Chapter Five
There were blizzard warnings along the east coast from New Jersey to Maine by the time Emmi showered and came downstairs the next morning. The home had several generators, and she heard from Barb that they were making preparations to ensure they’d be up and running when the power went out.
As long as there was still coffee, she wasn’t concerned about having to limit the use of electricity for a few days. When she walked into the kitchen and heard Digger’s voice, she realized that because he hadn’t been able to make it home last night, he was stuck for the duration.
“Well there she is,” he said. It was only nine in the morning. How were people this cheerful so early? “Sleep well?”
Her parents gave each other dubious glances, no doubt because of the expression on Emmi’s face. She poured a cup of coffee and lifted it to her nose, taking a deep breath. “Not very well. You?”
“Like the dead.”
“Hysterical, Digger. Really.” Emmi stifled a smile. That really was a funny comment. She started to leave the room with her cup, but her father’s voice stopped her.
“What did I tell you last night about being rude? Sit down and eat breakfast with us.”
“I’m not being rude. Honestly. I’m simply not hungry.”
“Since when?”
Ouch. She turned to face them. “Nice, Papa. Real nice.”
“It wasn’t an insult. It was a statement of fact. You never skip breakfast.”
“I do skip it now and then. I’m really not hungry right now.”
“Sit down and have your coffee here, Emilia.”
“Are you leaving because I’m here?” asked Digger.
“No. Because I’m not in the mood for conversation.” Her erotic dreams last night hadn’t led to any clearer answers this morning.
Her mother gave her that look. “We won’t have you back home for long, so we’d simply like to spend time with you. Is that such a terrible request?”
Oh, she’s good. As Emmi took a seat across from Digger, her gaze drifted to his mouth, where a smile played at the corners. Every delicious memory of those kisses and the things he’d said to her came flooding back. Emmi put down the cup before she dropped it. His hair was loose this morning, just as it had been in her dreams last night. He looked more relaxed this way, as if they’d both just crawled out of bed.
“That coffee smells so good I think I need more,” he said.
“Dani will be in soon,” said her mother. “She can refill it for you.”
“I can do it.”
As he rose, Emmi frowned. Whose jeans and sweater was he wearing? “Where’d you get those clothes?”
When he took his seat again, he grinned. “I brought them with me in case I ended up spending the night.”
“Really? You have to say something like that in front of my parents?”
“They know how I feel about you.”
Emmi sipped her coffee as the aroma of pancakes, stacked a foot high on a plate in the center of the table, tempted her. They did smell pretty damn good, and her stomach growled in spite of her earlier assertions she wasn’t hungry.
To distract her thoughts from the knowing way Digger sat down with his fresh coffee and glanced around the table, she speared four of the pancakes and dropped them onto her plate. After that, she piled bacon and scrambled eggs on top of the pancakes, and poured syrup over everything. When Dani came into the kitchen and asked if she wanted something to drink besides coffee, she asked for a large glass of orange juice.
Thank goodness no one said a word about the change in appetite or the amount of food she’d chosen. She wouldn’t have been able to handle it right now.
The entire time she’d been with Sam, her parents had never missed a chance to tell her how wrong he was for her. He hadn’t even been gone a month, and they were already shoving Digger down her throat. Why did they insist on this level of manipulation? It wasn’t going to help her make a decision any faster.
The fact that she’d enjoyed those kisses way more than she’d expected to wasn’t the point. They knew why she didn’t want to be with him. What did they expect her to do? Change how she felt about the business her father and Digger were in? If Sam leaving wasn’t strong enough to do that, she wasn’t sure anything was.
Even big brown eyes and that sexy hair of Digger’s…
“What shall we do with this cold, snowy day?” he asked, grinning at her as if he’d read her thoughts just now.
“Let’s see how long you can stay outside without getting frostbite. That should be fun. We’ll put it on YouTube. My nephews will get a kick out of it. So will Vicki, for that matter.”
“This storm gets much worse and you won’t have any Internet until it’s over,” said her father.
“The Internet doesn’t actually go away, you know.”
“But the connection might go down,” said Digger.
“Kind of wasn’t the point I was trying to make, was it?”
“I could use some help today,” said her mother.
“What do you need help with?” asked Emmi, grateful for the change of subject.
“Putting away Christmas decorations. I promised Eddie I’d do it this year, and since you’re home, you can help me.”
“I’d love to.”
“And so would I,” said Digger.
Emmi glanced from him to her mother, and back again. “I’m sure you have work to do.”
“Not a thing.” He leaned back in his chair. “I’m at your disposal for the duration of this storm. Longer, if you need me.”
“It’s settled then,” said her mother, giving Digger a conspiratorial glance. “You’ll both help me.”
“Why do I get the feeling I’ve just been set up?”
Her father made a sound of disgust. “Emilia, for heaven’s sake. It’s a big house. Your mother needs the help. Stop looking for trouble where there isn’t any.”
“I’m not looking for trouble.”
“What are you looking for, then?”
She swallowed hard. To be left alone to deal with this in my own way. “I’m fine, Papa. As soon as I’m done eating, Digger and I will help take down the decorations.”
“That’s better.”
It infuriated her that he believed it was better for her to agree to spend time with Digger when she wasn’t ready to, as opposed to being allowed to make that decision on her own. When would they ever stop treating her like a child? Or realize that although they hadn’t cared for Sam, she had? Very much, in fact. Digger couldn’t simply swoop in and take his place, as if Sam was nothing more than a pair of gloves she’d lost.
