SWALLOW MY PRIDE
ANTONIO
When my cab drives past the pizzeria, I can’t help myself. I look out the window and see the new sign over the shop: PRINCESS PIZZA. She changed the name to Princess Pizza, with a bright-pink fucking sign.
Fuck . . .
My chest tightens, and nausea rolls in my stomach. Seeing the new name on the shop doesn’t hurt—it kills. It’s been two weeks, two fucking weeks, since I’ve seen Libby. In that time, I’ve gone from being pissed at her to pissed at myself. I fucked up. I let my anger get the best of me, and I walked away when I should have stuck around. I should have let her explain. Hell, I should have let her explain all the times she tried to talk to me about the pizzeria before I found out she was buying it. I never did. Every single time she started to bring up the shop, I would shut her down. I didn’t want to hear her tell me that she thought I should take it over from my parents, that she thought I was making a mistake. I had put her right into the same box with my ex and closed the fucking lid on them both again.
I rub my palm against my chest to try and get rid of the pain there, even though I know it’s useless. Somehow I ended up falling in love with Libby. I don’t know how it happened or when it happened, but there is no denying that I love her. I love her. And now . . . now I don’t know how to get back to where we were before I so royally fucked things up between us. Honestly, I’m scared as hell that she won’t want me back when I finally get up the courage to go to her.
“You’re here,” my cab driver says when he pulls up in front of my parents’ place.
I haven’t only been avoiding Libby these last two weeks—I’ve also been avoiding my parents. I always felt like the pizzeria was the one thing in life that my parents and I disagreed about. My dad and mom have always loved the shop, and I have always resented it for taking them away from me when I was growing up. Over the years, I have become so focused on the bad that I forgot about the good times I had at the pizzeria as a kid. I forgot about my dad teaching me to make pizzas, forgot about my mom throwing me birthday parties at the shop, forgot about any sports team I was on eating for free after each game. I also knew my father was disappointed in me for not following in his footsteps. That guilt I’ve been carrying around only seemed to get heavier when he had his heart attack. He said he understood my reasons for turning down his offer, but I could still see the defeat in his eyes when he told me he and Mom were going to sell the shop.
Making it up the brick steps, I ring the bell. I wait with my hands tucked in the front pockets of my jeans. My mom peeks through the side window, and a relieved smile lights up her face.
“You know you don’t have to knock or ring the bell. I gave you a key for a reason,” she says as soon as she opens the door.
“I left my key at home,” I explain as I bend down to kiss her cheek. “Is Dad around?”
“Yes. He’s here. He’s in the living room, yelling at the television.”
“Who’s playing?”
“A red team and a blue team; that’s about all I know,” she says with a laugh as I follow her to the living room.
My dad is indeed yelling at a soccer game on the TV. As soon as I step into the room, though, he reaches for the remote and shuts it off.
“Took you long enough to get here,” he says by way of greeting.
The tension I’ve been holding on to releases instantly.
“Sorry. I should have come sooner.”
“You should have,” he agrees. He gets up from his recliner and walks toward me. Meeting him halfway across the room, I wrap my arms around him.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not me that you need to apologize to,” he says gruffly, pounding his fist into my back.
“I know,” I agree when he lets me go.
“She’s a good girl. I hope you figure out a way to forgive her for not telling you, but I want you to know now that I get why she didn’t. You’re not the easiest person to talk to when it comes to discussing the pizzeria.”
“She tried to tell me. I just didn’t want to listen,” I admit.
He shakes his head, takes a seat back in his recliner. I take a seat across from him, on the couch.
“What are you going to do to win her back?”
“I don’t fucking know.” I scrub my hands down my face. “I fucked up, big-time. I’ve been hiding like a coward since then.”
“My son’s not a coward,” he states firmly. I meet his gaze. “You need to go to her.”
“What if she says she doesn’t want to see me again? Worse, what if she tells me to fuck off?”
“I can’t imagine Libby saying that,” Mom offers as she comes into the room and sits next to me.
“Have you seen her?” I ask, looking at her.
“I saw her this morning. I went to the shop to help her with a few things in the office that she didn’t know how to do,” she says. She reaches over, taking my hand in hers. “She’s doing as well as can be expected.”
“I miss her,” I say, fighting the urge to rub the palm of my hand against my chest right over my heart. “I love her.”
“I know you do,” Mom says sympathetically, giving my hand a squeeze. “She renamed the shop Princess Pizza. I think that tells you something about the way she feels for you, too.”
“I saw the new sign,” I admit. “It’s really pink.” I laugh, and it sounds rough and foreign.
“This is Libby we’re talking about. She’s all about being a girl. I think it’s going to be a hit. She’s bringing something new to the neighborhood and the business. Your father and I have been really impressed by her plans.”
