“Vito, you didn’t find him, did you? Simon Vartanian.”
His jaw tightened. “No. But we found both the game guys.”
“Alive?”
“One’s alive.”
She drew in a breath. “Simon’s snipping off all his loose ends, isn’t he?”
A muscle twitched in his cheek. “It looks that way.”
“I’m being careful, Vito. You don’t need to distract yourself worrying about me.”
He looked over at her then, his eyes intense, and relief pushed away her panic. “Good. Because I’m getting attached to you, Sophie. I want you to care about what I think, and I want it to be my business to care about how you feel.”
She was unsure of how to respond. “That’s a big step, Vito. Especially for me.”
“I know. That’s why I’m prepared to be patient.” He patted her thigh, then took her hand. “Don’t worry, Sophie. My caring about you isn’t meant to cause you stress.”
She stared at his hand, strong and dark against her skin. “It’s just that I fuck things up sometimes. I really don’t want to fuck this up. Whatever it is that we have.”
“You won’t. For now, just sit back and enjoy the ride.” His lips quirked. “Over the river and through the woods. To Gran’s we go.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why do I get the feeling you’re the big bad wolf?”
He grinned lightly. “Better to eat you with, my dear?”
She smacked him even as she laughed. “Just drive, Vito.”
For the rest of the drive they kept the conversation light, away from Lena, Simon, and any talk of serious relationships. When they got to the nursing home, Vito helped her out of the truck, then reached into the back and pulled out a big shopping bag.
“What’s that?”
He hid the bag behind his back. “It’s my basket of goodies for Grandma.”
Her lips twitched as they walked. “So now I’m the big bad wolf?”
He kept his eyes forward. “You can blow my house down any time.”
She snickered. “You’re bad, Vito Ciccotelli, just bad to the bone.”
He dropped a quick kiss on her mouth as they stood at Anna’s door. “So I’m told.”
Her grandmother was watching them with eagle eyes from her bed, and Sophie suspected that was the reason Vito had chosen the doorway to kiss her. Anna looked good, Sophie decided as she kissed both her cheeks. “Hi, Gran.”
“Sophie.” Anna reached up a feeble hand to touch her cheek. Still, the movement was more than she’d done in a long time. “You brought back your young man.”
Vito sat down next to her bed. “Hello, Anna.” He kissed her cheek. “You’re looking better today. Your cheeks are downright rosy.”
Anna smiled up at him. “You’re a flatterer. I like that.”
He smiled back at her. “I thought you might.” He reached into the bag, pulled out a long-stemmed rose and handed it to her gallantly. “I thought you might like flowers, too.”
Anna’s eyes went shiny and Sophie felt her own eyes sting. “Vito,” she murmured.
Vito glanced over at her. “You could have had some too, but no. It was ‘Stop, Vito’ and ‘You’re so bad, Vito.’” He closed Anna’s hand over the stem. “I had them strip off the thorns. Can you smell it?”
Anna nodded. “I can. It’s been a long time since I’ve smelled roses.”
Sophie kicked herself for not thinking of it herself, but it didn’t appear that Vito was finished. He brought out an entire bouquet of roses just ready to bloom and then a black porcelain vase, which he set carefully on the nightstand next to her bed. Embedded in the porcelain were crystals that shimmered like the stars in the night sky. He arranged the roses and again adjusted the vase on the nightstand.
“Now you can smell them even better,” he said and handed Sophie the plastic pitcher from the nightstand. “Can you get us some water for these flowers, Sophie?”
“Of course.” But she lingered in the doorway, the pitcher in her hands. Vito still wasn’t finished. He took out a small cassette player.
“My grandfather had a record collection,” he said and Anna’s eye widened.
“You brought music?” she whispered and Sophie damned Lena to hell. Then she damned herself for not having thought of music in general before now.
“Not just any music,” Vito said with a smile that made Sophie’s breath catch.
Anna’s mouth opened, then her lips pressed tight. “You have… Orfeo?” she asked, then held her breath like a child who is afraid she’ll be told no.
“I do.” He started the tape, and Sophie instantly recognized the opening strains of Che faro, the aria that had brought Anna fame a lifetime ago. Then Anna’s pure mezzo-soprano soared from the small speaker and Anna released the breath she held, closed her eyes and settled, as if she’d been waiting for just this. Sophie’s throat closed and her chest hurt as she watched her grandmother’s lips begin to move with the words.
Vito hadn’t taken his eyes from her grandmother’s face, and that made Sophie’s chest hurt even more. He hadn’t done this thing to impress her. He’d done this beautiful thing to make an old woman smile.
But Anna wasn’t smiling. Tears were rolling down her cheeks as she tried to draw the breath to sing. But her lungs were fragile and nothing emerged but a pitiful croak.
Sophie took a step back, unable to watch Anna’s futile attempts or the misery that filled her grandmother’s eyes as she gave up. Clutching the plastic pitcher to her chest, Sophie turned away and started walking.
“Sophie?” one of the nurses tried to stop her. “What is it? Does Anna need help?”
Sophie shook her head. “No, just water. I’m getting it.” She made it to the little kitchenette at the end of the hall and, her hands shaking, turned on the water. She filled the pitcher, reining in her emotion as she turned off the water.
And went still. Another voice now soared. But it wasn’t Anna’s smooth mezzo. It was a rich baritone. And it drew her like a lodestone.
Heart pounding, she walked back to Anna’s door, where six nurses stood stock still, hardly breathing. Squeezing through, Sophie stumbled to a halt and could only stare.
It was, she would reflect later, an odd moment to fall in love.
She’d been wrong. Aunt Freya hadn’t gotten the last good man. One sat at her grandmother’s side, singing the words Anna could not with a voice that was both powerful and pure. On his face was gentle tenderness as Anna’s eyes watched every movement of his mouth, drinking in each note with a joy that was almost painful to behold.
But behold Sophie did, and when Vito had sung the last note she stood, her cheeks wet, but her mouth smiling. Behind her went up a collective sigh from the nurses, then they went back to their duties, sniffling.
Vito looked over at her, his brows lifting. “If you filled that pitcher with tears, it’ll kill the roses, Sophie,” he teased. He dipped his head close to Anna’s. “We made her cry.”
“Sophie’s always been a crier. Cried at the cartoons even.” But the words were uttered with unmistakable affection.
“I didn’t know you watched when I cried at cartoons, Gran.”
“I watched you all the time, Sophie.” She patted Sophie’s hand awkwardly. “You were such a pleasure to watch grow up. I like your young man. You should keep him.” One of her brows went up. “Do you understand my meaning?”
Sophie met Vito’s as she answered. “Yes, ma’am. I certainly do.”
Friday, January 19, 8:00
P.M.
Something was different, Vito thought. A closeness. The way Sophie leaned against him as they walked to his truck. And she was smiling at him, which was always a plus.
“If I’d known the singing would trip your trigger I would have sung to you Sunday night. In fact, if it’ll get me lucky, I can sing anything you want.” He opened her door, but she turned in his arms instead of getting in. Her kiss was warm and fluid and left him wishing they weren’t in an icy parking lot.