Can't Stop Loving You Page 8

  In the next few months, Bella’s father took right to Roman, despite the fact that Roman was of Greek heritage, that he had been raised by a liberal single mother, and most important of all, that he was dating his daughter.

  Roman wasn’t afraid to get dirty, and the magic words “Can I help?” seemed to bring out an unexpected side of Mr. D’Angelo. Roman helped him load hay and tomatoes, unload corn, and fix tractors. He hauled and lugged and assisted when watering systems broke down and pumpkins needed harvesting.

  “I like your friend Ethan, but he doesn’t know an emitter from his shoelace,” Vito said one day to Bella. “But this boy,” he said, tilting his head toward Roman, “he’s good with his hands.”

  Roman did his best not to look at Bella. Yet he couldn’t help it, and there she was, smiling and casting him a knowing glance that made him immediately look back down at the spark plugs he was helping her father change.

  Roman had never experienced anything like this. He wanted to spend every minute of his free time with Bella. And he didn’t mind her family. Her little brother was cute, a natural charmer, and Roman didn’t have to try very hard to win him over. Roman understood how strict Bella’s father was, but he was eager to prove that he respected his daughter and would do anything to please her—and him.

  So months passed with Roman doing his best to act the gentleman. He’d made out with lots of girls before, had gotten to various bases, but with Bella he’d really tried to be different.

  “Bella, sweetheart,” he said, gently grabbing her hands away from his crotch and holding her wrists one night when they were parked in his car at the scenic lookout. “Stop. You’re driving me wild.”

  “Roman, we need to talk,” she said.

  That was probably the last thing he was capable of right now, but he nodded and let go of her and adjusted his pants, because his things were very tight down there. He forced himself to sit up straight and take a few deep breaths. “Okay. Let’s talk.”

  “Well, I appreciate that you’re very respectful of me, but I’m crazy in love with you and I want to ask if you’d like to . . . like to take our relationship to the next level.”

  Would he like to take this to the next level? He was crazy about Bella, too, more than he’d ever been for any girl. He would have done anything for her, including keep his hands off her if that was what she wanted. Or at least try to.

  “Wait a minute,” he said, suddenly grabbing her by the arms. “Did you just say you were in love with me?”

  “Yeah. I did. I’m sorry if you’re unhappy about that, but it’s the truth.” She cast him a wary glance. Grabbed her sweater from the seat like she was going to open the door and bolt.

  “Wait.” He reached out to rub his palm over her sweet, soft cheek. Cupped his hand around her neck and pulled her closer. Looked into her eyes and whispered, “I love you, too.”

  The thing was, Marjorie had told him in her usual blunt way on more than one occasion that his penis was a loaded weapon, and he should be very careful where he put it. He understood that. He was grateful that she’d adopted him and thankful for her unfailing love, and he’d never do anything less than make her glad she’d taken him in and changed his life for the better.

  So he knew the decision to make love wasn’t an impulsive one. He was aware of the responsibility. And he wanted to plan something special.

  One cold December evening just before dusk he drove them to the Mirror Lake Nature Center, which was basically a little-kid hangout. It was right next to the lake and as he predicted, it was deserted at that time of day.

  Multicolored Christmas lights hung in a string along the roofline, lighting their way as they followed the little pathway to the back of the building near where old Mr. Richardson kept the birdfeeders stocked. Sure enough, an old rowboat was tethered to a skinny maple trunk, just as Roman had left it earlier. He put an old cooler and his duffle bag in the boat and braced himself on the bank, waiting for Bella to climb down.

  “It’s December,” she said, as if he needed reminding he was freezing his ass off.

  He blew out a breath, which immediately turned into a little white cloud. “But the lake’s not frozen yet.”

  “Where are you taking me? It’s cold.” She burrowed her chin further into her scarf and wrapped her arms around herself.

  He held out his hand for her. “Somewhere with no little brothers, or parents, or cramped cars. Somewhere special.” She took his hand and sandwiched it between her purple mittens.

