The holiday show at the gallery was a huge success, and by the end of the weekend Grace was exhausted. She’d missed one call from Antonio, but this time she had a legitimate excuse. She went to bed early Sunday night, drained from the hectic weekend, and had almost drifted off when the phone rang.
“Hello?” Her voice was barely more than a whisper.
“Were you sleeping?” the voice on the other end asked.
It was Antonio and she was surprised to find herself smiling at the sound of his voice. “No, just unwinding after a busy weekend.”
They talked for an hour, and before they hung up, he asked her to dinner again on Friday night. And she accepted. He called her every night after that, but she didn’t pick up every time. She liked talking to him, but she didn’t want to become dependent on him.
The buzz of the doorbell sent an electric shock through her body. Tonight was the night she was going to tell Antonio the truth about her childhood. Well, at least the broad strokes, not the details. The details were better locked safely inside her trunk, along with the sketches of her would-be mother, and all her other ridiculous childhood fantasies.
But she figured that if she and Antonio were going to be friends, she owed him some background. Still, she couldn’t help wondering how he would take the news. Would he still want to be with someone who had been discarded by her own parents and left to be raised by strangers? Would anyone?
She hoped Valerie was right, and that it would be no big deal to Antonio. And if it was, then better for him to leave now. Before she had any feelings invested.
She pulled the door open and smiled at the familiar face.
Antonio’s face lit up and her own smile widened. Even bundled in a ski parka and a stocking cap, he was almost irresistible. She took a step back and ushered him inside.
“It sure smells good in here,” he said. “I’m guessing we’re not going out?”
“I thought I’d surprise you and make dinner. I hope you don’t mind.” She hung his coat on the rack behind the front door.
She’d never had to cook for herself, but since she moved into her own place, she’d purchased a few cookbooks and practiced on Valerie, who proclaimed that she was an outstanding chef. Grace knew that Valerie was just grateful not to be eating cafeteria food anymore. Tonight she was serving a simple lasagna and salad.
“I suppose that’d be okay,” he said, and she gave him a playful punch on the arm.
She placed the poinsettia he’d brought onto the table, and it made for a beautiful centerpiece, the sole evidence of the impending holiday season. She handed Antonio a corkscrew and pointed to a bottle of Chardonnay she’d just pulled from the fridge.
He opened it and poured them each a glass. He lifted his and offered a toast. “To you,” he said.
“To new friends,” she said, and they clinked glasses.
Over dinner, Antonio told her about his most recent case.
“My client was accused of raping a woman nine years ago. The woman who accused him came forward and confessed that she lied about being raped, but the police refuse to reopen the case. No DNA evidence was ever found. He was convicted on her testimony alone.”
“God, that poor man. What made her decide to come forward after all these years?”
“She decided to get sober, went to rehab, and says she’s working the steps. Needs to confess. She was stunned when the police didn’t believe her. She remembered your article in the Times and came to see us. We’re not having a lot of luck with the police or the courts.”
Grace felt Antonio’s frustration and offered to do a follow-up piece about it. “You never know, media intervention might help. Would the woman who accused him be willing to talk to me?”
“I believe she would. She’s been very helpful in assisting us with the case.”
They talked more about the case, and Antonio said he’d ask the woman whether she’d be willing to be interviewed. After dinner, Grace showed him her art studio.
She had a few completed pieces propped up against the wall, and one still on the easel, in progress. His eyes widened as he scanned the paintings. “These are amazing.”
“Thanks,” she said. “I still have a ways to go before I’m good enough to show, but I have a mentor who’s helping me.”
They moved to the living room and sat down on the sofa, and he poured them each another glass of wine.
“Antonio.” She left her wine on the table and turned to him. “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”
“Sure, what is it?”
Trying to quell the sudden tremor of anxiety tumbling through her, she drew a deep breath and pasted on a smile. “The other night, the last time we went to dinner, you asked about my family. Whether I planned to spend the holidays with them.”
“Yeah, I remember,” he said casually.
See, it’s no big deal, just like Valerie said. Just say it already.
“I don’t actually have any family.”
He flashed a curious expression. “No family at all?”
“No.”
She watched as he took in the words and tried to process them.
“I don’t…I mean, what happened?” Antonio asked.
Suddenly the words she’d rehearsed betrayed her, left her scrambling for something to say. “My parents were killed in a car accident when I was in high school. I lived with an aunt in Peekskill afterward, but she died last year.”
The shock of her own words paralyzed her. Where had they come from? Why hadn’t she just told him the truth? But she knew. The truth—the whole truth—was ugly. And she wasn’t willing to risk losing him. Not yet.
She buried her face in her hands to hide her shame. She didn’t even realize she was crying until he pulled her hands away and drew her into his arms.
“Shhh,” he murmured. “It’s okay. Everything will be okay.”
Everything will be okay.
Her tears froze mid-stream at the words. It would not be okay. But this time it was her own fault.
Antonio gently wiped her tears with the back of his hand. “I’m sorry, Grace. I can’t imagine how difficult that must’ve been. But you’re a survivor. I knew it the first time I met you.”
She looked up sharply, her cheeks still damp with tears. He’d called her a survivor. And she was, she supposed. But why didn’t she feel like one? Right now she felt more like a big fat liar and she was surprised he hadn’t seen right through her lie. But maybe the lie wasn’t so bad. At least not compared to the truth. The truth was worse. But still, he’d seen something in her, something she hoped one day she’d see in herself. “You did?”
His smile was a gentle caress. “Yes, I did. So it’s settled. You’ll spend Christmas with us. But I’ll warn you, my family can be a little loud and obnoxious, and I can’t promise that my Uncle Santino won’t hit on you. But don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”
She couldn’t help but laugh at the description of his family. Her whole life she’d dreamed about being part of just such a family. “I, no, I don’t want to intrude, Antonio.”
“It’s not a pity invitation, honest.” He grinned sheepishly. “It’s just that…holidays are for family, and friends, and I’d love for you to share it with us. And don’t worry, you won’t be the only stray there, I promise.”
They laughed together this time. “A stray, huh? Is that what I am now?”
“If the slipper fits, Cinderella.” His eyes crinkled at the corners.
“Well, how can I say no to that?”
“So, you’ll come?”
“Yes, I’ll come. But I have to be home before midnight.”
Suddenly her lie didn’t seem so bad. She’d tell him the truth one day. As soon as she was sure he wouldn’t leave.