Authors: Shira Anthony
“Not even the correct
continent
.” David went back to kissing him.
“What was he calling about?” Anything to keep David focused on his neck.
“The party in Connecticut is off. They’re also postponing the civil ceremony in New York for now.”
Alex shot up off the couch. “What? But we’ve been planning the reception for six months now! It’s only two weeks away. What the hell happened? Are they okay? I mean…. Shit. You know what I mean.”
David smiled—a strange expression for someone who’d just learned that he’d wasted four months arranging the party to celebrate Aiden and Sam’s wedding. Caterers, musicians, guests, and a dozen different schedules to coordinate.
“Okay. Fess up. Why are you smiling?”
“Aiden and Sam are fine. They’re just postponing it.” David appeared entirely calm. Too calm. Happy, even?
“Postponing? They’ve been doing that for two years now.”
“Three.”
“Fine. Three years. So why are you happy about it?” Alex pressed. Of course, David was yanking his chain, but he liked that. Anyone who thought David Somers didn’t have a sense of humor simply didn’t know him.
“I’m happy,” David said as his eyes brightened, “because there’s a good reason for it. In fact, there’s a wonderful reason for it.”
Alex laughed. “What reason would that be?”
“
Who
might be the more appropriate way of say—”
“David,” Alex warned.
“Graziella Michaela Redding.”
“Graziella? You mean….”
“Mother and child are doing quite well, I’m told.” David grinned outright this time.
“Cary and Antonio’s baby?”
“Born last night. Almost five pounds. Three weeks early but doing well.” David stood up and wrapped his arms around Alex’s waist. “A good reason to postpone a wedding, don’t you think?”
“The best.” Alex kissed David. “Should we plan a visit in a few weeks?”
“A few weeks?” David’s sly grin made Alex chuckle. “Just because we can’t have the party to celebrate doesn’t mean we can’t take advantage of the opening in everyone’s schedules.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“Thanksgiving in Milan. It’s been years since we’ve been able to get everyone together.”
“The villa?” David’s Italian villa was certainly large enough. “But—
”
“Is that a problem for you? Last I looked at your schedule, your next performance is in Buenos Aires in three weeks.” David nipped at Alex’s earlobe.
“No… it’s not… ah…. Shit, David, I can’t think straight when you do that!” Alex shivered and closed his eyes. “And no. No problem for me. But didn’t you give the staff at the villa the entire month off?”
Alex knew David had completely forgotten about that particular detail. He frowned, then said blithely, “We’ll just have to do it ourselves. Jules and I can handle the cooking. You and Jason can get the place opened up. Rachel can help you with the rooms.”
“You’re serious about this?”
“Am I ever not?” David pulled at Alex’s earlobe with his teeth. “I’ll call the travel agent and look into rebooking all the air travel.”
“Travel agent?”
Another kiss, a nip, and then: “The travel agent. Too complicated to handle that much rebooking online and you needn’t trouble yourself with that. Just call Jules and Jason and let them know we’ll meet them in Milan on Saturday. I’ll text them the flight information as soon as I have it.”
“Ah…. Okay. Sure. Jules and Jason.” Alex could handle that. He’d been meaning to call Jules to see how the Blue Notes album was coming along anyhow. He’d joined Jules and the other members of the trio on several of the tracks when he’d been in Paris three weeks before.
“Good.” David brushed his lips against Alex’s. “And one more thing.”
“Hmm?”
Focus, Bishop, focus!
“This.” David pushed Alex onto the couch and began to unbutton his shirt. “First things first. Always.”
T
HREE
DAYS
later, Alex and David stood on the front steps of the villa, suitcases in hand. Waiting. “Why are we standing here?” Alex asked after a few moments passed and David said nothing.
“I seem to have forgotten my key.”
“You’re joking.” Of course David was joking. This was David, after all. Always prepared, always—
“I’m not joking.”
“You really don’t have the key?” Alex had only seen David make a few mistakes since they’d been together. David clearly had no idea what to do. The irony that he’d planned the entire get-together at the last minute but had forgotten something as important as a key was hardly lost on Alex.