And more importantly, when would she stop being afraid to tell them exactly how she felt? She was torn between guilt and duty every moment of her life. This had been a mistake. She should have stayed in the apartment and dealt with the memories. And she should have stayed in school and dealt with that, too.
But then she wouldn’t have tasted those kisses last night, or heard words that healed her broken heart just a tiny bit for a moment or two. Digger would help her get over Sam, at least physically. But he wouldn’t be satisfied with a casual fling. He’d made that very clear. And neither would her parents.
Was it fair to give into him knowing that’s all it would ever be, when she knew he wanted more? Was it fair to her parents to do that? And was it fair to herself? She wasn’t a prize to be won. She was a human being with feelings and needs.
But so was Digger. He might kill people for a living, but that didn’t make him less deserving of love or affection. She couldn’t give that to him. Sex, yes. Her heart and soul, no. And that’s what he wanted. She’d known that even before he put it out there last night.
Her appetite was gone. Before Dani had a chance to take her plate, Emmi rose and put it in the sink. “Which room do you want to start with?”
“Well, I think upstairs. There are fewer things left up there than down here.”
Emmi stifled a laugh as memories from last night assaulted her once more. “I’ll head up there. Take your time.”
They weren’t too far behind her. She had intended to take down the mistletoe before Digger got upstairs, but he beat her to it. She watched him unhook it and place it in a plastic baggie, wondering how long he thought it would stay fresh. Out of the corner of her eye she caught her mother eyeing the scene, too, with a curious look on her face.
“Mom, are there any decorations left in the bedrooms, or just the hallways?” Emmi wanted to distract her mother’s thoughts from the damned mistletoe.
“Only the hallways.”
Once they finished, they made their way downstairs. Digger and her mother chatted away like old friends, but Emmi stayed out of the conversation unless asked a direct question. Taking down Christmas trees was always nostalgic because her mother decorated them with trinkets and ornaments that reminded Emmi of her childhood. She had saved every blessed thing each of them made in school that could reasonably fit on a Christmas tree, or be hung on a doorknob.
One thing in particular, on the tree in the music room, made her stop and sit for a moment. The snow was now blowing sideways outside, which was kind of pretty, but it also reminded Emmi she was stuck in this house with Digger until it was safe for him to drive home. Under different circumstances, that wouldn’t be quite so unsettling.
She held up the ornament, still able to recall when she’d made it. It had been in second grade, and their assignment was to list the people in their family, including extended family and close friends. They had been talking about how we should remember our family members all year long, not only during the holidays.
It had been a simple yet profound lesson that year, because one of her father’s close associates had been killed by a rival Mob boss. The entire family, plus Digger and other family friends, had gone to the funeral.
Their teacher bound the pages together right at the edges so the end result was a tiny book. Then she punched a hole in the top left corner, and each child threaded colored yarn through the hole so the book could be hung up as a Christmas ornament.
Did they do things like this in public school? She had no clue. Emmi was the product of twelve years of Catholic education. Christmas had been a big deal in school, especially during her younger years.
Carefully, she paged through the book and read the names. Her parents, of course, followed by Nicole, Anna, and Mia. Their cat at the time, Tiger, plus aunts, uncles, grandparents who had still been alive, and cousins. The last name in the book was Digger. Emmi had printed “close family friend” next to his name.
She got an “A+” on the project because of that entry. Her teacher had shown the booklet to the whole class, emphasizing that even people who were not blood relatives were part of our families. Who would he have written in his little book, if he had made one? There was no doubt he considered the LoPresti family his own by now.
Emmi had known him all her life, and not once did she recall him bringing a girlfriend to any family event. Had he even dated? He’d never been married and he had no kids, that she knew of, anyway. What the hell had he done all these years besides kill people, and hang out with her family?
His parents were long gone, he’d had no siblings, and she rarely heard him mention extended family members other than his uncle, Donny Messina. He was all alone in the world without them. She’d never really considered that before. Then again, for the past twelve years, all she’d really considered was Sam. His feelings, his needs, and his music. Sure, she was in law school, but even that had taken a backseat most times.
Even now, with Sam gone, she’d left school for a semester because of him. Because the memories of being with him had been too overwhelming for her to deal with. As she put the ornament in the box with the others, she found herself wondering what Digger thought of her taking a break from school.
Her mother laughed at something he said in the other room. The sound was pleasant, happy, familiar. There was a reason Digger knew so much about her family, and was so comfortable around them. He might as well be blood.
She tried not to picture Sam’s face as it popped into head again. It had floated through her consciousness during the most random times the past few weeks. How does one simply get over a person they have loved for over a decade? How in the hell was Sam able to forget her so easily? Had her parents been right all these years, and she’d been so fucking blind she’d never seen it?
When they parted, it hadn’t been with the understanding that they’d keep in touch, but she had assumed he’d at least text her, or message her on Facebook, or something to let her know he was alive. Let her know how the band was doing. Let her know he regretted his decision to leave her forever.
Other than him letting her know he’d arrived safely in Los Angeles, she hadn’t heard one word. That was the hardest part of all this. Realizing that she’d meant so little to him he’d merely walked away without any regrets. How could he do that? If the past twelve years had been so insignificant for him, why the hell was she sitting here, agonizing over it? Why was she pushing Digger away, when he’d been there most of his life for her entire family?
If only he didn’t do what he did for a living. How in the hell could she reconcile that, when all her life, she’d absolutely hated the business her family was in? How would she ever get past it? Unless she could find a way, there was no chance for her and Digger. At least, not for what he wanted. No chance at all.
For the first time she could recall, that certainty made Emmi sad.