I’m not surprised. She’s got a good head on her shoulders, and she’s a hard worker. I know that with her running the shop, it’s going to be successful.
“Go to her. Talk to her,” Dad says. I look at him. “She’s probably at the shop right now. She’s been there every day, getting things ready for the grand reopening.”
“When’s that?”
“In two days,” Mom says. “She’s having a big party to celebrate. Your dad and I will be going to show our support. Maybe you can come.”
“Maybe it’s best I talk to her before then. I don’t want to ambush her at her party and ruin it for her.”
“Either way, I’m sure she’d like to see you,” she says solemnly.
I let out a deep breath.
“Are we okay?” I ask, looking between my parents. My dad frowns while Mom’s brows pull together. “I know you were both disappointed in me for not wanting to take over the shop. I hate that I let you both down.”
“You haven’t let us down. We’re proud of you, proud of the kind of man you are. All we want is to see you happy, Antonio. We would never try to force our own dreams down your throat.”
“I am happy—or I was.” I was happy until I ruined things with Libby, until I proved to her once again what an asshole I can be.
“You’ll get Libby back and find happiness again, son,” Dad says quietly.
Fuck, but I hope he’s right.
If he’s not, I don’t know what I will do. I thought that I loved my ex, but it didn’t feel like this. I’m in love with Libby. I know that if I can’t find a way to get her back, I will never find the kind of happiness and love that she gave me again.
“I’ll go talk to her.”
I get up and hug both my parents before heading out the door and catching a cab.
When my driver parks across the street from the pizzeria, I start to pay my fare, but then I see Libby walk out of the shop wearing a pair of tight blue jeans and a simple long-sleeve T-shirt. Her hair is tied up in a bun, and her face is clean of makeup. She looks over her shoulder at a man walking out of the pizzeria behind her and smiles at him.
Walter . . . ? What the fuck is he doing with her, and why the fuck is she smiling at him?
I fight the urge to get out of the cab and bash his face in.
I absently rub my chest over my heart as they head down the block.
She’s moved on. She’s already moved on. I let things go too long, and she started seeing someone else. How the fuck did I lose her already?
“You gonna get out, man?” the cab driver asks.
I pull my attention away from Libby and shake my head.
“No, I changed my mind.” I give him directions back to my place.
When I get home, I change into a pair of sweats and a T-shirt, then head out for a run. I need to get out some of the rage coursing through me. I know that if I don’t get rid of it I’m liable to do something completely stupid, like go to Libby’s apartment, kidnap her, bring her back to my place, and tie her to the bed until she forgets all about stupid fucking Walter.
Two days later, I’m parked in front of Princess Pizza and wondering what the hell I’m doing. The last two days have been hell. I haven’t slept and barely ate. I’ve spent most of my time trying to convince myself that if Libby is over me, then I need to get over her. But no matter what I say to myself, I can’t do it. I’m in love with her, and it’s time that I prove that by fighting for us. I called my mom this afternoon and asked her what time the party was this evening. Paying the cab driver, I get out and head into the pizzeria.
The space looks completely different from the last time I was here. The walls have been painted two different shades of pink, and there are new tables with black tops and chrome seats. Colorful framed paintings hanging around the room look like they were done by little kids. Fairy-tale castles, dragons, princesses and princes, horses and unicorns. I pull my eyes off the new art on the walls and scan all the happy faces in the room. I have no idea how the fuck I talked myself into this.
Right . . . for Libby.
My eyes zero in on her as soon as she steps away from an older gentleman. My heart starts to pound hard against my rib cage. She looks beautiful tonight. She’s wearing a long black dress that’s tied at her waist. Her dark hair is down around her shoulders, and her face is made up almost like it was the night I took her out for our first date. I pull in a few deep breaths to build up the courage I need to do this.
She must sense my eyes on her, because her gaze comes directly to me. Her eyes widen, then fill with worry and fear.
“Antonio.” I hear her whisper my name even over the noise in the room. It feels like time stops as we do nothing but stare at each other.
Without telling my feet to do it, I take a step toward her. My hands start to shake. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Walter standing with a group of people. I turn to glare at him, ignoring the knowing grin he’s wearing before I return my attention to Libby.
“Antonio. What are you doing here?”
“We’re at the part where I need to beg for your forgiveness,” I say.
Her body goes still, and even her breathing seems to stop. Closing the distance between us, I go to her and get down on my knees. I take both her hands in mine. I don’t give a fuck that everyone in the room has stopped talking. All I care about is the woman in front of me.
“There’s this guy. He met a girl, a perfect girl. The perfect girl for him, and he was a jerk to her.”
“Antonio.” Her eyes close as her hands start to shake, so I hold her more firmly.
“That girl hopefully fell in love with that guy—despite the fact that he doesn’t deserve her.”
“She did.” Her eyes open to meet mine.
