The Italian Read online

  “I don’t know—”

  “Let me just get this out.”

  “Okay.” Hope snapped her mouth shut.

  “The last few months, I’ve been looking back at all the little idiosyncrasies in my life. Like how you just packed up our belongings in your old Toyota Corolla and left Colorado for Seattle which led to a bright future for each of us, and how I met Riley when the apartment caught on fire next door, and how all those hours I spent in the kitchen with Miss Susan learning how to cook turned into a business. I mean seriously, who would’ve ever thought I’d own a bakery?”

  “I knew you could do it. Sugar Pies is on its way to being one of the trendiest bakeries in Seattle.”

  “Even Sugar Pies itself is an anomaly. The bakery started the Clean Up Our City Movement bringing new life back into a not-so-wonderful neighborhood.” Faith paused. “Think about it, Hope. Despite having a shitty mother, we turned out to be strong, independent women. We wouldn’t be who we are today if Mom would’ve . . .”

  “Would’ve what?” Hope interjected. Hearing a slight bit of empathy in her sister’s tone struck a deep chord. “Loved us? Chose not to walk out on us for some guy she barely knew?”

  “I think she loves us . . . just in some weird, non-maternal, crazy, sort of way. It’s not like Mom had a great upbringing. She didn’t have the right tools to—”

  “Don’t even start this soft-hearted mumbo jumbo therapy bullshit with me. It doesn’t matter how she was raised. She doesn’t get a pass for the hell she put us through. It’s not like she had a disease that left her incapable of knowing right from wrong. She’s elected not to love us. She made the conscious decision to drive away in some guy’s fancy red truck, leaving us behind to fend for ourselves.” Hope felt an angry grimace break across her lips. “I know you’ve found it in your heart to forgive her, but you’re far more merciful than me. I don’t hate her anymore, but I’ll never forgive her. She’s a selfish bitch.”

  “It’s easier for me to move forward in a positive frame of mind instead of dwelling on the past. Hating her isn’t constructive, neither is dwelling on the past . . . including everything that happened with Frank.”

  Blood spiked the surface of her skin, turning it hot and clammy. Hope leaned forward, resting her elbows on the railing, shaking her head adamantly. “That’s going way too far. There’s no excuse for what Frank did to you.”

  “I’m not excusing him for what he did,” Faith agreed with disgust. “I’m just putting it into a timeline of my life and admitting that it changed the course of both our lives. Think about it, Hope. Consider all the little coincidences in your life . . .”

  “I’d prefer not to.”

  Faith cast her a glance of irritation, beseeching Hope to play along. “I’m serious. We’d probably still be in Colorado if Mom hadn’t married Joe and moved to Oklahoma.”

  “It’s not like she offered to take us with her. After all, I’d had my driver’s license for a year which she claimed made me responsible enough and according to her my only responsibility was to make sure you got to school every day. Every other obligation and requirement of being a parent seemed to slip her mind. And let’s not forget, you were very mature for thirteen years old.”

  “Yeah, and if it weren’t for that nasty cowboy mayor in the red truck—” They both shuddered at the image of the squat-heavy rancher in his late sixties, each finger adorned with shiny gold rings and hair combed over to hide his balding head. “—Mom wouldn’t have left and we never would’ve sold everything in the apartment . . .”

  “And her old Mercedes. Remember that thing?”

  Faith nodded, leaning her head against Hope’s shoulder. “God, she was pissed when you told her that you sold it.”

  The simple memory of her mother’s screaming voice ringing through the phone still brought feelings of victory. It was also the first time Hope had ever bartered a deal, selling the car for seven thousand dollars. Two thousand dollars over its value.

  Rigidness began to slacken from her jaw. “Yeah, she was. I get what you’re trying to say. Really, I do. Moving to Seattle changed our lives. We’ve triumphed through the adversity. Surviving our past has molded us into the women that we are.” Hope held up her fist mimicking a 1970’s women’s rights movement poster. “I am a lion and you’re gonna hear me roar.”

