The Aristocrat Page 8

  It wasn’t until a rogue shopping cart powered by the wind came crashing into us that we were forced to break the kiss.

  He pulled back suddenly as his hands wrapped around my face. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” I blinked as if coming out of a trance.

  He looked dazed, as well, as he moved the cart away and rested it against a barrier.

  When he returned to me, he ran his tongue along his bottom lip, still seeming a bit shocked. “I, uh, don’t know what came over me. I just… That wasn’t supposed to happen. I wasn’t supposed to run into you. And I certainly wasn’t supposed to maul you in a ShopRite carpark.”

  I rubbed my fingers over my mouth. “Are you sure you mauled me, or did I maul you?”

  We shared a smile.

  After a few moments of silence, he said, “Felicity… I know we agreed to not see each other. But I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

  I nodded. “I’ve been thinking about you, too.”

  “You have?”

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  “I’ve spent the past two weeks doing nothing but painting with Bob Ross and eating saltwater taffy.”

  “Bob Ross?” I laughed. “What?”

  “Don’t ask.” He shook his head. “And I don’t think I actually like taffy, either. But it was better than drinking, or worse, getting in the boat and crossing the bay to make a fool of myself by begging you every day to reconsider spending the summer with me. So I opted not to, only to make a bigger fool of myself in this carpark the first chance I got.”

  I was just as much to blame for the PDA fest that just happened. But how was I supposed to go on my merry way now and forget about him after that kiss?

  His eyes seared into mine. “Tell me what to do, because I don’t want to leave you right now.”

  I knew I’d live to regret the words I uttered next. “Do you like cake?”

  His mouth curved into a smile. “Only white cake with whipped cream and strawberries.”

  My pulse raced. “Would you want to come over tonight for Mrs. Angelini’s birthday? We were gonna order pizza, which isn’t the healthiest thing, but it’s a step up from your mac and cheese party.”

  “An evening with you would be a huge step up from that.”

  “Want to say seven, then?”

  “What can I bring?”

  “Just yourself.”

  “What does Mrs. Angelini like to drink?”

  “Fireball.” I laughed.

  “Really? All right. I’ll pick some up.”

  I nodded. “See you later.”

  Just as I was opening my car door, he stopped me. “You might want to take the cake off the top of your car before you drive away.”

  Shutting my eyes briefly, I cringed. “Right. That would be a great idea.”

  After I got in my car, I put it in drive when I should have been reversing, nearly hitting a barrier before catching myself. Why could I never seem to drive around Leo?

  He stood there smiling as he watched me take off. I had butterflies and a feeling of dread all at once. I knew this invitation meant way more than just pizza and cake. I’d officially thrown caution to the wind and invited him into my life. And before I knew it, he’d be gone just as fast as he’d entered.

  The doorbell rang promptly at seven.

  “There’s the aristocrat.” Mrs. Angelini smiled.

  My palms were sweaty as I walked over to open the door for Leo.

  Mrs. Angelini had seemed surprised that I’d invited the Brit across the bay to her birthday, but she didn’t question my sudden change of heart. I think the situation entertained her, to be honest—and that was without me divulging what had happened in the supermarket parking lot.

  Leo stood behind a massive bouquet of flowers. In his other hand, he held a bottle of Fireball.

  “Hey,” I said.

  He moved the flowers out of the way so I could catch his beautiful smile. “Good evening, gorgeous.”

  I stepped aside. “Come in.”

  Mrs. Angelini came up behind me. “Hello, Leo.”

  “You must be Mrs. Angelini. It’s lovely to meet you.”

  “Likewise.”

  “Happy birthday.” He handed her the flowers and the alcohol. “These are for you.”

  “Flowers and Fireball? Truly a man after my own heart. And I suspect a little bird helped you with the choice of liquor.”

  “Indeed.” He smiled over at me.

  “Well, that was amazingly generous. Thank you. My three favorite things start with F: flowers, Fireball, and Felicity.”

  “I think we share the last one in common.” He grinned.

  Damn him and his charm.

  Mrs. Angelini went to put the flowers in the kitchen, leaving us alone in the living room. His eyes fell to my lips. I suspected he was still thinking about our parking lot kiss. I certainly hadn’t been able to think of much else.

  The doorbell rang again, giving me a moment to escape the tension as I answered it. The pizza delivery man removed two large pies from his insulated carrier. I handed him a tip and closed the door.

  “What can I do? Put me to work,” Leo said.

  “Everything is all taken care of. The table is set. The pizza is hot. We can just eat. I made a salad, too.”

  The three of us sat down to dinner. Despite my nerves, I had a pretty big appetite, devouring three slices of pizza and a heaping bowl of salad. The red wine I was drinking helped relax me as the evening wore on.

  Leo spent a good portion of dinner answering Mrs. Angelini’s questions about England. He seemed comfortable talking to her, though I knew going into the details of his life in the aristocracy wasn’t something he loved to do. But Mrs. Angelini always made you feel like she understood where you were coming from. She never made assumptions about people just because her personal experiences were different. I think Leo could sense that about her, and it made him more comfortable.

  At one point, Mrs. Angelini changed the subject.