“That guy was an idiot.” I shake my head. “He was self-centered, selfish, and in the end, an even bigger jerk to the girl. He should have taken better care of her.” Tears start to fill her beautiful eyes. “He probably made her cry a lot.”
“He did,” she tells me. “He also made me drink a lot,” she says with a shy smile.
“I hate that, Princess,” I whisper. “I hate that I made you cry. I hate that I fucked up. I hate that I walked away from you.” My throat starts to get tight with emotion. “I’m so sorry, Princess. So fucking sorry that I didn’t listen when you tried to talk to me. Sorry that I didn’t trust you the way that I should have. I love you, Libby. Please forgive me for being an asshole.”
“I’m sorry, too, you know,” she says as tears start to track down her cheeks. “And of course I forgive you. It’s my job to take you back even when I shouldn’t.”
She whispers the last part, and I bury my face against her stomach while I wrap my arms tightly around her waist. Her body curls around mine, and her mouth rests against the top of my head.
“I love you, Antonio.”
“I love you, too, Princess. So fucking much.” I stand and gather her tightly against my chest when I hear her sob and feel her tuck her face into my neck.
“Show’s over,” someone says loudly.
I pick her up and carry her to the office, through the crowd of people. I kick the door shut with my foot once we’re inside. I don’t look around to see the changes she’s made; I just take a seat on the couch and hold her in my lap, running my hand up and down her back.
“Princess Pizza?” I mutter.
She giggles, and the sound slides over me, smoothing out all the jagged edges the last two weeks have cut into me.
“I’m in love with a guy who calls me Princess, so I thought it was the perfect name for the shop,” she says.
I look at her smiling face.
God, I love her so fucking much.
“Walter can’t have you,” I growl without thinking, tightening my hold on her.
“What?” She frowns, and the small smile on her face just moments ago disappears with my statement.
“You’re mine.”
“I know I’m yours,” she agrees. “Why are you even talking about Walter?”
“I saw you with him.”
“You saw me with him?” she repeats, looking confused. “He’s here with Palo.”
“Not tonight. A few days ago. I saw you with him here at the shop. You were coming out, and he was with you.”
“Oh . . .” Realization fills her beautiful eyes.
“He can’t have you,” I repeat.
Her eyes soften as her hand comes to rest against my jaw.
“He was just checking on me. The last time he saw me, I had just gotten my heart ripped out of my chest, remember? He was worried, but we’re not . . .” She shakes her head. “I wouldn’t. I don’t want anyone but you.”
Hearing that, I close my eyes. “I thought . . .”
“Never,” she states firmly. Our eyes lock. “I don’t want to be with anyone else but you.”
“I can’t believe you love me.”
“Well, I do. So don’t be an idiot. Walter is just a friend and nothing more.”
“A friend?” I grumble, and she laughs.
“Yes, he’s a friend.”
“Are you saying I might have to see him more than just tonight?”
“He lives in LA. I doubt you will see him much, but he’s a nice guy. You’d like him if you got to know him.”
“I don’t think I like that.”
“Do you love me?” she asks softly, running her hand through my hair.
I focus on her. “More than anything in the world.”
“Then you’ll deal.”
“If I have to,” I agree reluctantly as I study the way her hair is sliding over her shoulder. “I’ve missed you, Princess. These last two weeks have been hell.”
“You could have ended that torture at any time.”
“I should have swallowed my pride and come to you sooner. I’m sorry that I didn’t listen when you tried to talk to me. I’m sorry that I kept shutting you down when you brought up the shop.”
“Are you going to be okay with me owning the shop?” she asks, sounding nervous.
I skim my fingers down the side of her face.
“It’s going to take time for me to wrap my head around you owning the shop, and we are going to have to talk about things,” I tell her.
She goes rigid on my lap.
“What do you mean, talk about things?” She kind of turns, and it feels like she is going to get up, but I just force her back down.
“What I mean is that I will not sit back and see this place take over your life—our life. I will not sit back and watch it pull you down.”
“Antonio . . . ,” she says softly. This time her hand comes out and cups my face. “I promise you, here and now, that I will never put this place before you. I promise that you and I will come before Princess Pizza.”
“When we have kids . . . ,” I murmur, ignoring her eyes getting big and her body tensing.
“When are we having kids?”
“I have no idea. But when we do—” I start to say as she puts her fingers on my lips.
“When we do have kids, my main focus will be them. Always,” she tells me. “I’m just happy you’re here now,” she says, then her eyes drop to my mouth. “You know you’ve forgotten a big part of your apology.”
“What’s that?”
“In the movies, the guy always—but always—kisses the girl when she forgives him.”
“Then I’d better get to that part.” I slant my head and kiss her long and hard, so long that at least five different people knock on the door before we finally stop making out. And when we go back out to her party, we do it hand in hand.