  “What I’m getting at is—” Faith huffed, determined to get the subject back on task. “—you know damn well I’ve never believed in the theory of fate, but when Riley and I finally made the decision to use a surrogate . . . the only person I could see was you.”

  The raw sincerity spilling from her heart nearly made Hope come undone. Hope drew in a shaky breath, pulling the damp salty air deep into her lungs. The coolness biting in her chest.

  “And you want to know what the absolute crazy thing is? I feel so calm about it. I don’t really even know how to explain it. I know this is exactly where we’re meant to be.” Faith threw her hands outward, fingers pointed and stiff, attempting to put her feelings into words. “Out of all the times I wanted to be pregnant, or was pregnant, and prayed to stay pregnant, I never felt this kind of definitive conviction. I don’t know why! And it’s not just because I want it so badly. This feels different. It feels right in here.” Faith covered her heart with both hands.

  Hot tears streamed down Hope’s cheeks, moved by her sister’s weighted words of sentiment. Out of everything they’d been through, they never spoke much about their childhood. It wasn’t as if they kept their emotions bottled up like a message in a bottle adrift at sea for twenty years, they merely refused to be vulnerable. Or look back.

  “You’re putting me in an impossible position, Faith. The last thing I want to do is deny you the opportunity of something so precious, something you want more than anything in the world, but how am I supposed to say yes? You’re asking me to be pregnant for Christ’s sake. That stretches beyond my comprehension and my emotional boundaries. Not to mention the physical aspect of stretching my stomach and my uterus way past their limits.” Hope could feel her pussy going into cardiac arrest, squeezing tightly and breaking into a cold sweat, at the mere mention of pushing a small human through its entrance. “Essentially, I’d have to give up my entire life for a year.”

  “One year of your life would give me a lifetime of happiness.” She tipped her head to the side, linking their arms at the elbow. “Will you at least consider being our surrogate? I promise that I’d be by your side the whole time.”

  “No shit?” she mused sarcastically, easing the tension.

  “At least you wouldn’t have your period for nine months. That’s a plus.” Faith had a gift for twisting persistence with sweetness like a chocolate/vanilla swirl ice cream cone. She knew exactly what to say to draw Hope in and make her laugh.

  “I’ll think about it. No promises. I mean it, Faith. Don’t get your hopes up.”

  “I won’t.”

  They both knew she was lying.

  “HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?” Jeannie asked comically, setting a stack of mail and a hefty package from UPS on Hope’s desk. “You’re backing out of the Australia trip next week?”

  “I’m not backing out. I simply need to catch up on a few things at home. Besides, Carl’s more than happy about the switch. Their Riesling is his favorite, plus he can get a day of surfing in.”

  A two-day weekend wouldn’t be near enough time for her to catch up on some much-needed pillow time. She hadn’t slept in three nights, since her dinner meeting with Faith and Riley, and no amount of wine, not even a Snickers bar, was going to pull her out of her foul mood.

  “Are you coming down with the flu or something? You never miss the chance to spread your wings.”

  “You mean spread my legs?” Hope questioned sardonically, conscious of the slight widening of her assistant’s eyes. “Yeah, I’m fully aware of the bullshit nickname Mark uses for me.”

  “Hey, I never say that about you,” Jeannie assured. She tucked a piece of blon
de hair behind her ear, releasing a sweet sigh filled with envy. “I admire your casual dating skills.”

  “I wouldn’t call it skills . . . more like life strategies.” Hope thumbed through the envelopes. An irrepressible grin spread across her face noting the word Italy stamped on the brown package.

  “I don’t care what you call it. I could go for some casual, no-ties, tall, dark, and handsome or even some short, blond and hung. The local man market is a total bust. I had a date last week with a guy who I’d swear his occupation must’ve been a cucumber smuggler. I mean . . . this guy was totally packing.” Jeannie snickered at her own pun, raising her hands to measure twelve inches apart. “But yikes, zero personality.”