David rubbed his chin, then turned to Alex. “I’ve never had to unlock the door.”
Of course! David’s housekeeper had always done it for him. Alex chuckled.
“I fail to see the humor in this.”
“Oh, it’s very funny.” Alex shook his head, then kissed David. “But someone around here must have a key, right?”
“Normally, yes. But Gianetta is with her family in Verona, and the caretaker is in France visiting his relatives and won’t be back until the first of December.”
“Then we’ll just have to get creative, won’t we?” Alex set the small bag he’d been carrying down on the stone path and turned to survey the grounds. From where they stood, he could see the dirt road that led through the rows of grape vines. At the edge of the vineyard was a small building made from the same stone as the main house. He headed over to the building and David followed behind.
“What are you thinking?” David asked as they reached the door. Unlike the main house, this building had no lock.
“I’m thinking,” Alex said as he opened the door, “that we need some tools.”
The shed, while dark, was surprisingly neat. Tools covered the walls, very few of which Alex recognized. Not that he had much experience with tools, but many looked like antiques. The vines that stretched down the hill from the main house were a working vineyard—no doubt some of the tools were for tending the vines. Alex nearly tripped over a box as he reached what he’d been hoping to find: a folding ladder.
“Help me get this outside?” he asked David, who eyed him warily before picking up one end.
“What do you have in mind?”
“The windows on the upper floor of the house don’t lock, do they?”
David frowned. “You can’t intend to climb up there. If you fall—”
“I’ve climbed much higher in my day.” Alex nodded to a spot under one of the side windows. “Before I met your sister, I broke in to a few warehouses.” He’d been nearly sixteen and running from the foster-care group home where he’d been living when Rachel had quite literally saved his life. She, too, had been living on the streets when she’d found him passed out in the middle of a blizzard. They’d lived together until he’d left for college three years later, and he still thought of her as his sister.
“Broke in to?”
Alex laughed. “Not to steal anything. There wasn’t anything in them to steal even if I’d wanted to. I just needed a place to sleep. The top floors were warmer and most of the offices weren’t locked.”
“I see.” David looked extremely uncomfortable. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have anything to apologize for, David.” Alex offered him a reassuring smile. He wouldn’t have said it, but knowing what he did about David’s upbringing, he figured he’d had the better deal as a kid.
Alex opened the ladder and put his weight on the first step. It was old but sturdy. “Spot me, okay?” he asked.
“All right.” David appeared unconvinced. “Just be careful. The closest hospital is a good hour from here.”
“No problem.” Alex climbed up the ladder. The second-to-last step put him just shy of reaching the window frame. Not close enough.
“I really don’t think this is a good—”
Alex climbed one more step, wobbled a bit, then reached out for the windowsill. He pushed on the wood with the heel of his hand. It didn’t budge.
“Alex,” David said, sounding genuinely worried now, “I don’t think this is a good idea. Surely there must be some other way inside.”
“Don’t worry. I can do this.” Alex hit the window harder this time, and the two sides swung inward. Unfortunately, he used a bit more force than he’d intended. The ladder shook, and Alex teetered on the platform. He struggled to regain his balance, but the smooth leather soles of his dress shoes slid against the wood.
Shit.
He reached for the windowsill and scrabbled for purchase on one of the rough stones of the ancient façade that stuck out a few inches, right under the sill. His feet found an indentation where the grout had deteriorated a bit. He prayed the stones were in better shape than the mortar, since he figured it was at least twenty feet down to the stone patio. There was nothing to break his fall. He needed to get a grip on the sill to steady himself.
“Alex!” David shouted from below. His voice shook with concern.
The narrow perch did not crumble. Alex used the stones to push himself upward and tried to latch on to the sill with his free hand. Again, his shoes slipped and he missed the wood. One of his shoes fell onto the flagstones below and made a tapping sound as it hit.
By now, the muscles in his right arm were protesting and his fingers were numb. Pain lanced from his forearm to his shoulder, sharp and deep. He couldn’t hold on much longer—even having his toes freed to shore up his foothold wasn’t enough to support him. He reached for the window frame with his other hand and began to haul himself up.
