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Chapter Twenty-ThreeLucaIt’s damn good when the plane’s wheels go down and I land in Chicago. The past five days have been incredibly stressful, and I can’t wait to get back to Abby and the kids.
My dad is stable. The doctors expect him to make a full recovery, and I got weak with relief when they told me and my mom. She cried happy but exhausted tears and then finally went to a hotel to get some sleep while I spent my last night in Italy with Dad.
Tonight, I get to sleep in my own bed again. And I get to see for myself how things really went while I was gone.
The kids aren’t saying much when they text me, just that things are fine and they miss me. It’s pretty much the same with Abby, but I wonder if she’s putting on a brave front. This can’t be easy for her.
Thank you hardly seems enough to convey my gratitude to her for jumping in to help like she did. Knowing the kids were safe and well-cared for allowed me to focus on my parents when they needed me.
My SUV is waiting in the parking lot at O’Hare, and I make decent time on the commute home, considering it’s close to rush hour. When I pull into my long driveway, Abby and the kids are sitting on the sidewalk, all coloring with chalk.
My heart tugs at the scene. There are smiles all around. Maybe things went better for Abby than I feared.
I park in the garage and barely get my feet on the ground when the kids mob me.
“Did you bring me a sculpture?” Emerson asks excitedly.
“A sculpture?” I ask. “No, sorry, peanut.”
“Did you bring us pasta?” Jack asks.
“Uh, yeah…” I grin and laugh. “I’ve got some day-old spaghetti in my pocket, you want some?”
“Eww.” He wrinkles his entire face. “Really?”
“No, man.”
I hug them all individually. It’s so good to be back home.
“We talked about things that are Italian,” Abby says from a few feet away. “They were wondering if you might bring back some of those things with you.”
“Ah, I wish.”
My gaze goes to hers, and I search for a sign of her feelings. She doesn’t have bags under her eyes and her arms aren’t crossed the way she does when she’s feeling guarded. Abby looks as relaxed as she did during our weekend in New York.
When I cover the steps separating us and pull her into my arms, she returns the hug, pressing her cheek to my chest.
“Thank you,” I say softly.
“It was good. We had fun.”
Cora whispers not-so-subtly to Jack, “She’s Uncle Luca’s girlfriend.”
Abby looks up at me and smiles as I give her an inquiring look.
“She asked me and…I didn’t know what to say,” she explains.
“I like your answer.” I wink at her and her cheeks turn a hint of pink.
“Uncle Luca, come see!” Emerson grabs my hand and tugs, trying to pull me toward the sidewalk.
She’s beaming as she leads me to the chalk drawing they were all working on. It says, “Welcome home Uncle Luca” in rainbow letters surrounded by stars, rainbows, and I think, hockey sticks.
“I love it, guys. Thanks.”
Jack hugs me again, looking up at me as he says, “Don’t forget my baseball uniform needs to be washed for my game tomorrow.”
“Got it.”
“Can I go play with Adam?”
“Yeah, but you need to come ask me if you want to go anywhere else.”
He races off and the girls come inside with me and Abby. I want to talk to Abby alone, so I ask the girls to sort out the dirty clothes and toiletries in my suitcase and put stuff where it needs to go.
Alone in the kitchen with Abby, I give her a solemn look. “Did you really do okay?”
She nods. “I really did. I’m kind of surprised. Taking care of the kids kept me grounded.”
I exhale with relief. “I’m so glad. I was worried about you.”
Walking over to hug me, she says, “Jack’s uniform is already washed. It’s hanging in the laundry room.”
“You’re an angel. Seriously. This meant the world to me.” I kiss her forehead.
“I was glad to help, Luca.” She looks up at me. “So your dad’s doing better?”
“Yeah, much better. He’s ready to get sprung but they wanted to keep him one more day.”
“Good.”
I nuzzle her neck, her closeness and her sweet, familiar smell making me feel frisky.
“Hey, I brought you something from Italy,” I whisper in her ear.
“Oh, really?” She laughs as my whiskers tickle her tender skin.
“Yeah, it’s in my pants.”
She hums her amusement. “You may have to wait to give me that package, Luca.”
I run my hands down her back to cup her ass. “I don’t know if I can.”
The sound of little footsteps pounding on the front staircase makes us each take a step back.
“All your stuff is put away, Uncle Luca,” Emerson says. “What do you want to do now?”
