March (Calendar Girl #3) Page 7

  “Have you been married before?” She placed a hand on her hip, the other still holding the spoon.

  I shook my head, and she mimicked it. “Son, she’s going to have to start coming to our church immediately. In order to get married, she’s going to need to be in good standing with St. Peters, and you will likely have to undergo the longer version of counseling in order for our priest to marry you to a non-Catholic. And, she’ll need to be baptized. Soon. That is paramount. We need to get started immediately.”

  The weight of what she’d said flattened me like a steamroller. I had to get out of there. “Oh my god,” I got up off the chair feeling freaked out. My lungs felt tight, and I could feel a bead of sweat building at my hairline. I couldn’t breathe. Air. I needed air, right now. In a jumble of limbs I rushed to the balcony, flung open the door and sucked in the chilly March Chicago air. Thank God. No, not God. There would be no more talk of God that evening. I’d make sure of it.

  Two strong arms came around me. Even though they were wonderful, they weren’t the arms I wanted. Wes. I wished he was there. He’d get a kick out of this. From escort to mail-order bride. “Mia, it’s okay. Don’t let Ma get to you. We’ll figure this out.” Tony held me from behind. I took in long, slow breaths. The rapid beat of my heart started to go back to normal. When I felt I could stand on my own two feet I turned around and held a hand out to Tony pushing him back.

  “You have got to tell your mother the truth. This is going too far.”

  He hung his head in shame. “I know. I just…it’s so heavy. You know?”

  “Yeah I do.”

  We both sat down in the lounge chairs facing one another. “But I’m not the only one that’s getting slammed here. Hector is not handling this well.”

  Tony’s head shot up and there were worry lines at the corner of his eyes. “What do you mean?”

  I clasped his hands with both of mine and squeezed tight. “By not accepting who you are, you’re not accepting him.” Tony’s eyes narrowed but he kept quiet. “This omission of the truth…I hate to say it Tony, but it needs to be said.” He tipped his chin gesturing me to continue. “Look at it from Hector’s perspective. You’re basically saying that he’s not good enough. That his love is not worth the risk.”

  He gasped and pulled back. “That is not true! I love him.”

  “Really? Then why are you hiding it?”

  “You know why.” Tony’s voice was scathing, his jaw tight.

  “Not good enough. Those are excuses, and after years, what? Close to fifteen years you’ve been using those excuses. It’s time to set yourself free. Make him your priority. The same way he does you. All these years he could have outted you to your family, your friends, your business but he didn’t. He has been content to stay in the background as long as he had you. Your happiness is what’s important to him, but I swear, this plan of yours to fool your family to keep the charade going…it’s killing him. I can see it in his eyes, why can’t you!”

  “Fuck! Why did this have to get so complicated?”

  “It’s life, Tony. Grow up. Choose Hector no matter the cost. That’s what he’s done for you. He put your happiness above his own because he chose you.”

  With that parting shot I left the balcony. Hector and his mother were waiting in the living room when I walked through heading to my room.

  “Mia…” Hector’s voice shook when he said my name, but I kept walking. Then I realized that in my anger I was being rude. To my clients, to Mona, to the people I’d come to care a great deal for.

  I stopped before the hall and turned around. “I’m sorry. Suddenly I’m not feeling well. I’m going to bed for the night. Thank you Mona for coming. I’m sure your dinner would have been great.”

  Hector came over to me and stopped my progression down the hall. He pulled me into a hug and tears filled my eyes. “I’m sorry. We’re sorry. Both of us.” Hector spoke so quietly only I could hear. Jesus, this man was incredible.

  “I know. I just need some space after tonight.”

  He let me go, and I went back to my room. I laid down on the bed, grabbed my phone and dialed the one person I shouldn’t. It rang four times before the answering machine picked up.

  “You’ve got Wes, leave a message after the beep and I’ll get back to you soon as possible.” Wes’s voice was a strong rumble that came through the phone and powered straight into my heart.

  **Beep**

  “Hey, it’s me, uh, Mia. I just…” I took a long breath and tried to think of what I wanted to say but came up with nothing that sounded less than desperate. “I needed to hear your voice.” I closed my eyes. “We’ll talk soon. Okay? Bye.”