  “At least he wasn’t a carrot smuggler.” Amusement wedged into the corner of her mouth. Hope reached into her desk drawer, retrieved an envelope, and handed it to Jeannie. “I’ve got four tickets to the Mahogany and Merlot Wine Festival this weekend. Not sure if you’ll find another cucumber smuggler, but between the vintage boats and delectable wine it sounds like an eyeful of well-to-do, testosterone-filled, man candy weekend to me.”

  “Yes! That does sound like the perfect weekend,” Jeannie agreed, gladly accepting the tickets. “What are you doing this weekend? Got a hot date?”

  “Yeah, with my pillow. I need to catch up on some sleep.”

  Samantha entered Hope’s office, glaring at the envelope in Jeannie’s hand. “You’re not attending Mahogany and Merlot?”

  Caught off guard by the annoyance in her boss’s tone, Hope stammered, “I had planned to go, but as it turns out I can’t make it this weekend.”

  “I fully intended for you to represent Boxco.”

  “When you gave me the tickets, you didn’t mention that it was a work-related event,” Hope reminded apologetically, plastering a rueful smile on her face in hopes of stifling her boss’s oncoming outburst. “Jeannie did a wonderful job at the last blind tasting in Napa. Do you have someone else you’d like to send?”

  “Well, since I can’t count on you—” she scolded, staring at Hope with a stone-like gaze. “—I guess Jeannie can go.”

  Her assistant stood frozen in place, fighting the urge to squirm. Clearly she didn’t know whether she should run out the door or speak up. Finding a dose of courage, Jeannie assured hastily before cutting out the door, “Thanks. I’ll do my best to make a good showing for us.”

  “First, Australia and now this?” Samantha’s eyes narrowed with curiosity. “Is there something going on that I should know about, Hope?”

  “No, not at all. Like I said, I didn’t realize Mahogany and Merlot was a mandatory event. It’s not on the calendar, so I just figured . . .”

  “Next time, before you go figuring things out on your own, check with me.”

  “Of course,” Hope agreed cautiously through a clenched jaw, watching Samantha turn on a pointy heel and march out the door.

  She sank back into her chair, shaking her head in frustration. Glimpsing the box on her desk, Hope rocked forward and retrieved a pair of scissors from the drawer. She opened the box, finding six bottles of her favorite wine adorned with the Giovanni’s gorgeous new label and a piece of paper folded in half. A smile touched her lips as she opened the note.

  I wish you were here so we could enjoy this together.

  Think of me while you drink it.

  Antonio

  A naughty chuckle simmered in her chest, warming her to the core. She’d already planned on spending the night in, just her and a tub full of bubbles. “Oh, I’ll definitely be thinking of you tonight.”

  Agitation reached its peak when Hope lifted her head off the pillow reading 2:32am on the clock beside her bed. She rolled to her stomach, hiking one leg over a pillow, battling another night with virtually no sleep. She couldn’t get Faith and Riley out of her mind. They hadn’t spoken since the night at Ray’s when they asked her to be their surrogate.

  All of her adult life, Hope fought to have control over every aspect of her life. She made her own money, her own decisions, her own mistakes, and her own happiness. She counted on herself, refusing to rely on another person or society for validation. Hope learned at a young age, being on her own was much safer than depending on someone else.

  However, her little sister was stripped of all control, every ounce of it, each time she lost a baby. The amount of pain Faith and Riley suffered after each miscarriage was unimaginable and immeasurable. Hope couldn’t imagine what it felt like to want something so badly only to have it forced from her hands, taken like a thief in the night.

  Pulling herself from the warmth of her bed, Hope slipped into her white, silky robe and padded to the kitchen for a cup of hot tea. She gathered her long mane atop her head, weaving a piece around the base, securing it into a loose bun.

  Lights from the city below filtered in through the wall of windows of her high-rise loft, swamping the darkness in a muted amber glow. Staring out, Hope wondered if her sister ever slept soundly. Nighttime was the worst for Faith. That time of night when the rush of a hectic day slipped into the quiet of the nightfall and all you’re left with is the silence of your deepest, most vulnerable thoughts.

  Staring at her reflection in the window, Hope untied the sash from around her robe, exposing her nude body to the soft glow streaming in from the sleepy city beyond the glass. The pounding of her heart thundered inside her chest as the palms of her hands coasted over the flat muscles of her stomach.

