The more I thought about it, the more certain I was that it was right. I knew him, and he knew me. He was part of my history, and I was part of his. We had a lot to learn about each other, still, but I knew at the core of his being was devotion to family, a sense of duty, and a huge heart. I had no doubt he had a vast capacity to love someone, and I wanted to be her.
I have to be her.
Staring at the kitchen door, I wondered how insane his family would think it if I just got up, walked through it, and announced to Joey I was in love with him. It wasn’t ideal, but if I had to sit here one minute longer, I was going to go mad.
I stood up.
“Tiny? Can I get you something?” Marie asked.
“Uh, would you excuse me for a moment?”
She smiled and pointed toward the hallway off the dining room. “The bathroom is just down the hall there.”
“Thanks.”
With a longing look at the swinging door to the kitchen, I went through the dining room and down the hall to the bathroom. Once inside, I shut the door and stared in the mirror over the sink, arguing with myself.
Coward! Just go in there and tell him! He probably thinks you’re here to berate him for his choices again.
I know, but I’m scared! And his family is here…
Figure it out. You’re not leaving until he knows how you feel. If he rejects you, so be it, but you’re going to tell him. Tonight. Now.
I racked my brain for another minute trying to think up a plan. Then it hit me—a note, I could bring him a note, or ask Marie to take one to him. It wasn’t as good as face to face, but it was something. My heart tripped excitedly as I dug through my purse for paper and pencil, but I came up with nothing. Shit! What could I use?
I had a lipstick and a handkerchief. It would have to do.
Kneeling on the floor, I spread out the white square and clicked the red color up the tube. Biting my lip, I printed carefully. There was no room for error—I only had the one handkerchief. The words would not have the same effect on toilet paper.
I love you.
Should I add an apology? Ask for forgiveness?
No, something told me to just go with one simple message. Joey was intuitive where I was concerned. He would know from those words what I was asking for.
Standing, I clicked the lipstick back down, capped it, and tucked it into my purse again. I folded the note, careful not to smudge my letters.
Deep breath. Now to deliver it.
Be brave, be brave, be brave, I told myself as I walked down the hall into the dining room. Instead of returning to my chair in the front room, I squared my shoulders and pushed open the swinging door to the kitchen.
Chapter Twelve
“Tiny!” Joey’s oldest sister Joanna greeted me with surprise. She stood at the center table putting together a huge tray of meats, cheeses, vegetables and olives. “What are you doing in here?”
Joey, who was stirring something in a pot on the stove, spun around and stared at me.
I stared back, unable to speak. He was just so handsome—my stomach whooshed at the sight of him only five feet away from me. God, I’d rolled around with him on the floor last night and then let him leave?
“Are you staying for dinner?” Joanna asked. “Joey’s making arancine one last time before he abandons his family again for Chicago.”
She was teasing, but Joey glared at her over his shoulder before turning back to the stove. Either he was really angry or he just didn’t know what to say to me.
“I heard,” I said, growing bolder. “In fact, Joey promised me a cooking lesson before he left town, and I’m here to see that he makes good on it.”
Joey’s body stilled and Joanna laughed heartily. “Wonderful,” she said. “I keep telling him he should stay on here and run this place. He’s got the knack for it, and it needs someone like him to give it some new life.”
“I’ve got other plans.” Joey’s voice was firm, and he spoke without turning around. “And today’s not the best day for a lesson.”