  CHAPTER 8

  For the next week, things were strained between the trio we’d become. I was an outsider, and for the first time in three weeks, I felt like one. Tony was stressed, barely grunting hello’s and goodbyes in the mornings. Hector was nicer, softer, still stressed, though it wasn’t directed at me. Clearly, he was having issues with Tony and was reluctant to talk to me about them, which was understandable. I’d thrown a tizzy fit when dealing with the mother last weekend. I wasn’t proud of my actions but still held fast to the fact that it needed to be said. The continued dance around this issue was ravaging the relationship and torturing both parties. Not to mention the strain of lying to one’s family had to be hitting their consciences hard.

  Then there was me, the chick stuck in the middle.

  I stood in a bra and panties in front of the closet trying to decide what to wear. The March air in Chicago was chilly but mostly comfortable.

  “Hey, get your hot pants on and your leather jacket,” Hector said from the open doorway. I was so lost in my own thoughts that I didn’t even hear him open the door. He entered and sat on the bed while I grabbed a pair of dark skinny jeans. He stood, pulled down a thin green sweater and a kick ass dark chocolate leather jacket. I went about putting on the clothes he chose for me while staying silent. When Hector wanted to talk, he did so in private, and usually encroached upon a person’s personal space. I pulled up the jeans then he handed me the sweater, and I slipped it on.

  “I know he loves me,” he said while reaching into the closet to pull out a pair of knee high boots with killer straps of leather that had a crisscross pattern up the length. They were buttery soft and probably cost more than the car I bought for my sister Maddy. Instead of responding, I just sat on the bed quietly. Hector knelt down, lifted my foot and helped me slide into the boot. “It’s just that he’s so afraid of disappointing his mother. Before, it was his father I thought he was afraid to tell. Joseph Fasano was a man’s man. Straight-up Italian and very old-fashioned. When he passed last year I thought maybe…just maybe he’d tell them. Mona loves me. Treats me like her own son.” He looked up and there were tears in his kind, brown eyes.

  I leaned forward and cupped both cheeks. “Yes she does.”

  “So I thought…” he shook his head. “It was too much to hope for. And now, I don’t know. With you here, with all the talk of marriage and babies it just makes me wish for more. You know? The life that we should have had all these years.”

  A tear of my own slipped down my cheek. He brushed it away with his thumb. “Oh sweet Mia, none of this is your fault.”

  “Isn’t it? I’m the one who’s here.”

  “Because we brought you here.” He frowned.

  “True. You’re right. This is so not my fault.” I smirked and Hector laughed lightly breaking up the tension.

  “Come, Tony and I are taking you out on a date. We have something to show you.” Hector reached into the closet and pulled out a bright green scarf. So bright I’d never willingly wear it.

  “What’s with all the green?”

  Hector’s eyes widened and he gasped. “Mia, its St. Patrick’s Day. The entire city celebrates St. Paddy’s in a big way, and we are too! It’s our favorite holiday. No sadness, no worries, nothing but fun, friendship, and love today. You in?”

 
A huge sense of relief filled my lungs, chest, and heart. “I’m so in!”

  “Come on, señorita, let’s go!”

  ***

  A swift gust of wind blew my hair behind me as we exited the car. “Holy smokes it is windy!” I said to the two guys as each took one of my elbows.

  “That’s why they call it the windy city. Don’t worry; wait a half hour and the weather will change.” I looked up at Tony giving him the you’re-blowing-smoke-up-my-ass look. “Seriously, it’s a phenomenon. Lived here all my life. Never had a day where the weather stayed exactly the same.”

  “You should move to California. The weather is perfect every day there.” I grinned and he shook his head.

  “Oh, I see a spot at the railing over there.” Hector pointed across a large patch of grass over to where a metal railing was in the distance. A crowd of people were hoarded all down the line of railing overseeing a large body of water.

  We headed over and stopped at the rail. “Where are we?” I asked looking into the waves. The water was choppy and splashing up against the sides of the concrete below. We were at least a good ten feet or so from the actual water but you could still feel the shift in temperature the closer we were to the water.

