Chapter 13

Francesca walked upstairs to check on her patient. She opened the door to see Tony looking a little green as he tried to sit up. She was about to ask how he was feeling when there was a bang at the front door. “Antonio! Antonio Juan de la Cruz Marino! Antonio, hijo!” Both Tony and Francesca turned their heads toward the voice. Francesca’s brow furrowed, and Tony groaned.

“Who’s that?” she asked. The banging on the door was louder this time.

Tony groaned again and tried to swing his legs over the side of the bed to get up. “That loud screeching noise is my mother,” he said as Francesca shoved him back down.

“I got it. Stay here.”

He said something she couldn’t understand, but it sounded very much like “brace yourself.”

Francesca wished she had worn something a little nicer. She hated feeling unsure of herself, and dressing in her stilettos and designer business suits, with her face perfectly made up, made her feel self-assured.

Francesca unlocked the door, but before she had the chance to fully open it, three women came barreling in. The oldest of the three pushed her aside and walked straight upstairs toward Tony’s room. Francesca barely got a glimpse of her—that must be Tony’s mother. The other two were slower and stopped to speak with Francesca.

“Hi there.” A younger version of the hellcat who had just rushed by greeted her. Francesca immediately recognized her as one of the women photographed with Tony. “I’m Isabella Marino, Tony’s sister.”

“Hi. I’m Francesca Silva,” she said, extending her hand.

“Francesca?” they both said quizzically. Clearly, they were waiting for more information.

“Uh, yeah. I work at the Academy. I’m his boss, actually.”

The younger of the two women indiscreetly looked her up and down. “Boss?”

“Yeah, I…uh…Tony’s sick. He has the flu.”

The two women didn’t say anything for an uncomfortable second. Since she was still holding the door open, she closed it and then turned to look at the women again.

“Sorry, I’m Sofia,” said the younger one. “Another sister. I’ve heard a lot about you—it’s nice to finally meet you.”

“So, what’s the matter with his phone? We were down in Key West on vacation, and when he didn’t answer his phone Mom got worried and assumed something was going on and made us rush over here.” Sofia said the sentence in one long quick breath, then leaned in close to Francesca. “You cannot even begin to comprehend what it’s like to be in a car with my mother when she’s worried about her baby.”

“Baby?” Francesca laughed. “He has the flu. Wait! Key West? That’s a long drive, isn’t it?”

“Exactly. That’s four hours of praying to every Catholic saint for Tony,” Isabella said, holding out four fingers. “We drove four damn hours to check on Mama’s little boy. Her hijo.”

Just then the older woman came down the stairs gesticulating and talking loudly to no one in particular. “Ay, mi niño!” She headed for the kitchen, and the women followed.

Francesca had no clue what Tony’s mother was saying. She wore white capri pants and a cardigan, and her eyes were like Tony’s, dark and mesmerizing. She opened the freezer and looked around, then slammed it closed.

“Mom,” Sofia called out, but the woman didn’t reply. Instead she took out the leftover quarter chicken from Francesca’s soup, which she had wrapped carefully and frozen.

“Mom!” Sofia and Isabella repeated.

“Que?”

“English, Mom.”

“What?” the woman repeated in English. This time she turned around, a knife in one hand, the chicken in the other, and for the first time saw Francesca.

“Mom, this is Francesca Silva,” Sofia said.

“Antonio’s boss,” Isabella clarified with a smirk.

“Boss?” the woman asked. “Why you here? He get in trouble with work?”

“Um…no. I own the Academy where he trains. I’m staying here while he gets ready for his next fight.”

“Hmmm.” The woman made a noise before turning around and taking more ingredients out of the pantry and refrigerator. “Casi se muere Antonio. Que clase de jefa es esa que no llama a la madre cuando su pobre niño se está muriendo?”

“Mom! Tony isn’t dying. You need to relax. Francesca says it’s just the flu.”

“The flu?” The woman slammed the pot on the stove. “Eso no es el flu.”

