Roman Holiday Read online

  She hailed a cab – my God, I just hailed an NYC yellow cab – and they were downtown within minutes. Toby’s eyes had glazed over at least a day ago, he was so bowled over by absolutely everything they saw. Each new treat, each new sight. Yesterday at the Twin Towers Memorial they’d both fallen silent as Mikey, their tour guide for the morning, had found the names of three of his old friends, all firefighters, who’d perished. She knew neither she nor Toby would ever forget that moment when the reality of that day became real, for them.

  Not one to stay maudlin, Mikey had then brought them to an amazing coffee shop, where they ate a Reuben sandwich (Toby – who knew he’d eat corned beef??) and a lox bagel (Caro – the cured salmon with cream cheese was delicious.) They’d been giddy with delight and Mikey had regaled them with stories from his old neighbourhood, his early life with Rosa and, of course, his “kids”. Nick had featured predominately and Caro could feel herself blush, as most of those stories were directed at her.

  What Nick’s family made of the two of them, she wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure what she made of them. Since arriving, they’d spent approximately zero time together and Rosa had put Toby in her room, so no “extracurricular” activities were happening, but Nick had texted her and told her tonight was theirs.

  Sal, Louise and Gia were taking Toby to Time Square to watch the ball drop and he was like a two-year-old on a sugar high with anticipation. “He may never get to do this again,” they’d begged. “He’ll remember it forever,” they’d said. And she had, albeit reluctantly, agreed. “All right, darling, you can go,” she’d said. And the second those words were uttered, she’d been transported to that autumn day, newly arrived in the Eternal City, sitting outside a café chatting to her boy, giving permission for him to go on a school tour. When she had, quite literally, bumped into a tall, dark, handsome and, let’s not forget, hot stranger. So much had happened to change the course of both of their lives since that morning.

  And that evening.

  But tonight, Nick was getting a takeaway and they, just the two of them, were eating in the family home in Brooklyn. Nick had been going to take her to his own small apartment in a different, more hip area of the district, but Rosa had said she had a bunch of Toni’s things they might like to look through. Decision made. The Sullivan parents were going to overnight with relations on Long Island, so the house would be theirs.

  Was it wrong for Caro to feel relieved that Toby and Gia were staying at Sal and Louise’s? That her belly was fizzing with the pretty certain knowledge that she and Nick would be getting naked in the very near future?

  God, she hoped so.

  When she thought about the night after the wedding, her skin would tingle and she’d get that feeling, that tightness, that on-the-edge delight that made her wish she was alone in her room with a vibrator, or better still, with the man himself. No need for a sex toy later, that was for damn sure. Nick had proved he knew exactly how to use several parts of his anatomy, as well as many parts of hers.

  She shivered. She craved his hands on her, his lips on her, his tongue on, in, over her. Christ! Her own porn video was playing in her head, with her as the star. This had to stop. It was broad daylight and she was blushing as she sat in a diner with her son, awaiting her porn co-star. Madness.

  “Hey, Caroline. Kid.” Nick slid into the booth next to Caro. “What did you guys get up to this morning?”

  He didn’t need to ask twice. Toby filled him in. All Caro could think was thank God her child could talk for Ireland. She was speechless. Nick had slid his hand over her thigh, and was gently squeezing and stroking her flesh. The fact that it was through her jeans didn’t register with her lady parts – they were up and humming.

  Boldly, she took his hand and skid it up further, to the juncture between thigh and hip, and pressed slightly. Not a slow learner, Nick took over. Within minutes he was shifting on the seat next to her, as obviously turned on as she was.

  “Toby, could you go choose the pies for later from the dessert counter?”

  And as the boy scooted from opposite them, Nick turned and met her gaze straight on.

  “Jesus, woman. I’m in danger of behaving like a randy teenager.”

  He turned his whole body towards her and reached for her hand. The heat of his erection, even through his trousers, had her smirking with pride.

  “I’m glad I’m not the only one,” she whispered. Her power over his body urged her on, making her brave, naughty, daring. “I can’t wait for later. I want you to do unspeakable things to me – in your old schoolboy bedroom.”