  “Chicago River,” Tony said with pride, his chest puffing out. I looked at Hector, and he rolled his eyes.

  “Don’t look at me. This is Tony’s thing. I’m originally from San Diego.” With a gloved hand, he pointed up and down his body.

  I shoved his shoulder. “I didn’t know you were from California.”

  He tilted his head and looked out at the water. “Yeah, went away for college, met Tony at Columbia then moved here with him after graduation.”

  “Columbia? Wow.” I knew these guys were smart but had no idea they were Ivy League smart. Me, I was a college dropout. However, I was currently making a hundred thousand a month. Not too shabby for a former casino waitress from Vegas.

  Tony moved around and got in between both of us then put an arm around our shoulders. “It’s gonna happen right now. Mia, look at that boat!” His voice was tinged with excitement. It was the happiest I’d seen Tony all week. He had a beautiful smile and I missed it. His big arms hugged Hector and me close. Out of nowhere, Tony looked over his shoulder, scanned the area and then said, “What the hell!” He turned to me and kissed me very briefly on the lips, the way a brother would his sister. Then he turned to Hector and laid a big, fat, lusty kiss on him. It went on for a long time. So long even I was blushing when it ended.

  Hector’s eyes were the size of baby cats. “Happy St. Paddy’s, Papi,” Tony said and kissed him lightly on the mouth again. Hector’s corresponding smile revealed shock, awe, and love.

  Joy. Pure joy. Hector’s, mine, and Tony’s filled our little huddle as a boat shot down the Chicago River spraying green stuff into the water.

  “What the hell is he doing polluting the water with that gunk?” I pointed, horrified at the display before us. .

  Tony shook his head. “They are dyeing the river green!” He was practically bouncing out of his shoes. “It’s tradition and non-toxic.” I narrowed my eyes and waited for him to continue. “As part of a more than fifty-year tradition, the Chicago River is dyed green in observance of St. Patrick’s Day. It will take days to dissipate. They use vegetable dye that won’t hurt the fish or pollute the water. It’s even sponsored by the local Plumbers Union.”

  I had to admit, it was really cool. The boat sprayed the concoction all along the river jetting back and forth down the stretch of space. Bright fluorescent green swirls comingled with the waves and spread the color out. Reminded me of Van Gogh’s Starry Night the way the green made spirals in the water. I’d never seen anything like it. A city actually dyed a body of water green for a holiday, one that wasn’t even a national holiday.

  I shook my head repeatedly not able to comprehend how unique and utterly random the sight was. “What’s the deal with St. Patrick’s Day anyway?”

  Tony pulled us both close, eyes glued to the water while he spoke. “It’s a celebration of the bringing of Christianity to Ireland. For this day, the Catholic Church lifts the ban on alcohol and fasting for Lent to celebrate.”

  For a moment, I thought hard about what he’d said. “Are you Irish?” I looked up at Hector and he shook his head grinning. I turned and focused on Tony.

  “Nope,” Tony responded.

  “Then what’s the big deal?” The importance of this event made absolutely no sense.

  Tony pointed out to the water as if he was Vanna White. “An entire river was painted green in observance of a Saint from my faith. Anything related to the church is a big deal,” he said deadpan. A tiny quirk curved the edge of his lips. I could feel the grip of his fingers around my bicep as he tried to hold back what was most certainly laughter.

  “You just like to party. Admit it!” I jabbed him in the ribs with my elbow.

  “Ouch!” He laughed out loud and Hector joined in. “Come on Mia, we’ve got a pub with our name on it.”

  My eyes widened as the cool air flapped my hair into Hector’s face. “Sorry.” He winked and continued forward. “You guys own a pub, too?”

  Tony chuckled. “Have you always been so literal?”

  “Not especially, but I don’t usually hang out with rich dudes. I figure anything is possible when you guys are playing with your monopoly money.”

  “Come on, it’s time to make friends with an Irish lad named Jamison.” Tony’s large form helped deflect the wind that was pummeling me.

