Had she not seen what I’d dealt with so far?
“Reason to rejoice, I guess.”
Nudging me as she started the coffee machine, she said, “She’s worth it. Addy’s always been the moon in the sky for our family, whereas her brother’s the stars, and her sister’s the sun. All of them are vital for us to survive, all of them bring extra beauty to the world, but Adrienne hides her beauty most of the time, coming out in quarters, halves… small segments of her whole self until she’s ready for one big moment.
“Without her, the sun wouldn’t rise, the tides wouldn’t change, and the beauty of the world would wither. My grandad told me an old story when I was little about the moon being shy, and that’s Addy.”
That analogy was perfect for her.
“We couldn’t believe it when she began playing music. She took our breath away with everything, but the emotions and beauty of her music? They were stunning.”
I don’t know why I did it, but I opened up to Putri after hearing that. “I need to be blunt—I don’t believe in love at first sight or that romantic notion of instalove. I’m not a cynic, I’m a realist. But something about Adrienne hit me, and I couldn’t get her out of my mind for six months. The first morning I thought I was doing better, she turned up again. It’s like the world’s either acting for us or against us.”
“Fate never acts against us, Marcus. I may wind my husband up like I did tonight, but I knew fate was working for us when I met him.”
Maybe she was right. Maybe fate was working for us when it brought us together twice.
Glancing out the window, I saw Addy sitting there, watching her dad still ranting on the phone, his arms flying out left, right, and center. Literally.
“She won’t come in, you know. She hates her Nonna’s house and how dark it is in here, so she hardly spends any time inside it.”
I’d been so caught up in what was going on, I’d forgotten what she’d told me about the kitchen. She wasn’t kidding or exaggerating—the place was so dark, it felt like it was all closing in around me.
I don’t think I’d ever seen someone paint their ceiling a dark color like this. They usually kept them white. Addy was right, and I wasn’t even claustrophobic.
Reading the look on my face accurately, Putri patted me on the shoulder. “You go outside and wait for me. I’ll pass it all out to you.” I’d just turned to do what she’d suggested when she added, “If you need the bathroom, Addy’s house is unlocked. Trust me, you don’t want to use the ones in here.”
Everyone had a preference for the décor in their houses, but it also depended on the style of the home itself. Suffice it to say, Mrs. V’s interior decorating style triggered me, so I had absolutely no wish to use her bathrooms.
Fortunately, by the time we took the coffee back to the table, either the call was over, or the battery had died on the phone. Now Lorenzo was sitting glaring at the top of the table while Addy tapped her fingers to a song in her mind, and Mrs. V smiled brightly, like absolutely nothing had happened.
Searching my brain after I’d helped pass the cups out, I decided on a safe topic and question to ask Lorenzo.
“So, Mr. Valtolina, what is it you do?”
His head turned spookily slowly toward me, and then he said deadpan, “I’m an anger management counselor.”
If I hadn’t been choking on the mouthful of coffee I’d been swallowing, I might have laughed, thinking it was a joke. Judging by the sober expressions on all of their faces, the joke was on me. Or it was on his patients, because I was reasonably certain anger management counselors were meant to help people calm their anger, not show them how to use it.
If I were a sane man, I’d have done what Putri suggested and run for the hills. Like I’d said before: I was part Townsend, and our freaky blood ran hotter than most, so once I got my mind around all of this, I was going to have to come back with my A-game.
“Marcus,” Mrs. V said suddenly, sitting upright. “You can juggle tomatoes?”
A chorus of curses erupted around the table, making it clear my A-game might not be enough.
Chapter Seven
Addy
“Daddy told him he was an anger management therapist?” Adia howled down the phone, almost deafening me. “I thought Mom was joking when she told me.”
“No, it happened,” I sighed, staring blindly at the piece of paper waiting for me to write the music on it.
“Did he run?”
“Nope. He stayed for another hour and looked like nothing had happened.”
There was a moment’s silence, then she asked, “Is he insane? I feel that might be one of the signs of it.”