“Mom, speak English—you’re being rude!” Isabella said.

“It’s fine,” Francesca said.

“You don’t look American.” Tony’s mother glared at her. “Are ju one of those Hispanic women that don’t embrace Espanish culture?” She was waving the knife around.

“No, Mrs. Marino, I’m not. I’m Brazilian.”

“Oh, then what’s the big deal? You understand what I say in Spanish.” The woman turned and continued muttering things in her language.

“Actually, no, I don’t. I speak Portuguese, not Spanish. But I do understand some words every now and again. It’s—”

“Mom, you’re being rude,” Isabella said again. She seemed to be braver then her sister.

“I not be rude. I make shicken soup for my Antonio. He will be better by tomorrow. Ms. Brasil shoulda called me and told me my baby sick.”

“Oh. Um…” Francesca wasn’t really sure how to respond to that. The man was in his mid-thirties, a professional cage fighter, and weighed 230 pounds; it hadn’t even occurred to her to call his mother. But that gave her an idea that she figured would help her get on his mother’s good side. Francesca pulled out a container from the refrigerator and opened it. “I made Tony chicken soup earlier.” She heard a small gasp from behind her. When she looked over her shoulder, she saw Tony’s sisters giving her a pitying look that made her question her decision to mention the soup. Why was this woman making her so nervous? Why did members of the Marino family have this effect on her? She took a deep breath and continued, “He loved it. We can just reheat it and that way you don’t have to go through all the trouble.”

She heard one of the women behind her mumble something that sounded like “bad choice of words.”

Francesca immediately knew she’d said the wrong thing, because the woman moved a step closer, still brandishing the knife.

“Trouble? No. My son is no trouble.” The woman slammed the knife on the counter and yanked the container from Francesca’s hand. She lifted the lid, smelled it, and made a face. “Is bad. So very bad. Yuck.” She turned and poured the contents into the sink.

Both sisters yelled at once, “Mom!”

Francesca was heartbroken, and more intimidated than she’d ever felt in her entire life. In the last few minutes she’d come to realize that nothing she could do would ever be good enough for Mrs. Marino’s little boy.

Tony shuffled down the stairs and plopped himself onto the couch. “What’s going on? Sick guy here, trying to sleep.”

“Hi, Antonio,” Isabella said, walking over and giving him a kiss on the cheek before sitting next to him. Sofia did the same.

“Mom’s being rude to your frien—boss.” Tony’s brow furrowed as Isabel spoke. “She threw away the soup Francesca made you and said it was yucky.”

“Fuuuck.” Tony looked up. “Mom?”

“No bad words!” she yelled at Tony. “She strong woman. She boss of strong men. She can handle it, right? Ju no cook good. I cook good. I take care of my boy. Ju soup smelled…” Instead of saying the words she squinted her eyes, pinched her nose, and stuck out her tongue. “I not trying to hurt your feeling. It’s truth.”

“Mami! Por favor,” Tony pleaded.

“Yeah, Mom, please. Stop that,” Isabella echoed.

Francesca didn’t want to make a big deal of it. “Hey, don’t worry about it. Your mother’s right. I’m a big girl, I can handle a little truth.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Anyway, since it seems like you’ll be taken care of, I guess I’m going to go take a shower. It’s been a long day.”

“Shower? Here?” His mother crossed her arms over her chest. “Why is jour boss taking a shower at jour home, hijo?”

“My boss?” He laughed. “Well, I guess she is that too. She’s also my girlfriend.”

His mother’s eyes widened before they narrowed to slits.

“Um…Mrs. Marino, these are the instructions for the medicines the doctor recommended he take so he can feel better. I’ll just write down the times he last took them,” Francesca said nervously.

The woman’s facial expression seemed to soften somewhat. It wasn’t exactly a smile, but it wasn’t quite a scowl either. “Ju buy him medicine and make him take it?”

Francesca looked up from where she had been writing. “Uh, yeah. It was no big deal, Mrs. Marino.”

“Ju his girlfriend?”