  “You didn’t have to fuss,” she said. “I don’t care where we go as long as we’re together, Roman.”

  “I know you don’t care,” he said. But he did. He wanted this night to be special. The first thing he did once they were both settled in the boat was flip a little battery-operated switch. In the almost dark, the outline of the old boat lit up with strings of tiny white lights, a quiet glow in the mist that reflected off the black marble surface of the water.

  “Very pretty,” she said.

  He looked at her, pleased that she was smiling. “Yes, you are.” Then he started to row, steadily, rhythmically, the oars cutting the almost-still water, the blue rectangular cooler sandwiched between their legs. Halfway across, he stopped and let them drift for a minute.

  “It’s different,” she said, staring out at the water. “The lake.” Christmas lights dotted most of the houses on shore, continuing the illusion of magic. “I’ve never been out here in December.”

  “Neither have I. Until now.” He searched her face, scouring it for any sign of doubt. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  “Yeah,” she said, a faint smile turning up her lips. “But I’m afraid I’m not going to be any good at it.”

  He laughed. “You can’t possibly do anything wrong.” He was the man. It was his job to ensure they did things right. Wasn’t it? “And I did tell you I haven’t done this before, either, didn’t I?”

  She leaned over and kissed him. “Guess we’ll figure it out together.”

  He ran a finger along her cheek, which was cold but so soft. Looked deep into her eyes, which were a little watery from the cold. “I’d do anything for you, Bella. Anything. You know that, don’t you?” He was so full of love for her his heart hurt. He couldn’t remember feeling happy like this ever before in his life. Couldn’t believe this had happened to him of all people. He, who’d had such a sad and lonely childhood, who even now tended to be a little too solitary, a little too guarded. But she’d changed him. Made him less afraid about opening up. Took away all that old sorrow and filled his heart with the pure joy of being with her.

  He banked the boat on a woodsy part of the shoreline. Tied it to a beat-up old dock. Judging by the absolute darkness, there weren’t any houses around, at least not occupied ones. She helped him carry the cooler up a sloping, neglected lawn to an old cabin.

  He set the cooler down in front of the door. “You have to wait out here a minute, okay?”

  She looked around. It was pitch black except for his flashlight. “Are you kidding?”

  “Hey, at least there’re no bugs.” She hated bugs. Any kind, but especially spiders. “Be back in a sec.”

  It was a little scary out there, so he let her stand inside the cabin door if she promised to face the door and close her eyes. There was a solitary bare lightbulb hanging from the ceiling, which he flicked on while he worked. He’d rowed out here earlier, gathering firewood and kindling, and he now he lit a fire in the fireplace, got it going nice and strong. Then he unzipped his bag and did some more setting up.

  “Okay,” he said at last. “Turn around and open your eyes—oh, wait! I’ve got to turn off the light.” He ran back across the room and flicked off the switch. Returning to her side, he took her hand. “Now look.”

  She opened her eyes, which instantly went wide and even got teary. “Oh, Roman,” she said, looking from him to the scene before them. The fire was crackling along brightly, and he’d lit a dozen candles in little glass cups.
Interspersed between the candles were pieces of paper. Bella walked over near the fireplace, where he’d set up an air mattress and blanket. Then she read the message spelled out on the papers. I LOVE YOU BELLA.

  “I love you, too,” she whispered.

  Then he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. Her lips were soft and moist, and she fit into his arm so perfectly, his sweet Bella. He knew then that they were meant to be together, that he’d never love anyone as much as he did her. Their kisses became urgent, their touches more frantic. They made love in front of that fire, and it might’ve been a little clumsy and awkward, but it was also sweet and incredible.

  He was so afraid he was hurting her, and she kept saying, “No, you aren’t, keep going,” and then suddenly he was inside of her and she’d relaxed a little. Finally so did he, and when he made himself look at her to make sure she was okay, she was smiling up at him, and he swore that as long as he lived he’d remember that look in her eyes, that look of complete, pure trust. He knew in that moment he’d do anything for her, give her anything, scale mountains and deserts and oceans for her happiness.