  It didn’t make sense.

  Sometimes life could be so unfair.

  Faith and Riley would make the best parents. It just didn’t seem right.

  What they asked of her was an incredible sacrifice, a selfless act that required her to do the one thing that terrified her the most. The act of generosity stretched far beyond the notion of being pregnant and giving birth, as if those weren’t bad enough, it required her to let go of control.

  Hope never just sat back and simply allowed things to happen, she made things happen. Her vision, always narrow and focused, attached to a specific outcome. An outcome that most definitely did not include being pregnant.

  Control was the precise piece of Hope’s life that kept her sane and rational. Yet, how could she deny her sister a lifetime worth of happiness? A life without a child would leave her sister shattered and empty. A shell of the woman she dreamed of being.

  Morally conflicted, she closed her eyes, allowing her hands to roam along the tight curves of her abdomen. Hope tried to visualize her belly, full and round, but she just couldn’t picture it. She could only envision her sister’s bright smile, shining bigger and happier than she’d ever seen before.

  “I must be out of my fucking mind,” she grumbled, yanking the robe from her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor as she made her way to the bedroom closet.

  A pair of rust-colored sconces flanked the entry, casting a dim light on the welcome mat at her feet. Hope rang the doorbell, staring at a wreath made of magnolia branches hanging on the cream-colored door. Shivering from head to toe, she was unsure if it was the butterflies in her stomach or the cold night air causing her to tremble. Hope shoved both hands in the pockets of her trench coat for warmth.

  Hearing movement inside, she waved and smiled awkwardly at the marble-sized peephole. Riley opened the door wearing sweatpants and a look of confusion. His short, dark hair standing on end.

  “Hope?” He squinted, shielding his eyes from the soft light.

  “Is that my sister?” Faith questioned, alarm inundated her voice as she came into view, pulling a sweatshirt over her head.

  “Sorry to wake you up.”

  Stepping inside, Hope was hit with twenty questions. “What are you doing here? Is everything okay? What time is it?”

  Riley flipped on the lights in the family room and kitchen, disappearing into the hallway leading to their bedroom, returning seconds later wearing a navy-blue T-shirt.

  “I’m fine,” Hope grumbled. She tossed her purse on the coffee table, enco
uraging the couple to sit on the sofa.

  Tension tightened the delicate features of her sister’s face. Faith’s sea-green eyes filled with uneasy worry.

  “Look,” Hope started, jerking her long golden mane from its bun as she began to pace. “If we’re going to do this then I need to do it now. I’ve got eleven and a half months before all hell breaks loose at work. September and October are my busiest time of year. So whatever we need to do to get . . .”

  “You’re going to do it?” The weight of disbelief wedged in a deep wrinkle in her sister’s forehead. Her eyes pulled wide. “You’re really going to help us?”

  “I’ll donate my uterus, but don’t expect me to babysit or change a diaper—” Hope cast a finger between the couple. “—and if I even hear the word nursing, I’ll never speak to you again. There’s no way I’m putting my boobs—”

  Faith lunged forward tackling Hope, slamming her body into the corner of the plush sectional. “You don’t know how happy you’ve made me! I promise you’ll never have to babysit.”

  “No pumping of breasts, no coddling, no nurturing of any sort.” Her words broke into a groan, feeling Riley’s beefy arms surround both of the women, lifting them to their feet for an airtight group hug.

  “Of course not.” Faith placed a wild torrent of kisses all over Hope’s face. “Oh my, God. You’ve just made me . . . us, the happiest people in the world! Thank you, thank you, thank you, Hope!”

  She cupped her sister’s jaw, staring into the sea of green brimming with tears of ecstasy. “How could I tell you no? You deserve every ounce of happiness you can get.”

  “We’re going to have a baby!” Faith shouted in exhilaration, jumping up and down like a group huddle at a Super Bowl game.

  Riley looked directly into Hope’s eyes, his face contorted, strung with raw sentiment, right above hers. “Thank you. You’ll never know how much this means to her.”