Guess I’ve still got it.
A few hours later, hands aching from the unaccustomed exertion, she laid the guitar aside and rolled her stiff shoulders. Too many years since she’d played this sweet nineties love ballad, and she kept flubbing the lyrics.
“Don’t stop. I want to hear the rest of the song.”
The firepit’s glow didn’t extend much past the deck. She peered into the near darkness but couldn’t quite make out his face. No mistaking that dark-chocolate voice, though. “Matteo?”
He ambled into view and leaned on the fence, his eyes sparkling in the firelight. “You didn’t answer my texts, so I thought I’d cruise by. Hope that’s okay.”
“Crap. I left my phone inside. Guess I lost track of time.”
He hovered at the gate, eyebrows raised.
Uncertain. Just like her.
She beckoned. “I’m glad you came. Join me? I’ll put this away.”
“Don’t.” He climbed the steps, sat on the foot of the chaise lounge, and traced the curve of the guitar’s body with his fingertip. “You have a beautiful voice, Danielle. I didn’t know you played.”
She chuckled. “I haven’t for years.”
“Why not?”
Damn good question. The past few hours had flown by. No intruding thoughts about the divorce, no worries about her kids. She’d fallen into a habit of permanent business, her mind always racing ahead to the next job to be done, the next deadline to hit. But tonight, beneath the velvety summer twilight, she was finally catching her breath—a luxury she wouldn’t have for long.
She cleared her throat. “Mom stuff. Work stuff. You know—life.”
“The rat race.” He slid closer, his thigh against hers. “Don’t let it suck all the juice out of your life, bella. I’ve seen it happen.”
“To you?”
He shook his head. “My dad. When I was little, he used to sing to me. Prettiest tenor voice you’ve ever heard. And when he harmonized with Zio Sal—amazing.” Hands clasped, he gazed into the fire. “But he let that damn car dealership swallow up his life. Forgot about music. Said he’d take it up again someday. Then he died.”
She gripped his knee. “That’s terrible.”
Gaze lowered, he nodded. “Tried to pull me down with him.” He swiped his eyes with his sleeve, but his voice rang flat, not wobbly with sorrow. “I was supposed to study business, take over the dealership when he retired.”
“Not the path for you?”
“Got through two years at U Dub before I dropped out to make furniture.” He huffed a bitter laugh. “Dad said I’d never be able to support a family doing that. But what’s the point of supporting a family if you never see them?”
She winced as if he’d slapped her.
His hand closed over hers. “Hey, sorry. That was stupid of me. You must miss your kids.”
“Yeah, I do. A lot. We’ve been renting this same house for ten years. I keep hearing their laughter, expecting to see them turn a corner and—I dunno, ask me for ice cream.” Her own laugh sounded hollow. “Never enough ice cream. Bottomless stomachs, those two.”
He interlaced their fingers. “This must be so hard. But you’ll come back here with your kids. Maybe later this summer?”
His expression was so hopeful, she simply had to lean over and kiss him. But introducing the kids to Matteo? She and Jason had forced enough change into their lives already. She couldn’t put them through another breakup.
He nudged her shoulder. “You got pictures of them?”
“Sure. And wine. Maybe some food too.” She inclined her head toward the house. “You want?”
His chuckle ended on a groan. “Baby, if you’re near, I want. And yeah, I could eat.”
They assembled a quick picnic of crusty bread, salami, cheese, olives, and strawberries. Matteo carried it out on a tray to enjoy by the fire. Danielle brought quilts from the empty bedrooms, along with wine and glasses. While he uncorked the wine, she pulled up photos of her kids.