  As gently as he could, he began to move against her, being so careful not to cause her any more pain, until finally she tugged him more fully against her, wrapped her arms and legs around him tightly, and said, “It’s good, Roman. Go faster.” And he felt her smile against his cheek until passion took over and swept them both away.

  “Fuck.”

  Oh fuck, he hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

  Bella sat up on the air mattress and looked at him from across the small room. “What is it? Did you hurt yourself?” The fire was dying down, and the chill in the cabin was noticeable for the first time. She pulled the sides of her shirt together and started buttoning up. “Do you need help?”

  He was turned away from her, bending over his dick, paralyzed for a second. He didn’t want to tell her what he’d just discovered. Yet how could he keep it from her?

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” she asked again, panic edging her voice as she got up and walked over to him.

  He bent to the floor, picked up his pants, and tugged them on. Then he turned toward her and held her by the arms. “It tore.”

  “What?” Her forehead crinkled, then her eyes grew wide as understanding dawned.

  “The condom. It tore.”

  She released a breath. “Oh. It’s okay, Roman. We should be okay. I haven’t missed a pill since I started two weeks ago. I mean, the doctor said to use a condom too for the first month, and we did, so it’s like we had two methods on board, just like she said.”

  She must’ve seen his expression, or the tension in his shoulders, because she walked up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “It’s all right, we’re covered. Don’t worry about it.”

  She sounded pretty confident, and her tone relaxed him a little. Plus she’d started kneading his shoulders, which felt amazing. “Thank you for doing all this,” she said. “It was magical. All of it.” Her hair was wild, thick waves tumbling everywhere. He turned toward her and brushed it back, reveling in the feel of the long, silken strands. Then she dropped kisses on his chest, her curves warm and soft against him. He reached down to cup her face and tilted her head up. “I love you,” he said, kissing her. He’d never meant anything more.

  Who’d have ever thought that he, an orphan, would find someone to love him so completely, someone who knew all about his crappy upbringing and his quirks and loved him anyway? All worries faded as he bent down to kiss her again and press their bodies together, and whisper in her ear that he’d never let her go.

  CHAPTER 7

  “I need you to do me a favor,” Maggie McShae, Bella’s business partner, said as soon as Bella entered their shared office space right smack in the middle of Main Street. It was Monday night, and Bella was getting ready for her weekly divorced or bereaved group for seniors.

  Bella detected the trace of anxiety in Maggie’s voice. “Sure, what is it?” Bella asked, adjusting the thermostat so the air conditioning clicked off. The night was clear and just a little cool, and she decided that opening the big old-fashioned sash windows that faced the street and letting in some fresh air would be a lot more pleasant than the recirculated kind.

  “Will you check if all the burners are off in the back? I made tea, and I—”

  Bella shot a concerned look at her friend. Her blonde hair was tied back with a ribbon. Pulling her hair off her face made her blue eyes look huge, and Bella noticed she had dark circles under them. Bella suddenly remembered what was really going on—that tomorrow was the two-year anniversary of Maggie’s husband’s death after a prolonged battle with cancer. “No problem. You need to go home to Griffin. It’s almost seven.” She herself had worked until five, gone home for dinner, and was now back for her group therapy session tonight, while Maggie had never left the office.

  “The babysitter took him and his friend from preschool to a movie. They’re not due back for another half an hour.” Maggie was putting in some long hours lately, and her OCD was really acting up, a sure sign of some other stress going on in her life. She and Maggie had known each other since grade school, so it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that out. “If I would’ve known you were still here,” Bella said, “I’d have brought you some of my lasagna.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I was just catching up on paperwork.” Maggie picked up her leather satchel from the reception counter and shoved her computer into it.

