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“Believe it. Chiara’s team has a contact there.”
“Still, I figured I’d hear it from you. I thought the brotherly bond counted for something,” Jordan said in a bemused tone.
“You didn’t need to know it was a publicity stunt.”
His brother shrugged. “It seemed real enough to me. So what are you going to do?”
“For the moment, I’m moving back in with her. What does it look like I’m doing?”
Jordan nodded, his expression blank. “So you’re muscling back into her life. Do you know an approach besides caveman-style?”
“Since when are you a relationship expert?”
“This calls for a grand gesture.”
Rick nearly snorted. “She’s practically announced she doesn’t need a knight on a horse.”
Jordan shrugged. “She doesn’t need you, you don’t need her, but you want each other. Maybe that’s what you have to show her.” His brother’s lips quirked. “You know, upend the fairy tale. Show up on a horse and tell her that she needs to save you.”
Rick frowned. “From what?”
Jordan grinned. “Yourself. You’ve been bad-tempered and cranky.”
“So says the Serenghetti family philosopher who only does shallow relationships.”
Jordan placed his hand over his heart. “My guru powers only work with others.”
Rick threw a towel at his brother, who caught it deftly. “Get packing.”
Still, he had to admit Jordan had given him some ideas.
* * *
“You look like a miserable pregnant lady,” Odele remarked.
“My best role yet.” Chiara felt like a mess...or rather, her life was one. Ironically the situation with her father was the only part she’d straightened out.
After yesterday’s drama, Odele had stayed over, feeling Chiara needed someone in the house with her. And Chiara was thankful for the support. She’d let herself cry just once...
Chiara toyed with her lunch of salmon and fresh fruit. Outside the breakfast nook, the sun shone bright, so unlike yesterday. Her mood should have picked up, too, but instead she’d been worried about spending the next months with Rick in her house—falling apart with need, so unlike her independent self.
“I hate to see you make a mistake,” Odele remarked from across the table.
Was that regret in her manager’s voice? “You sound wistful.”
“I’m speaking from experience. There was one who got away. Don’t let that be your situation.”
“Oh, Odele.”
“Don’t Odele me,” her manager said in her raspy voice. “These days there’s a fifty-three-year-old editor at one of those supermarket rags who is just waiting for a date with yours truly.”
Chiara managed a s
mall laugh. “Now, that’s more like it.”
Odele’s eyes gleamed. “He’s too young for me.”
“At fiftysomething? It’s about time someone snatched him out of the cradle.”
