The Italian's Doorstep Surprise

The older woman turned to Honora. “But listen to us going on and on about ourselves. I haven’t congratulated you on your engagement, dear.” She smiled broadly. “Such happy news. And don’t worry—” she held up her hand “—I’ve already replaced you at the store.”

“I told her I’ll work for free,” Patrick chortled.

Honora stared at him in shock. “You’re leaving the rooftop garden? But it’s your passion!”

He shook his head. “Honestly, the way my arthritis has been acting up in winter, I was ready to try something new. Besides, Phyllis is my passion now, and she says life begins at seventy.”

“It does,” she agreed. He looked at her.

“Letting myself love you has already changed me,” he said quietly. “It’s let the light in.”

He suddenly seemed younger than Honora, in spite of all his gray hair. And she saw it all clearly.

For thirteen years, h

e’d given up his own dreams to take care of his grandchild. Even after Honora had become an adult, he’d still had to put her first. After being widowed for decades, he’d pushed away the woman he loved. He’d obviously thought he had no choice, since Honora had only had a part-time job, no apartment of her own, and then to top it off, she’d accidentally gotten pregnant.

She’d known she was a burden. She just hadn’t realized how much of one. She felt sick with shame.

“I guess I’ll need a new gardener,” Nico said dryly.

“Yup.”

“Probably for the best,” he responded. “Though I’ll never find another gardener who can coax daffodils so well.”

Patrick grinned. “No, that you won’t.”

“Darling,” Phyllis said, “I need to go check on the shop—”

“Right.” He abruptly stood up. “And I’m sure you two have places to be.” Tilting his head, Patrick said to Honora, “So did you set a date?”

Rising in his turn, Nico cleared his throat. “Actually, I should tell you, we—”

Grabbing his hand, Honora squeezed it. “We’ll wait to get married until you return from your honeymoon.”

She stared hard at Nico, willing him to play along.

“Yes,” he said. “In two weeks.”

“Perfect.” The older couple beamed at them.

“I’ll say goodbye, then,” Nico said to Honora, and started to leave. But as he did, Phyllis elbowed her grandfather in the ribs.

“Right. The thing is,” Patrick said, “Phyllis is having her apartment painted, so she’ll be staying here tonight. Even though it’s not strictly proper.” His cheeks were pink as he cleared his throat. “You’re very welcome to stay too, of course, Honora. At least until you move in with Nico after your marriage.”

It was like being a deer and seeing the approaching headlights of the car that was about to hit you. She stared at her grandfather, frozen.

He smiled. “But I thought...why make you pretend? I’m sure you’d rather stay at the penthouse immediately. I can’t fool myself that you’re not sleeping together, not when...” His eyes fell briefly on Honora’s belly. “So if you’d rather...”

“But of course, you’ll always be welcome here, dear,” Phyllis added. “It’s your home.”

“Thanks.” This place had been Honora’s home, but it suddenly wasn’t anymore. The thought of staying here, butting in on their love affair, being a burden, feeling like an outsider...

“You’re right, Granddad.” She forced herself to smile. “The truth is, if you don’t mind, I’d rather stay with Nico tonight.”

The other couple looked relieved.

“I figured. And I can hardly criticize you for impropriety, can I?” her grandfather said with a sheepish grin. Then he blinked, reaching to squeeze her hand. “I’m so happy for both of us, Honora.” His eyes wandered to his fiancée. “Have you ever felt this way before?”