  “Don’t forget tomorrow night—dinner at MacNamara’s with the girls. You promised to support me before my big date.” Bella’s best friends—Maggie, Samantha Spikonos, and Jessica Martin, who taught with Sam at Mirror Lake High—had each insisted on fixing her up with nice guys they knew, and for some reason she’d agreed to be their guinea pig. Her first date was tomorrow. She was counting on their support.

  “I wouldn’t miss it. You know how badly we all want you to stay in town.”

  “I’m not really sure why I agreed to this.”

  “Um, because we plied you with margaritas until you said yes, remember?” A look of worry flashed across Maggie’s face. “Is something up with you?”

  “No. What makes you think that?” Her problems weren’t even worth mentioning in the face of what Maggie was going through.

  “Just that I ran into Marjorie and she told me about the face-off with Vito the other day.”

  “Just for the record, there were no shotguns involved.”

  “Good to hear.” Maggie shoved some papers into her bag. “Want to talk about it?”

  “Gracie bolted for the water, and Roman and I got a little wet fishing her out of the lake.”

  “And a little hot and bothered?”

  “No. Well, yes, a little.” Bella picked up a pen from the reception desk and started fiddling with it. “In that same weird way as always. I may not be able to help what happens to me when he’s near—but I can control the outcome, right? I’m an adult. It would be the most foolish thing in the world to get involved with him again. A huge mistake.”

  Maggie’s frown deepened into what Bella referred to as her therapist expression. Which always meant she was going to attempt some of her psychological voodoo on her. “Did you ever talk to him about what happened way back then?”

  “Of course not. No. Nor will I. Who would ever want to bring all that up again?”

  “Because you lied to him, Bella. You told him you didn’t want him. Maybe that’s why part of you hangs on to him. Because of how it ended. His being back here is an opportunity to clear the air that maybe you should take.”

  “I’ve moved on. He’s just still so . . . hot.” The cheap pen she was holding suddenly came apart, a tiny spring bouncing to the ground. She bent down to pick up the pieces. “Anyway, sorry. Didn’t mean to get into all that.”

  “I’ve got to get home. We’ll talk more tomorrow.” Maggie got halfway to the door before she stopped and walked back to the counter, scanning the surfa
ce. “I just wanted to be sure I didn’t leave my wallet. You’re going to make sure the back door’s locked, right? And turn off all the lights except for the waiting room one we always leave on. In fact, I can go turn it—”

  “Maggie, go home,” Bella said, taking her by the elbow and steering her back toward the door. “Unless you want to stay for group. Then we could grab a bite afterward. You know the ladies always bring plenty of dessert—that’ll tide you over.”

  “Thanks, Bella, but I’m not staying for advice from the Divorced, Desperate, or Dead crowd.”

  It was actually the Divorced or Bereaved Senior Support Group, but the ladies themselves tended to refer to themselves as the Three Ds. The topics of discussion they brought up might stir a private chuckle once in a while as they loved to socialize, but underneath that, they’d all survived the death of a spouse or a divorce, sometimes after many years of marriage. “Tell me honestly,” Bella said. “Is there something I can do to help?”

  “I just have to get through this week.” She gave a smile that looked more summoned up than spontaneous. “I’ll be fine.”

  Bella gave her a little hug. “I’m sorry, honey.”

  “Yeah. Sucks, you know?”

  “Are you sure I can’t feed you? Fix you up with a nice new pet from Ethan to keep you company? Or maybe just . . . fix you up with Ethan?”

  Maggie smiled. “Not interested in a pet or a boyfriend. I can barely handle myself and Griffin.”

  “How about someone to fool around with?”

  “You tried that with Ethan and look where that got you. The man is head over heels.”

  “He’s not. He’s just upset about his last breakup, and whenever that happens, he gets these fantasies of us being together.” Maggie didn’t look convinced, but she had the good sense to not say anything. “You know Dr. Maloney would see you if your symptoms are really acting up. Maybe give you something temporary—” Dr. Maloney was the psychiatrist they often consulted for patients who needed to be prescribed meds.