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“I should send you some every day.”
Mary Ellen frowned. She loved the flowers, but she hated the thought of them being cut for her when they could bloom for months on the tree. “You don’t need to do that.”
“You don’t want more?” He sounded disappointed.
“Don’t get me wrong. I love them, but I’d rather they lived on, on the tree.”
He was quiet for a moment. “Okay, no more to be cut for you. What time are you coming tonight?”
“I don’t know. I probably won’t get done here until six and then I need to go home and get my things. What time will you be home? How’s your day going?”
He sighed. “It’s a busy one, for sure, but I can be home by six-thirty.”
“I’ll tell you what, why don’t you call me when you get home? That way you can stay at work as long as you need to, and I’ll just come over when you’re back.”
He was silent for so long she wondered if they’d been cut off. “No,” he said eventually.
“No?”
He laughed. “I have a better idea. I’ll try to be home before you get there, but don’t wait for me. When you’re ready, just go on over to the house.”
She wasn’t sure what she thought of that.
“There’s a key hanging behind the light by the door. You can let yourself in. Make yourself at home.”
She still didn’t say anything.
“I’d love to think you’d be there when I get home.”
She couldn’t help but smile at that. “I’ll see what time I’m ready. Okay?”
She could hear the smile in his voice. “Okay. Ciao, bella.”
At six-thirty she stood in the middle of her living room and looked at the bag she’d packed. She couldn’t decide what to do. She could pick up the bag and do as Antonio had said—head over to his house and wait for him to get home—or she could wait around here for him to call and say he was back. It wasn’t such a big decision in any practical way. But it wasn’t about the practical. If she went over there by herself and let herself in, and she was there waiting for him when he came home from work, that would be taking their relationship a step further. She sat down on the sofa and sighed. Not going would mean that she wasn’t ready to take that step. She thought back to her conversation with Cam earlier. If she thought it was inevitable that she and Antonio would end up together, what was the point in taking her time? She smiled and got to her feet. If this was going to be a whirlwind ride, she may as well put herself in the center of it. There was no point trying to hold back and take things slowly. She picked up her bag and closed up the apartment. Maybe she’d pick up something to eat on the way over.
~ ~ ~
Antonio grinned when he got home and saw Mary Ellen’s car parked in the driveway. He hadn’t expected her to come. The fact that she had gave him hope that she was ready to move things forward more quickly than he’d thought.
He parked in the garage and ran up the steps that led into the mudroom off the kitchen. His chest buzzed with happiness when he opened the door and she was there at the sink, rinsing dishes. This was what he wanted. This was how he wanted his life to be—to come home from work and find her waiting for him.
She spun around at the sound of the door opening. “Damn, you scared me.”
He went to her and wrapped his arms around her. “No need to be scared, my love. It’s only me.” He planted a kiss on top of her head. “I’m glad you came.”
She smiled up at him. “I am, too. I almost didn’t, but …” she shrugged.
She might not want to say it, but he knew what she meant. She’d made a decision, and it was one he was going to do his best to make sure she wouldn’t regret.
Chapter Sixteen
Antonio was glad it was Friday. Mary Ellen had stayed with him all week—even on Wednesday when she’d gone out for dinner with Chelsea. His week at work had been less enjoyable. He’d spent most of his time putting out fires and fielding calls from customers who were concerned about the Sicilian wines. He’d talked to Marcos a couple of times, but each time, he’d claimed to be busy and that he’d call back. Antonio was starting to get worried. He’d set aside an hour this morning to get hold of him and figure out what was going on.
He picked up his phone and then set it down again. He couldn’t imagine what his brother was going through. He felt bad for him. He needed to remember that when they talked and not just get mad at him about how he was letting things slide with the business. He stared out the window for a few moments, thinking about Marcos. He was more serious than Antonio. More driven—at least until now. He wasn’t used to failing at anything, and although his marriage hadn’t been a happy one, Antonio knew that he was taking the divorce hard.
He blew out a sigh and picked up the phone again. Instead of calling Marcos, he dialed his parents’ number.
“Pronto.”
