline and Toby said, at exactly the same time.

  The room erupted again and this time in laughter. Nick looked at his mom. She was discreetly wiping her eyes with her table napkin.

  “What, Momma? Does this make you unhappy?” Nick asked quietly in her native tongue.

  “No! Yes, a little,” she admitted. “We
miss you so much, that’s the only reason.”

  “Well, that’s settled, then. You and Pop can come visit in the spring – you know Valentina’s been asking and asking. You can take an extended vacation.”

  And so it continued. Everyone talking over everyone else. Including Toby in all manner of discussions. Gia and the kid were laughing hysterically at some joke she related, and Nick suddenly realised Caroline was gently rubbing her thumb back and forth over his hand in a soothing gesture. As soon as he became aware of it, the sensation changed.

  Her touch felt different, the skin on skin more intense. His body began reacting to the slight pressure and he turned his hand around, lacing his fingers through hers in what seemed the most natural gesture in the world. For a beat her fingers stilled then, a second later, she closed hers softly about his. Nick’s chest tightened. He wasn’t sure he recognised the feeling, but he was pretty sure it spelled happy.

  New Year’s Eve dawned frosty and bitter. The wind chill was some stupid low figure that Caro couldn’t even understand, she just knew it was bloody freezing. Wrapped in a down parka and cashmere scarf – thank you, Frankie – she strolled down Fifth Avenue with Toby. They’d visited several tourist sights over the last two days since arriving and although pretty exhausted, they were also buzzing with the thrill of it all.

  Caro looked at her watch.

  “Come on, Tobias, we said we’d meet Nick at that diner in Greenwich Village – we’d better gather some speed or we’ll be late.”