He ignored the splinters that dug into his hands and arms as he took a deep breath and swung first one leg over the sill, then the other. He landed unceremoniously on the floor of one of the guest bedrooms. For a moment he just sat there, trying to catch his breath. His heart pounded against his ribs. Sweat dripped into his eyes and stung. He wiped his face with the back of his hand.
David.
He needed to let David know he was fine. It took him a full minute to get to his feet. His legs ached and his only thought as he flexed the muscles in his hands was to be thankful he hadn’t broken anything. He wobbled over to the window. “I’m okay,” he said as he peered outside a moment later.
David looked up at him, stone-faced. Alex knew that look. It was the look David reserved for temperamental artists in the middle of a meltdown or taxi drivers who tried to gouge him. Alex had never been on the receiving end of David’s “icy stare of doom,” as Rachel liked to put it.
Two minutes later he unbolted the front door and met David outside. “Sorry about that,” he said, hoping to head off the lecture he was pretty sure was on the tip of David’s tongue.
For a moment David just stared at him. Then, without warning, David grabbed him around the shoulders and pulled him tight against his body. When David spoke, his voice was barely a whisper. “Please don’t ever do that to me again. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you.”
Alex returned the embrace and sighed. “I won’t,” he said. “I promise.”
The present
“Y
OUR
TURN
,”
Antonio said with a wink in Cary’s direction after he’d finished speaking.
What else could Cary add to Antonio’s thanks for a healthy baby and a wonderful family? He chewed his lower lip as Antonio nodded his encouragement. “Does ‘ditto’ work here?” he finally managed to ask.
“Don’t think so, man,” Aiden put in with a laugh.
Cary relaxed a bit. “Okay.” He took a deep breath, then continued, “I’m thankful for so many things. My family, my friends. A healthy baby. Antonio. Massi. But those are all easy. I’m thankful for them every day. I’m damn lucky.” He grinned at Antonio, who took his hand and squeezed it.
“But I guess this is about more than everyday things. Some things you don’t realize you should be thankful for until you really think about them. And sometimes they’re the most important. The little things. Things you take for granted. Things I didn’t know I knew.” Cary looked at Massi and added, “Things people can teach me.”
Two weeks before
“S
HE
WANTS
her papà,” Antonio said as he handed Graziella to Cary the day she was born.
His baby. Flesh and blood. Graziella Michaela Redding. He’d told Francesca they didn’t need to use his last name, but she, Marissa, and Antonio had all agreed. “Without you,” Francesca had told him after the ultrasound when he’d seen his daughter for the first time, “she wouldn’t be here.”
He knew Francesca meant that in more than just the technical sense. Ever since Massimo was born, Francesca had tried to convince Antonio they should have a second child together, but Antonio hadn’t felt ready.
“So will you be the papà this time?” Massimo’s question of two years before echoed in Cary’s mind as he held his newborn daughter. Massimo had been seven years old then, when he’d told Cary he wanted a brother or sister. Cary had never really thought of himself as a father. When he’d first moved in with Antonio and Massimo, he’d been the boyfriend, the partner who’d become part of an existing family. Now, he thought of Massimo as his son, as much his child as the baby who shared his DNA.
He and Antonio had decided on the name Graziella together with Marissa and Francesca. Massi had suggested it. That the name was the equivalent of “Grace” in English hadn’t been lost on Cary. So much of what it had taken for him to get to this place in his life had been just that.
Antonio put his arm around Cary’s shoulder. “Relax. See,” he said as Graziella made a funny slurping noise, “she likes you already.” Then he leaned over and kissed Cary’s cheek. “She looks like you with all that dark hair.”
“I didn’t know they came that way,” Cary replied. “With hair, I mean.”
Antonio chuckled. “Massimo had these tiny curls stuck to his head. Francesca used to joke that someone had painted them on.” He leaned over and pulled the blanket back a bit to reveal thick tufts of black that stuck up all over Graziella’s head.