  He groaned. His breath hitched. “You’d better be careful what you wish for, Caroline, I’m all in with this.”

  Toby’s return to the table with a list of treats jotted down on a piece of paper brought them to their senses. Nick’s hand returned to the tabletop. Probably for the best, Caro thought, as she was alarmingly close to panting. She smiled at the two males sitting with her.

  She was . . . happy. She couldn’t think of another place or time she’d rather be than right here, right now, listening to the two people she loved best laughing and joking with each other.

  Abruptly, she stood and, murmuring “Bathroom,” escaped down the small corridor to the right of the counter. Snapping the stall door shut, she leaned back against the cheap wood and closed her eyes tightly.

  She was in deep shit.

  She loved him. Hell, she was in love with Nick Sullivan! All the way in. Where do we go from here? She waited for the panic, the flight pattern to kick in as she absorbed the enormity of what her brain, her heart and her body were telling her.

  But nothing came.

  Or rather, nothing scary. Instead, a warmth spread through her as she let in the feeling of being completely sure she wanted to be with Nick. Completely sure. How would that work? Did he feel the same? She was more than well aware he wanted her, no mixed signals there – but did he want her the same way, all the ways she wanted him? She snapped her eyes open and peeled herself away from the door.

  Well, she would find out.

  Tonight.

  She’d ask him, that’s what she’d do. The Caro before all these recent developments in her life would have run for the hills, but this Caro, the new, improved, “life’s too fucking short” Caro, this woman was taking her life back. No more pining for what might have been, what could or should have happened. Everything that had happened up till now had brought her here. Okay, maybe not to this tiny bathroom stall – but to this new level of acceptance in her decisions, belief in her right to seize her happiness and her permission to let go of the past. Loving Nick, knowing she could be strong enough to love again, to give of herself again, even without knowing the outcome, that knowledge was power.

  Bring it on! Yeah, that was going to be her new motto.

  She returned to the booth, her head high, her heart thrumming with a new level of happy, and took her seat. Her food had arrived and she tucked into the gorgeous burger with gusto. Nick and Toby looked at her curiously, but she simply smiled over the oozing mayo-and-ketchup blend that was spilling from the bun.

  “Everything okay there?” Nick asked, his gorgeous, sexy eyebrow lifted as he used a napkin to catch the drip on her chin.

  God, she even loved his damn eyebrows!

  “Just peachy,” she declared.

  “You’re weird, Mum. You get that, right?” Toby laughed as he munched on fries, also laden with the ketchup–mayo blend.

  “Pot, kettle, Tobias,” she winked at him, “pot, kettle!”

  “She’s got you there, kid. Peas in a pod.” Nick shook his head but his chocolate eyes were smiling.

  Carol smiled back at him. Their eyes locked.

  Bring it on.

  Chapter 22

  The night didn’t exactly go as planned.

  It started out perfectly. The house was empty except for Caro and Nick, the food that he’d ordered was delivered on time, hot and insanely tasty. The wine he poured was crisp and zi
ngy, perfect for the array of Asian-fusion platters in front of them. Hell, even the innuendos and verbal foreplay were spot-on.

  Caro could feel her insides melting as Nick recounted a funny story from his old days in the firm and if she hadn’t been laughing at the antics he was describing, she’d surely have melted in a pool of sex at his feet. He wore a casual long-sleeved grey marl T-shirt, shoved up to just below his elbows. Those defined forearms were tempting her, the way the dark hair looked all silky against his skin, and the sinews of his muscles as he turned the corkscrew, all made her pulse beat just a little faster. His well-worn jeans hugged narrow hips and fit snuggly on his ass. She knew what that ass looked like in the flesh, so to speak, but it sure didn’t detract from the present view. No siree.

  Caro sighed. She was acting like a sex-starved lunatic, no question, because even his sturdy leather lace-up shoes made her tingle. He was just so fucking manly, she thought, and flopped back in her chair when he left the room to get dessert. The kind of man you read about – smart, hot, rugged yet kind to children and animals. Could he be more perfect?

