Page 18 of His to Love
His embrace wasn’t as tight as it used to be and his skin was speckled with age spots. His bright white hair that used to be full and thick was now just a band that stretched from one ear around the back of his head to the other.
But his smile was still just as kind as his hug.
“It’s good to see you, Claude,” I whispered into his chest. He seemed to have shrunken in the last few years. Or maybe I had grown. It could be the three-inch heels I wore that made me tower over him.
“My bella, Gabriella.”
I pulled back from Claude’s arms and turned around, only to be quickly wrapped in thick arms that had held me more often than my own parents’ had.
“Clarissa,” I whispered and squeezed her tight. She was rounder than I remembered and her hair slightly grayer, but her arms were just as strong as she rocked us back and forth so quickly my heels slid on the tiled floor. “So good to see you.”
“You are too grown up,” she said with a wide smile and a thick Italian accent when she stepped away. “You are still little to me.”
I swiped away tears that sprung in my eyes. My nanny and family chef had always been so good to me. Sneaking me cookies and cupcakes when I was supposed to live on a diet of vegetables and fruit. She tucked me in, sang me songs, and prayed with me when my parents were at one gala or fund-raiser or another. For the longest time, Clarissa was my best friend, despite the fact that she was old enough to be my grandmother. The woman was old and cranky and one of the few people who could talk back to my father. I grew up constantly listening to them bicker about small things, even if it was just the dinner meal. No one else had the balls to do anything that Jimmy Galecki hadn’t commanded besides her. I had always admired her for it, and seeing the fire in her eyes now, I knew that nothing had changed.
I kissed her on each of her cheeks once and smiled fondly. “I’ve missed you, Clarissa. So much.”
She reached out and squeezed both of my hands inside hers. “We have all missed you. The house is thrilled you’re home.”
Based on my interaction with my father this morning, I doubted everyone was thrilled to see me. I flashed an indulgent smile anyway.
I loved her. She always saw the best in people, always wanted the best for me, even when it went against my parents’ wishes. She even kept my relationship with Tyson a secret, and I never once suspected she was the one who told my dad. She wouldn’t have broken my heart like that.
She grabbed my hand and began pulling me toward the kitchen. “Come with me, bella. I want to hear all about Colorado, how you’ve been doing, and if you’re good, I might sneak you dessert while I finish up preparing lunch.”
Eating desserts and getting to talk to Clarissa? I couldn’t think of anything I would rather do. She had an uncanny ability to put everything into perspective, and given that she was one of the only people who I could speak to about Tyson a decade ago, I assumed not much had changed on that front either.
“Do you have chocolate?” I asked, feeling a skip in my step that I hadn’t felt in years.
“Humph. Do I have chocolate?” She shot me a look and continued pulling me forward.
I grinned at her back. I should have known better than to ask the question. When it came to Clarissa, chocolate was always available.
—
“Thank you for lunch, Clarissa.” My father paused to wipe the edges of his lips with a cloth napkin. “It was delicious as always.”
“My pleasure, sir. We’re all so glad Gabriella is home.”
“Thank you, Clarissa,” I told her and turned to my father as he cleared his throat.
Setting down his white napkin, he dipped his chin in Clarissa’s direction as she began clearing the table. Then he stood from his chair, and his serious gaze landed on me. “We should talk in my study.”
Personally, I preferred to put off this conversation for a while. Like…forever.
Unfortunately, being in my old home was like switching on my obedience, and I felt myself nodding in agreement as I pushed away from the table as well.
I followed him to his study, a room that was lined with shelves filled with magnificent books I knew he never read. As a child with a thirst for knowledge, as well as classical romance, I spent hours in this room, sneaking books off the shelves, only to sneak them back before he noticed them missing. He may not have read the books, but he had an impeccable eye and a sixth sense for anything out of place. I learned to read quickly.
I scanned his study, noting that nothing had changed in my absence except for the addition of a few baubles that held significant shelf space. Considering my family has had union leaders and the automobile industry in their back pocket for generations, they were most likely gifts from politicians and business owners.
“How is Mom really doing?” I asked, hating the way my words tripped in my throat. I slid into a chair opposite my father at his desk and clasped my hands together.
“Dying,” my father stated. My head jerked back and my jaw dropped. He shrugged at my shock, blowing it off, but that was how he was. It wasn’t that he was completely unaffected by her cancer. He just had always been a blunt man.
If nothing else good could be said about him, at least it could be said he always loved his wife. I witnessed their passion for years, their undying love and loyalty to each other. He indulged her whims and her laughter when everyone else was kept at arm’s length. Despite my own conflicting emotions about the man, their love still inspired me to find something like that of my own. Someone I couldn’t bear to live without.
“When?” I asked, feeling my throat close and my hands grow clammy.