Francesca nodded.

“Why ju no visit me before?”

“Mom, you’ve been out of town most of the times she’s been in Miami,” Tony answered.

“Ju said your name is Francesca?” Francesca nodded, and the woman stepped closer and held her hand out. “Thank ju for helping my baby. Please, call me Ana Caridad Concepción de la Cruz Marino.”

Before she realized what she was saying, Francesca blurted out, “Holy fuck, that whole thing?”

She heard laughter behind her. “Watch jour language, joung lady! My friends call me Annie.”

Francesca met the woman’s extended hand. “Nice to meet you, Annie.”

The woman nodded and went back to preparing the soup.

As Francesca headed upstairs, Tony followed behind her. “That was intense,” she whispered to him.

“My mom’s a little intense. But she means well.”

“I can’t believe you told her I’m your girlfriend.”

“Aren’t you?”

“Yeah, but I don’t know…it’s so fast. Meeting the parents?”

“Are you outta your mind? I’ve chased after you for months, and we’ve been together on and off for months. It’s long overdue. Plus I don’t plan on letting you go, so everyone needs to get used to seeing you around. You came to Miami to be with me, so you were bound to meet them at some point.”

She laughed. “I came to Miami to check on the training. I came to put you back in your place.”

He laughed. “Is that the only reason? Because I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

She let out a big breath and decided to give this emotion thing a try. “No. No, it’s not the only reason.” He crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for her to continue. “I missed you when you were here without me, and I guess I’m glad I finally got to meet your family. It’s just a little scary, that’s all.”

He chuckled. “Was that so hard? It’s like pulling teeth with you.” He winked. “I’ll be downstairs. Going to try to get rid of my family.”

He ran his hand through his hair, causing it to stick up all over the place and making him utterly adorable. He still looked a little pasty, and she could tell he was still not feeling well. Also, he looked unsure, which was unlike Tony. It made him seem more human. More endearing. “By the way, I am really sorry about my mother. That was very rude of her.” He took her hand, led her into his room, and shut the door behind them.

“It’s okay. I understand.” She was leaning against the armoire, and he was standing in front of her playing with the string on his gym shorts. She shoved his shoulder playfully, causing him to look up and meet her gaze. “You coulda told me the soup was yucky.” Francesca pinched her nose, mimicking his mother.

“It wasn’t yucky. It was…good.” His eyes darted to a spot above her head.

She put her hands on her waist and stood up straight. “You’re totally lying right now. You hated my soup.”

“Okay, fine. The soup was awful, mi amor. I mean, really…not for human consumption.” She shoved him again, and he caught her wrist in his. “But you were so sweet and cute, I didn’t have the heart to tell you.” He brought the palm of her hand to his lips and kissed it before heading back downstairs to deal with his family.

“What’s with Brazil, brother dearest?” Sofia asked from the couch while Isabel and their mother were in the kitchen. “Did you tell her already?” Growing up, he had been closest to her. Isabella was like another mother, and really, so were his other sisters, but not Sofia. She was the rebel of the family, the youngest girl, and the only one who seemed to understand him—most of the time. He knew exactly what she meant.

“Yes, she knows I love her,” he admitted, sitting on the edge of the couch. “She’s got some issues to resolve, so I can’t push her much.”

“Boss?” she asked.

“Sort of, I guess. She owns Worth the Fight Academy together with Slade. She’s the one who brought me in and gave me a chance. Be nice to her. She’s important.”

“You’re in love with her, and she’s the only person other than your family who still believes in you. Yeah, I’d say she’s important.” Sofia quickly changed the subject. “How about the other part of our conversation, retiring? Any thoughts on that?”

“Yeah. I’ve been thinking about it. I think this next fight will be the last one.”

“And you’re good with that?”

“Yeah. I really think I am.” He scratched his beard. “Not sure how Francesca will take it. I sort of mentioned it once, but we’ve never really discussed it. She did sign me up to fight. If I’m not fighting, maybe there’s no point in me sticking around, ya know?”