  Get real, Caro, she chided herself. No such thing. She quickly reminded herself of his tendency to jump to conclusions, his crazy, overdeveloped work ethic, his need to be in control of everything in his sphere, his . . .

  “I didn’t bother with dishes,” Nick said as he sauntered back into the living room, where they sat at the low occasional table.

  He put the carton of chocolate-buttered almond decadence and two spoons on the table and sat back down. Then he reached behind and gathered up a bunch of large Manila envelopes.

  “I thought we could look through these now while we have no snooping eyes or ears, what do you think?”

  She was relieved. The thought of going through Toni’s private things with an audience had been daunting.

  “Good plan.”

  She smiled confidently at Nick. She could do this. She took the first padded package from him and peeled back the opening. The sheaf of papers she hauled out turned out to be ownership papers of his several cars. How odd. And the insurance documents to go with them. Why would he send them here?

  Nick opened the second padded envelope. It was the torn-out pages from the diary. Pay dirt.

  “Well, that was easy enough,” he said as he handed them to Caro. “Here, you should be the one to read them.”

  She reached for the pages, surprised to find her hand shaking slightly. More nervous about this than I thought. But what was she expecting, really? The facts spoke for themselves. He’d preferred his other family. Yes, it now seemed he had indeed been in love with her, but just not enough in the end. She caught Nick’s eyes. He was sombre, serious. He understood, she realised.

  “Whatever’s in there doesn’t change the truth you’ve read so far. Toni loved you. Very much.” He dug a spoon into the ice cream and handed it to her. “For sustenance,” he said and the corner of his mouth twitched up.

  She swallowed and moaned. God, it was good. And the little sugar hit of encouragement she needed.

  She began to read.

  Spooning ice cream abstractedly, Nick watched her closely as she skimmed the handwritten pages and then went back to reread them. The adorable little frown between her brows did nothing to distract from the charming picture she made, her feet now tucked under her on the comfy couch they’d moved to.

  She wore the same soft jeans from earlier but had changed from her usual cardigan to a wide scoop-necked silky top the exact blue of her eyes. She was beautiful sitting there in the half-light, a standard lamp behind her chair casting a soft glow. She nibbled her lip, a sure sign things weren’t going great in the missive in her hand. Jesus, he hoped his cousin wasn’t being an asshole. Maybe he should have read them first – but no, these were thoughts and words about her and no one else. She owned them, really.

  All he could do was support her through the fallout, whatever that may be. All he knew was that he’d support her for as long as she needed him. He was thinking forever. He was hoping for forever. Every day, every hour he spent with her seemed like a mere flash – he needed to make those moments last. He needed to . . .

  “Nick.” Her voice wobbled.

  Shit! He’d taken an eye off her to scoop up some dessert. He lowered the spoon. Her face was pale, her eyes shocked.

  “Here,” she said, thrusting the pages at him, “read.”

  She leaned forwards and dropped her head in her hands. They were trembling. Nick went to hold her.

  “No, please, just read. I need a moment.”

  Nick scanned the pages quickly. All was as expected. Toni was devastated, he missed her already, he wrote every day – real letters as she’d requested, not emails. Nick looked up.

  “Letters?”

  “Never got any.”

  He went back to the diary. The same: missing, lonely, work and . . . wait . . . Elena and Marianna had called for a formal visit. To speak to Toni. To tell him of her “condition”. Nick glanced up at Caroline.

  “He says here he never slept with Marianna. He swears it. He writes in complete shock.”

  “I know. But it’s a lie. He did.”

  “It doesn’t make sense.” Nick cast his eyes back down and continued reading. “Why would he lie in his own diary?”

  The words before him were anguished, real, tormented. Nick swallowed hard. Christ, the poor bastard. He’d been caught between a rock and a hard place. He peered at the words, hoping for a clue to the truth.

  I didn’t! How could I? When would I? Why are they saying these lies? I have never even kissed Marianna, or at least not for years and then it was only a peck, a childish kiss. What can I do?

