April is a friend. I’ll do whatever I can for her.

My money affords the luxury of the best medical care.

“She told me about Dexie.” A half smile tugs at his mouth. “Her name is Dexie, right?”

“Dexie,” I repeat back.

“You haven’t brought her around.” He looks up at the blue sky again. “I want to meet her.”

I can’t promise him that will happen. I don’t know what Dexie feels, or what her future holds.

I’ll pack up my life tomorrow and follow her to California if she’ll grant me that privilege, but she’s not answering any of my calls or text messages, so my suitcase is still in the hall closet, and my heart is on hold.

“I need to say something to you.” Looking up at me, my dad shields his eyes from the morning sun. “Listen. Don’t interrupt.”

I dig my hands into the pockets of my jeans. “Go for it, Pop.”

“You are the son.” He pats the center of my chest with his hand. “I am the dad.”

I bite my lip to avoid a terse remark about that obvious fact.

“It was my job to help you grieve.” His voice quakes. “I gave you that job and I shouldn’t have.”

I shake my head. “Pop, I...”

“No interruptions.” He reaches up to grab my shoulders. “I put too much on you. These shoulders are strong, but mine are too.”

I nod.

“Don’t be afraid to love this woman, Rocco.” A smile spreads on his face. “A father’s joy in his children’s happiness.”

“You’ll bring her to meet me,” he goes on, “I’ll love her too and you’ll never take one day with her for granted.”

“I won’t,” I respond quietly. “I’ll cherish every single one of them.”

“We’re going to be all right.” He pats his palm against my cheek. “You go and be happy. That’s what I want.”

It’s what I want too. I hope to hell it’s what Dexie wants.

***

Dread seeps into my belly as I stare out the windows of my apartment.

I can’t see into Dexie’s place anymore.

Sometime between my stop here last night and now, Harold must have installed blinds over the three windows that used to give me a clear view into the life of the woman I adore.

I tug my phone out of my pocket and try and call her again.

It goes straight to voicemail with a warning that her mailbox is full.

I can’t even fucking leave her a message.

I scroll through the logged calls on my phone and pull up a number I have no right calling.

I press the number to dial it.

“Hello.”

Tags: Deborah Bladon The Calvettis of New York Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net