Sienna
Declan places a hand at my lower back, and we walk to a table. I hear Giovanni’s warning of last night. That I don’t know what his brother is capable of. But when I look at Declan, it’s not danger I sense. Actually, it’s a similar sadness to what I see in Giovanni.
They’re more alike than Giovanni realizes.
“Declan, can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“When you said Giovanni was changing things, did you mean you and James won’t be able to live at the house anymore?”
He nods and I see the worry in his eyes when his gaze shifts momentarily to his son.
“Does he know you want to stay? He won’t kick you out. Why would he?”
“You don’t understand our past, Sienna.”
“When he goes back to Las Vegas-”
“Do you think he’ll go back?” Declan asks it like it’s a question, but I think he’s trying to tell me Giovanni will be staying.
I look at him. I just assumed…
“This is home to him. To all of us. Being a Highlander, you’re tied to this land. This wild, unforgiving country. No place is home but Scotland no matter how long you’re away.”
“This is my home now.”
I remember when Giovanni said that a while back about Las Vegas and even then, I didn’t believe it for a second. Maybe Declan’s right.
“All right now, James,” Mary says, and we look up to see the two of them return with three giant hunks of cake, setting one in front of each of us.
“Can you eat all that?” I ask James.
He nods, enthusiastically digging in.
Declan breaks off a piece with his fork. “You’ll understand why when you taste it.”
I smile and am about to take a bite of my own slice when I hear the door open and feel the cool wind it blows in.
Declan’s expression changes immediately and my back suddenly goes rigid.
I hear Mary’s surprised gasp and I don’t have to turn to know who it is.
I feel him. I always feel him.
“Uncle Giovanni! You came!” James yells happily, oblivious to the tension.
I look up to find Giovanni towering over us, eyes locked on Declan who sits back, puts the bite of cake into his own mouth and gives him a mocking grin.
“Welcome, brother,” he says around the food.
Giovanni turns to me and I think I’d wither if it wasn’t for James’ excitement.
“Uncle Giovanni, you should try this cake. It’s the best ever, I mean it. You can try a bite of my dad’s.”
Giovanni walks around me to take the seat next to mine and looks at his nephew.
“Nice glasses, James,” he says. “You look very handsome.”
“Thank you,” James says proudly.
“And I’d rather try a bite of yours,” Giovanni says.
James hugs his cake closer.
I see Giovanni’s smile.
“Double espresso,” he tells Mary when she comes to the table.
She studies him with raised eyebrows. “Well, hello to you, Giovanni.”
Giovanni looks up at the woman, maybe surprised by her reprimand.
“Hello, Mary. Good to see you,” he says.
“Same.” She smiles. “How about a plain-old coffee, Mr. Fancy with your espresso,” she makes a face as she says the last word and even Giovanni has to smile.
“Coffee’s fine, Mary. Thank you.”
She lingers. “You’ve grown, Giovanni. Changed.”
“Thirteen years will do that to you.”
She nods. “Well, it’s good to see you’ve returned home.” She pats his back. “I’ll get you a slice of cake with your coffee. I remember you used to love it.”
“All right. Thank you.”
She looks between the brothers and walks away.
Giovanni takes us in. “Cozy.”
Declan smiles and puts another bite of cake into his mouth.
Giovanni turns to me, wraps a possessive hand around the back of my neck. “You and I will have a talk when we’re home.”
I feel Declan’s eyes on me. Feel my face heat up.
Before I need to respond, though, Mary returns with Giovanni’s coffee and cake.
“James, go get us some whipped cream,” Declan says, never taking his eyes off his brother.
“Really?” James bounces excitedly out of his seat in an instant.
“I figure you have something to say,” Declan tells Giovanni as soon as James is out of earshot.
Giovanni leans toward him. “You’re not stealing from me again. I’ll kill you before I let that happen.”
Declan leans forward and all I can think is how flimsy the table between them is.
“That’s twice you’ve told me you’ll kill me. Do I look worried to you?”
“Where’s the boy’s mother?” Giovanni asks. “Ran for the hills when she got to know you?”
Declan’s eyes darken. He sits back in his chair and puts his fork down. “Sarah passed away two years ago. Doctors found the tumor days after James’ birth.”
I cover my mouth in surprise and glance to Giovanni to see he’s shaken too.
“Not what you expected?” Declan asks.
Giovanni looks down at his plate, rubs his forehead.
“Fuck.” He looks up at Declan. “That was-”
“Cold?” Declan inserts. “Unfeeling? Cruel?”
Giovanni takes a deep breath in, nods. “All of those and more. I’m sorry for your loss. And for what I said.”
Declan nods too, any accusation vanished, only weight left behind, the weight of a heavy loss. “So am I,” he says.
James returns with Mary behind him holding on to the bowl of whipped cream.
“It’s even better with cream,” he says.
“I bet,” Giovanni says, looking at James, really looking at him and giving him a smile. He heaps a generous spoonful onto James’ cake, then mine, then his own.
Declan pushes his plate forward and Giovanni scoops some on his too. We sit there eating cake and drinking tea and coffee in awkward silence but for James interjecting his thoughts on this, that and pretty much everything.
When we’re finished, Declan and James stand. “You’ll want to take Sienna home I assume?”
Giovanni nods.
With a quick goodbye, Giovanni and I are alone, and he turns to me.
“You’re a jerk to him, you know that?” I say.
“You don’t know anything about us.”
“I know a little now. And if you’re planning on kicking them out of their house-”
“It’s not their house. It’s my house.”
I shake my head. “If you’re planning on kicking them out, then you were right last night.”
“Right about what?”
“That you’re not a good man.”
Giovanni’s face tightens. “Did my brother put you up to this?”
“No, he didn’t put me up to anything. He just lost both parents and he’s a widowed father worried about his son.”
Giovanni stabs his cake with his fork, breaks it apart, and when he turns to me, I see that weight of sadness in his eyes too.
“Just think about it,” I say. “There’s James to consider.”
“I thought it’d be easier,” Giovanni says, looking beyond me.
I reach up, touch his face. I want to tell him I understand. I want to tell him to keep talking, but then he looks down at the sleeve of my borrowed jacket and his eyes narrow dangerously.
“You have his scent on you,” he says, his voice hard.
“He lent me his jacket. I didn’t have one.”
“I’m sure he did. He’s marking territory.
“No, he’s not. He’s just being nice.”
He chuckles. “Oh, Sienna, you are so naive.” He stands, pulls my chair out. “Take it off,” he orders.
I get to my feet and before I can protest, he takes it off me himself. I try not to look at the other patrons in the restaurant. Try to pretend they’re not watching.
He puts his own jacket over my shoulders before taking my arm and walking me out, carrying my shopping bag and Declan’s coat, refusing to put it on even in the rain that’s falling once again.