  Marianna swears it was the night of the cousins’ wedding, but I don’t remember – I don’t! I know I had a lot to drink, but that was because I was bored and missing CeeCee so much – I just wanted to be with her. For God’s sake, why would I do such a thing and why don’t I remember?

  Yes, I woke up the next morning on the couch in the hotel lobby, my mind completely and totally blank from the previous evening, but I assumed I just drank and fell asleep. Marianna says I walked her to her room and we made love in her bed. Apparently I left before dawn. But I can’t have! I wouldn’t have. I love CeeCee!

  “He sounds pretty adamant that he didn’t do it,” Nick commented dryly, having finished another page.

  “Read on.” Caroline’s voice was low, hurt, confused.

  Nick did. Toni seemingly was accused of calling Marianna a liar and putting her reputation at stake. She told him straight up, in even tones, by all accounts, that he had, in fact, impregnated her. And her mother, the strict matriarch, Elena, insisted they marry straight away to avoid a scandal. For both families. Toni’s parents were informed of their son’s behaviour and they, too, took the hard line and insisted on marriage. The di Lucas didn’t do single parenting and neither, it seemed, did the Rossis.

  Toni was trapped.

  The last few pages of the torn-out diary were filled with laments and heartbreak over his loss of his CeeCee. He’d written a final letter explaining everything and hoped she’d forgive him. He was daily devastated that she hadn’t responded to his letters. He’d found his lost mobile and tried texting but nothing was returned. He’d tried phoning the number, but it wouldn’t connect properly. Had he taken it down wrong? But no, she’d entered it into his phone, so she must have given him the wrong number. On purpose. CeeCee hadn’t loved him the way he loved her. His only course was to man up, marry Marianna and start over.

  Nick put down the sheets of paper and sighed. God, it was heartbreaking reading of the pain his young cousin had been in.

  “I know I put my number in correctly. I know it. We didn’t use our phones when we were together as his was always out of battery or he was constantly misplacing it. And as you know, he liked to write. He’d leave me notes at the school, or in our favourite meeting place – it’s why we decided to write instead of email. I didn’t even give him m
y email, but I had his, so he would have been able to return one if he ever got mine. The question is, if what he says is true, why didn’t he answer mine if he did get them?”

  Caroline fell back against the cushions, her eyes closed, lips in a tight, unhappy line.

  Nick got up and moved to crouch down beside her.

  “I don’t know the answers to any of this, but we’ll figure a way to find out.” He stroked his thumb gently across her cheek. “I promise.”

  He turned back to the pile of brown envelopes and upended another one. Another sealed envelope fell out onto the table. Nick picked it up and turned it over.

  “Christ,” he muttered and faced it towards Caroline.

  She blanched. The writing was scrawled in heavy black ink across the front: in case of my premature death. What the fuck?

  Nick raised an eyebrow at the tense woman next to him. She nodded and he slit his finger along the seal. He carefully extracted a wad of papers held together by a paper clip.

  “You read them first,” she said quietly.

  But Nick shook his head.

  “I’ll read them aloud so we can hear together. Shall I translate as I go or read in Italian?” he asked.

  “Translate, please.”

  So Nick nodded and began.

  What a hot-shit mess. Caro opened her eyes to stare into Nick’s ashen face.

  There was a beat of silence as he stared at the sheets of paper, so innocent-looking, in his hand. They were just pages from an A4 jotter, nothing out of the ordinary and yet, what they held was in fact extraordinary. And not in any good way.

  “The fuckers,” he growled. “Someone tried to kill Toni – shit, somebody did kill him!”

  “We don’t know that for sure.” Caro rubbed her aching temple wondering, not for the first time, how her life could have become such complete cock-up over the last few months.

  “I’m pretty damn certain we do know it.” Nick slapped the papers on the table. “We need to show this to someone in charge – three accidents in as many months? That’s not coincidence!” Nick got up and paced, his energy crackling like a tangible thing. “Toni describes three different times he was close to death in the few months before he died. He was scared enough to write this shit down. That means he believed it. We have to contact the police, look at the accident report. We need . . . ”