  “How’s the fundraiser for Mrs. Barbosa going?” she asked me.

  “I’m not sure we’re gonna hit the goal this summer. We’re debating starting anyway, but then we run the risk of leaving it incomplete.”

  “What’s this?” Leo asked, looking between us.

  “Felicity is trying to raise money for a local woman who fosters a few kids. Her house is very small, so Felicity thought it would be a good idea to try to help her build an addition.”

  “What’s your goal?” he asked me.

  “Thirty grand. We’ve raised about twenty since I started the campaign last year.”

  He looked a bit confused. “Thirty grand sounds low for an addition to a house.”

  “Well, it’s technically a garage renovation. The structure is already there. One of her kids has autism. So once we raise the money, two others and I are going to redo that space and have it insulated. Her foster son is Theo. It will be where he does his therapies and has some sensory equipment. Apparently, it gets too noisy in the main house, and it’s hard for him to calm down and focus. So, it’s not like a true addition, more like a glorified shed with electricity and heat.”

  “That’s amazing of you to want to do that. Who’s doing the work?”

  “It’s cheaper if we do it ourselves, but we’re going to have to hire out for the plumbing and electricity.”

  “Who’s we exactly?” he asked.

  “Well, me and a couple friends from high school.”

  “But you’ve raised enough to get started?”

  “Yeah. I think so.”

  “I would love to help while I’m here.”

  “Are you handy?”

  He arched a brow. “Do I give off a vibe that I wouldn’t be?”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted.

  “My father put me to work a lot on our properties. And I actually helped build a small structure in Tanzania on a volunteer mission. So yeah, I’d love to help.”

  Accepting his he
lp meant committing to spending regular time with him. That was risky, but how could I refuse?

  “Well, that would be great.”

  “Good, then.” He smiled. “I’d also like to contribute to the fundraiser.”

  “Don’t feel obligated.”

  “I don’t. I’d just like to.”

  “Okay. I’ll text you the information.”

  “Thank you.”

  Opening my phone, I scrolled down to his name and sent him a link to the fundraising page I’d created.

  Then I stood. “I’m going to go set up the cake.”

  He stood from his chair. “Let me help you.”

  “No. Please. Stay and finish your drink.”

  After I went into the kitchen, I took the box out of the fridge and set the cake on a large, round plate. I opened the package of candles and placed them around the edges. I could hear Mrs. Angelini and Leo laughing in the dining room.

  A few minutes later, Mrs. Angelini snuck up behind me. “He’s adorable,” she whispered.

  “And dangerous…”

  “Because he’s leaving, yes. But that doesn’t make him any less adorable.”

  “I’m trying not to overthink things right now.”

  “You absolutely shouldn’t.”

  Blowing a breath out, I carried the cake into the dining room.

  We sang “Happy Birthday” and spent the next several minutes devouring our generous slices of cake.

  Leo reached his hand to the corner of my mouth at one point, causing me to flinch.

  “Sorry to have startled you. You had some whipped cream on your face.”

  Licking the edge of my lips, I said, “Thank you.”

  Mrs. Angelini smirked. I knew what she was thinking. It was the same thing I was: I was completely screwed.

  * * *

  Leo

  Track 9: “Shout Out to My Ex” by Little Mix

  Felicity insisted on taking our dishes to the kitchen. She wouldn’t let me help, and I didn’t push the issue because I suspected she needed a breather. The intensity between us that had spiraled in the carpark today hadn’t waned in the least. I knew I made her nervous. I only hoped that was because she liked me and didn’t know what to do with those feelings. I didn’t know what to do with all of this, either.

  Our kiss earlier today had knocked me on my arse. I’d replayed it every second of the afternoon. And now that I was here with her, the need for a repeat felt even more urgent than I’d anticipated.

  Mrs. Angelini interrupted my thoughts. “You seem smitten with my girl.”

  I stopped mid-sip. “How can you tell?”

  “You haven’t taken your eyes off her.” She laughed. “I suppose I haven’t taken my eyes off you, which is how I’ve noticed.”

  “I guess it’s obvious how much I fancy her.”

  She smiled. “Felicity is the whole package. She’s as beautiful on the inside as she is on the outside. And she really has no clue just how beautiful she is.”

  “That’s part of what fascinates me about her. And she’s so smart.”

  “She’s also very guarded. But when she opens her heart to someone someday, I know she’ll give that person all of it.”

  I nodded, and an uncomfortable tightness developed in my chest. Maybe because I knew that person wouldn’t be me. And I envied him—whoever he was.

  “It’s clear you and she have a great relationship,” I said. “I think it’s interesting, though, that she insists on calling you Mrs. Angelini.”

  “I’ve tried to get her to call me Eloise for years. Not doing so is a protective mechanism on her part, I think. I’m sure she’s told you about her background. As a child, she allowed herself to get close to caretakers a time or two, and that backfired. I do hope by now she knows I’m not going anywhere. She’s an adult, obviously. Technically, I’m not responsible for her in any way. But she’s the only family I have aside from my brother. So I’d be lost if she ever left me. I need her just as much as she needs me.”

  “That’s beautiful. Truly. I’m glad you found each other.”