  “You know, that Jamison, he’s an old friend of mine. It will be nice to get reacquainted,” I grinned.

  “Now you’re talking!” Tony beamed and led us to the car.

  ***

  The guys brought me to a place called Declan’s Irish Pub. We entered through a huge red door with black wooden trim. The sign outside was black with the words “Declan’s” in gold cursive script. It was dark inside. A humming noise could be heard all around as we navigated through the patrons and found our way up to the bar. Three seats right up front were empty. A shot glass with a paper napkin on top that had the word “Reserved” written in black sharpie sat in front of the empty seats. Tony held out my stool and I sat down.

  “Reserved seats at a bar?” I laughed shaking my head.

  “Every year, chica.” Hector said.

  “I know a guy,” Tony said in that thick Chicago Italian drawl I’ve gotten used to over the past three weeks.

  “You think you know a guy you fucking dago!” The bartender held out his hand. Tony leaned over the wooden bar and brought the ginger-haired man to his chest for a man hug. “Dec, how the hell are you, you fucking mick!” Tony spat out his own derogatory remark. For women, those would be fighting words. The red-head just took it in stride.

  “Eh, business is good.” He held his arms out gesturing to the full bar.

  “It’s St. Paddy’s ya jagoff. Of course it’s going to be packed.” Tony continued to mess with the man who he’d called Dec.

  “Who’s the Stella? I know she isn’t yours.” The man’s green eyes went to Hector’s knowingly. Hector put out a hand and shook Dec’s hand.

  “This here is Mia. She’s a friend from out of town and we’re showing her around.”

  “And of course you had to bring her to my pub, because it has the best food and whiskey in Chicagoland.”

  “Fuckin’ A,” Tony responded, his accent thick as wool.

  “Well Mia, it’s a pleasure. I’m Dec, or Declan.” He held out his hand, I placed mine in his, but instead of shaking it he brought it to his mouth and kissed my knuckles. A little flurry of excitement tingled from my hand through my arm and over my body. His green eyes dazzled as he waggled his eyebrows.

  Tony knocked my hand out of his. “Knock it off asshole. Now where’s our drinks? And some menus.”

  Dec laughed, threw a bar towel over his shoulder and slid us three menus. Then he promptly poured us each a shot of Jamison Irish Whiskey and
one for himself.

  We all held out our shots, clinked glasses as Dec said, “Bottoms up!”

  My phone pinged in my back pocket at the same time I slammed the shot glass back down on the table.

  From: Wes Channing

  To: Mia Saunders

  Happy St. Patrick’s Day. You know what they say about green eyes?

  Hector’s eyebrow rose toward his hairline when he saw the smile on my face. I held the phone close to my chest and read the message. Hector blatantly read over my shoulder, so I gave up and put it in front of both of us as I typed back.

  From: Mia Saunders

  To: Wes Channing

  No, I don’t. What do they say?

  Instantly he responded.

  From: Wes Channing

  To: Mia Saunders

  Where are you?

  From: Mia Saunders

  To: Wes Channing

  An Irish Pub in Downtown Chicago called Declan’s. Are you going to tell me what they say about green eyed girls?

  From: Wes Channing

  To: Mia Saunders

  They’re always up to something. Are you up to something?

  From: Mia Saunders

  To: Wes Channing

  As a matter of fact, yes. Getting my drink on. Happy St. Paddy’s Day!

  I waited a few minutes but no response came. Strange. He must have been called away. Hector and I shared a glance then he shrugged, lifted up a hand and pointed at the two empty shot glasses. Declan promptly filled our glasses. “Want a beer, too?” he asked.

  “Hell yes!” I slugged back the whiskey and breathed fire. The burn was nothing to the thoughts that were spinning around and around about Wes. Thinking of him too much and too often was foolish, and I was no fool. “And more shots!”

  For the next hour, Hector and Tony told me stories of their youth, how they met Declan at Columbia and crazy enough, they all ended up in Chicago. Been friends ever since. Stood to reason why Declan surreptitiously insinuated he knew of their true relationship. He must be one of the few. Turned out he was also one of the guys that did the naked run across the football field.