“You’re so blind sometimes. That woman just put up with Mom and made you soup. You said she was feisty and strong, but she completely stepped down in respect for Mom and because she likely knows how important family is for you. She will not be mad about you retiring. Trust me.” Sofia put her feet on the couch, making herself comfortable. “I’m glad you have someone in that small town who feels the same way we do. I worry about you. You’ve been on a downhill spiral for a while now; if it really is your last fight, you need to end your career on a high note so you don’t have any regrets later. I hope you’re taking your training seriously and are well prepared.”

He leaned his head back against the cushion. His career had taken a dip in the past few years. He used to be able to take punks out in the first round. Now it took him longer—much longer. He knew it was time to stop fighting. But he also agreed with Sofia that he should end his fighting career with a win.

His mother walked in with a big bowl of soup, and Sofia moved over to make room for her. Tony sat up and grabbed the bowl and ate a spoonful. Now that was soup. He closed his eyes and took a moment to savor the familiar flavors. His mother felt his forehead and then went around the room tidying up.

She began to talk fast in Spanish, chiding him for not calling her as soon as he felt ill, and inquiring about Francesca and why she hadn’t called her either. She told him he needed a woman to take good care of him. Tony just sighed and rolled his eyes. He was used to her extreme mothering. She was all up in her kids’ business and gave her opinions freely and without hesitation. There was a good heart in there somewhere; you just had to ignore the overtly aggressive pampering.

When he finished the soup, he placed the bowl on the side table and then lay back on the couch and watched his mom as she went around picking up his shoes. She was talking so fast he wondered if she ever stopped to take a breath. For the first time, he realized that his mother had been the most important woman in his life for so long, and he’d always stopped everything to help her if she needed something. She had sacrificed so much for them when they were growing up, and she’d never given up on him, even though any other mother would have, because Tony had been one hell of a kid to raise.

He loved being around his family, but right now they needed to leave. He wanted alone time with Francesca, and not in a sexual way. Well, mostly not sexual; he just wanted to be with her, in her company. And that scared the hell out of him, first because he’d never felt that way about anyone, and second, because he wasn’t sure where she stood. He’d never wanted any sort of commitment, but then he’d met Francesca, and now all he wanted was to claim this woman. To tame the untamable. For all other men to know that she was his. For her to know that she was his. Why couldn’t she just love him back?

His cell phone chimed with a text from Francesca: Goodnight, Antonio Juan de la Cruz Marino ; )

The lump in his throat tightened. He stood and began ushering his family out of his house.

A few days later, after Tony had started to feel better, he was lying on the couch drinking a beer and munching on some croquetas. Francesca had hovered, taking his temperature, making sure he ate, giving him medicine. She watched television with him and ordered them food. But they hadn’t talked about anything deeper than whether to have pizza or burgers for dinner.

“What are you eating?” she asked as she flopped down next to him, her feet on the coffee table. For the last few days she had been wearing jeans or shorts and T-shirts instead of her normal suits, and she looked younger.

He handed her one, and she took a bite. “These are good.”

“They’re called croquetas. They’re breaded, deep-fried, and filled with ham.”

“Wow. They’re delicious. Fattening, but delicious.” He shrugged and popped another in his mouth. “Your mother keeps bringing food over.”

“Yeah. She likes to cook.” He finished his beer. “I’m going to my family’s house later for a barbeque. Want to come?”

“Sure.” She stood. “What should I wear?”

He shrugged. “Dunno. But not a suit!” he added, and she laughed.

“Haven’t you noticed? I haven’t been wearing them. You must’ve noticed what a frumpy slob I’ve been the past few days.” She reached up to touch her hair. “I don’t even think I’ve brushed it today.”

He leaned over and sniffed. “You do kinda stink.”

She shoved him playfully. “Shut up. It’s not like I haven’t been bathing or anything. I just thought it was time I started relaxing a bit.”

“I like it.” He smiled at her. “Go dressed just like that.”