  “Don’t hurt her too badly,” she said after a moment.

  Unsure of how to respond, I simply told the truth. “I don’t want to hurt her at all.”

  “But you will. She’s going to let you do it. The fact that she invited you here tonight tells me that.”

  Felicity walked in at that moment, interrupting any further insight I might have gotten from Mrs. Angelini, whose words had left me uneasy. Although, the message was certainly nothing I didn’t already know.

  Mrs. Angelini stood. “Thank you for the birthday dinner, folks. The Fireball is calling me. I’m gonna pour myself a nightcap, head to my room, and read my steamy book.” She winked. “Why don’t you show Leo the rest of the house?”

  Felicity turned to me. “Would you want a tour?”

  “I’d love that,” I said, finishing the last of my wine.

  She then took me through all of the rooms on the first level, which included an impressive library with built-in shelves and an ornate, wooden desk.

  I wasn’t going to suggest she show me her bedroom, but when she began walking up the stairs, I followed.

  We passed Mrs. Angelini’s room and continued down the hall until we reached the end. Felicity opened the door and led me inside. I was glad she trusted me enough to bring me to her bedroom. I was going to remain on my best behavior tonight, but she had no way of knowing that, especially after the way I’d attacked her mouth earlier today.

  Felicity’s room was much more feminine than I might have imagined—not that she wasn’t a feminine beauty, but she’d never come across as a girly girl. I was surprised to find it decorated in pastel colors.

  “So, this is my room. I haven’t changed it up in years. But I love it. It’s spacious and looks out over the bay.”

  There was something very calming about this space. It was organized and held the same quiet elegance she did.

  A series of notebooks in every color of the rainbow caught my eye. They were lined up on a shelf.

  “What are all these?”

  “Those are my planners. They’re all for this year.”

  “I thought most people had one planner, not twenty.”

  She laughed. “I collect them. I don’t know. They make me happy. Planners and stickers. I know it seems crazy.”

  “Crazy? You’re talking to a man who’s been painting with the intention of becoming the next Picasso, when the reality is more like paint by number.”

  “That’s true.” She sighed. “Well, I suppose like your painting, the planners are…therapeutic for me. I feel more aligned when I know what I’m doing and where I’m going on a particular day. Growing up, it was always important for me to feel like I had control over my life, even when I never quite knew where I’d end up. Somehow if I took one day at a time, and wrote down everything that was going to happen, it brought me some solace and lessened my fear about the future as a whole. Like, I’ll check my planner and tell myself, ‘Today, Felicity, you’re going to do XYZ. You don’t need to worry about anything else.’” She shook her head. “And then, of course, that habit transformed into a superficial addiction to colorful planners and stickers. I’m making this sound way deeper than it should be.”

  “No. It makes perfect sense. And I’m learning that when it comes to you, nothing is superficial. There’s deeper meaning behind almost everything.” My eyes wandered to a photo collage on her wall—a city at night, two hands with fingers intertwined, more colorful planners. I walked over to it. “What’s this?”

  Felicity seemed hesitant. “It’s a vision board.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “These are all things I envision in my future, things I want in my life. Visualizing them on a board like this is supposed to help you manifest them.”

  I leaned into the picture. “Is that New York?”

  “Yes. I’m a city girl at heart, even though I grew up by the water. I’d love to li
ve downtown in the midst of all the action someday. In Boston, I lived in Cambridge, which wasn’t quite downtown. It doesn’t have to be New York, though. That was just the example I used.”

  “I don’t have to ask about the planners. I know all about your addiction to those now.” I smiled.

  “Yeah. I don’t know why I threw those in there. For good measure, I guess.”

  The image of the interlocked hands had me most curious. “Tell me about this. What does that mean to you?”

  “It’s not obvious?” She blushed. “Someday I want a partner in crime. The hands represent…trust, not letting go.”

  Of course. The opposite of abandonment.

  “So, even though you’ve said you don’t want to depend on anyone, you do want a life partner.”

  “Of course. I didn’t mean to imply that I want to go through life alone, just that I don’t want to feel like I can’t survive alone.”

  “I understand completely,” I whispered. That feeling in my chest from earlier was back—the one that had developed when Mrs. Angelini spoke about Felicity giving her whole heart to someone someday.

  “If you had a vision board,” she asked, “what would be on it?”

  At the moment? Your face. That’s pretty much it. Letting out a long breath, I took some time to ponder an answer. “I guess when your future seems mapped out, there’s little room for imagination. I’ve never really thought about what I might truly want if there weren’t any restrictions.” I stared at her collage. “But I suppose my board might look somewhat like yours—minus the planners, of course. The bright lights of a city, maybe some pyramids—you know, representing the possibility of traveling the world with no obligations. That would be my ultimate fantasy—to indefinitely have the freedom I’m affording myself right now.”

  “But ultimately, Leo, everything is a choice,” she said. “On some level, you’re choosing your fate for the sake of your family, aren’t you? I respect you for that, even if I can’t relate. I don’t have anyone who depends on me to carry on a family name. I have no responsibility toward anyone but myself. If I were in your shoes, I would probably do the same thing.”