She looked down at her WtF T-shirt and flannel pajama bottoms. “I don’t think so,” she said wryly. “I’m trying to relax, not have people think I’m homeless. I’m going to change—be right back.”

Tony watched her jog up the stairs. “Hey!” he yelled up. “Where are those cats? I haven’t seen them in days.”

She stuck her head out the door. “Cain’s still got them. I go and play with them and then I change clothes so you don’t get all that cat hair on you. Now that you’re feeling better we can move them back in.”

“I want to take them with us and try to sic them on my sister again today at the barbeque. Can you stick them inside the carrier for me, please?”

“Yeah, sure,” she yelled down.

Twenty minutes later, Francesca walked down with the carrier filled with the three kittens. She had on white linen pants and a simple sleeveless red shirt and flats; her red hair had been brushed and was loose on her shoulders. She looked breathtaking.

“Ready?” she said with a smile.

“You look…wow.”

She glanced down at the kittens, blushing at his comment. “You think your sister will take ’em back?”

“Doubt it, but at least my nieces can visit with them a little.”

His mother’s house was not as grand as Tony’s, but it was still huge. Unlike Tony’s, it was warm and inviting and she fell in love with it immediately. “Mi hijo,” Annie said as he came in. She smiled warmly at her son, who hugged her. Then she hugged Francesca and said, “Welcome to my home, hija.”

Six dark-haired girls squealed and ran full throttle at Tony, who was crouched down with his arms open. He closed his arms and hugged them tightly. They all giggled as they asked for piggyback rides. Tony stood holding the youngest of the bunch. “Francesca, this is Jill, Diane, Lidia, Stephanie, Alexa, and this little one here is Ana. My nieces.”

Francesca looked down at the cute little girls. “Very nice to meet you.”

“You’re pretty,” Ana said.

“Are you my tío’s girlfriend?” Diane, the oldest, asked.

Francesca’s face reddened, and Tony chuckled but didn’t say anything.

“Yes, I am,” she said to Diane.

Ana, whom Tony was holding, tugged at a piece of Francesca’s hair. “Blue!”

“No, Ana, it’s red,” Jill corrected. “She’s learning her colors,” she explained, and Francesca giggled.

“Cinderella!” Ana yelped when she saw the kitten’s nose sticking out of the carrier. “Mami!” she yelled. “Mami! Tío brought back our kitties!”

Diane grabbed the carrier and left the room, Ana skipping behind her.

“Twenty bucks we end up with those damn cats back in my car,” Tony whispered.

“No way! How could anyone say no to those little girls?”

“You don’t know Isabella very well yet. She’ll tell them no and send them back. She’s a great mom—the best, actually. But she’s strict. You’ll see.”

For the next few hours Francesca ate some of the best food she’d ever tasted and got to meet Tony’s huge family. She met the other sisters, as well as a lot of cousins and aunts and uncles. For the most part, Tony stayed by her side. The two eldest nieces, Diane and Jill, wanted Tony to help them with their boxing after dinner. She’d learned that the girls were in a kids’ kickboxing class and loved to talk about their uncle to anyone who would listen.

Francesca sat back and watched him work with Diane and Jill, and eventually he was surrounded by all six nieces. Sofia sat down next to Francesca. “He wanted to be a teacher,” she told her.

“He did? He’s good at it. I can see it.”

“Has he introduced you to Tommy?”

Francesca remembered the younger boxer. “Yes, I met Tommy. Sweet kid.”

“Yeah. Whenever Tony’s not traveling he goes to the community center and helps out with the kids. He says it’s for his public image.”

Francesca laughed. The cocky bastard would say that. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him as happy as that day with Tommy or now with the girls,” Francesca said, watching him correct their stance.

Sofia stood up. “You’re wrong about that.” Francesca looked up at her quizzically. “I’ve never seen him as happy as when he’s with you,” Sofia said before walking away. Damn, the woman was good with exits, Francesca thought.

After all the goodbyes had been said, Tony drove them back to his house, the kittens fast asleep in their carrier on the backseat.

“You should teach,” Francesca said. “You had mentioned the possibility of retiring. After this last fight, maybe you could start a kids’ class at WtF.”

He turned his head from the road to look at her. “What?”

“Tommy, the girls…that’s where your passion is. Not in fighting. Not anymore. You should think about it.”

Tony didn’t say anything. He just continued to stare straight ahead. Had she said too much? Maybe crossed a boundary? Maybe the man didn’t want to retire. She needed to find a way to talk to him about this without making him self-conscious about his age.

Francesca was lying on a love seat in her room in Tony’s house reading a book when he walked in. She had Winston on her lap, and the other three cats were playing with the laces of her sneakers. She closed her book and set it down.

“You must be bored out of your skull. I’m feeling much better—maybe we can go down to the beach or for a drive or something.”

“I’m good. I told Cain it was cool if he took off for a few days, and I was able to get lots of work done while you were sick this last week. I Skyped with Slade. Since the gym reopened two weeks ago, everything seems to be going smoothly.” She sighed in frustration at the reminder. “Ugh. I feel like all I’ve done is renovate that stupid place. Damn hurricane! Fucking gym.”

Tony sat down on the bed and patted the space next to him. She sat down, and when he put his arm around her shoulder she snuggled closer. When she was soft and compliant like this, he just wanted to tuck her under his arm and protect her from the world, although it was a silly notion considering the woman packed a punch and could really kick some serious ass. Not that he didn’t like that too—he did. A lot.

“Are you not happy about owning the gym? Isn’t that what you wanted?”

She shrugged. “I mean, it was always sort of implied that I would take over the gym, I suppose. But, no, it’s not really what I wanted. I wanted to be a lawyer. I wanted to go to law school, which is what I was on track to do when my dad had his first stroke. I got a late start because of the whole marriage thing, but I was working on it.”

“So don’t do it. Let Slade run it. Sell it.”

She gasped and looked up. “Are you nuts? The gym’s all that Pai cares about. He’d die. Literally. He emails, texts, or calls every day, and the first thing he asks is how things are going at WtF.”

“There has to be another way. You can’t just resign yourself to making this your life if you hate it.”

“I don’t hate it. I just don’t…I don’t know, it’s not what I wanted.”

“Is it because it reminds you of Rodrigo?”

She moved away a little and sat cross-legged on the bed next to him.

“Not really. Not anymore, at least. It’s not even that I don’t want to run it; it’s more that my dream was to go to law school and open a practice or something. Then maybe when my dad was really old, I’d take it over or have someone run it. But now, at twenty-eight, it’s not what I had planned. But he’s my dad, and he’s been such a great dad that I can’t let him down. Kind of like how you do so much for your mom. I have to do this for my dad.”

“I don’t know. I guess.” He shrugged.

She pulled her hair into a ponytail and nudged him on the shoulder. “So, can I ask you a question?”

“Anything.”

“Why do you have such an ugly house?”

He looked around. “What are you talking about? This house has imported marble floors and countertops, five bedrooms, top-of-the-line appliances—”

“It’s cold, ostentatious, and butt-ugly.”

He glared at her, then looked around and burst out laughing. “It was the most expensive one in the neighborhood.”

“So that’s why you bought it? ’Cause it was the most expensive? Do you even like it?”

He pondered the question. “Never really thought about it. Haven’t spent enough time in it to like or dislike it.”

She patted his cheek with her palm roughly. “Well, Scarface, think about it. ’Cause I think it’s fucking hideous.” And just like that, his spitfire was back.

“God, I love you.”

She opened her mouth and tried to say the words. Instead, she took her hair out of the ponytail and wrapped the rubber band around her wrist. She leaned forward and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I’m going to find us some food.”

He looked heartbroken for a moment, but then he shook his head and said, “Get dressed. I’m taking you out.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You haven’t seen my favorite spots in Miami yet. And I think we need a nice night out before the big fight.”