Starter Wife (The Jilted Wives Club Book 1), Page 3

  “What about it?”

  Next weekend is his weekend with the kids.

  “I’m taking Bridget to Vegas for the weekend, so I won’t be able to have the kids. You don’t have anything going on, right? So they can stay home?”

  I knew I should be offended at his assumption I had no plans, but since he was right, I let it slide.

  “The kids are old enough to be home without supervision, so technically they could still come to your place,” I said, not because I cared whether they were at my house or his, mostly because he annoyed me, and I wanted to annoy him back.

  “Bridget doesn’t want them at the house when we aren’t here.”

  “Wow,” I replied. “Nothing like making them feel like guests in your home.”

  “Jesus, Whit, why do you have to turn this into a big deal? You wouldn’t want them to be home alone all weekend if you were going to be out of town.”

  I sighed and said, “You’re right. Sorry. But you don’t have to ask me if the kids can stay with me. This is their home, they are welcome here at all times.”

  “I know that, I was simply trying to do the right thing and give you a head’s up now.”

  I gritted my teeth and managed to say, “I appreciate it.”

  “Talk to you later,” Marcus said with a sigh and hung up.

  I looked at the phone and shook my head. It was hard to believe he was the same man I’d spent the better part of my life with. Now he seemed like a stranger. And if I was honest, I still hadn’t forgiven him for blowing up our lives.

  Just the thought of him made me want to punch something. Hard. Instead, I pushed off the counter and headed toward my bedroom.

  Was it any wonder why the thought of ever getting married again made me sick to my stomach?

  I suddenly had the urge to reorganize my closet.

  Six

  Luca

  “Mama, you look gorgeous as always,” I said as I leaned in to kiss both of her cheeks. She smelled of lavender and tomato sauce, which were two smells that shouldn’t go together, but were somehow perfect on my mother.

  “Thanks, sweetheart, so do you,” she replied, beaming up at me in a way that made me feel guilty for missing so many Sunday dinners.

  I took the bottle of wine I’d brought, her favorite, into the kitchen and opened it so I could leave it on the counter to breathe, then turned to greet the rest of my family.

  “Hey, brother.”

  “Vanni, how’s everything?” I asked my brother as we gave each other a quick hug.

  “Can’t complain,” he said as I moved to give his wife a kiss on the cheek.

  “Sara. He treating you right?”

  “Of course,” she said with an easy smile.

  “Char,” I called, moving to my sister, who was holding my three-month-old niece in her arms.

  “Hey, little brother. We’ve missed seeing you.”

  “You know what Dad’s like,” I joked, tentatively touching the baby’s bare arm. “She’s getting so big.”

  “I’m counting down the days until she sleeps through the night,” Charlotte said, her eyes tired but her expression full of love for her firstborn.

  “Is Nigel here?” I asked, speaking of her husband.

  She shook her head and said, “He’s in Chicago on business.”

  “You look good with baby Sky, Luca. Just imagine how wonderful it will be when you have your own baby.”

  “Ma, Charlotte just had Sky, can’t you be happy with her and your other two grandchildren for a while and give it a rest?” I asked with a sigh.

  My mother was always on all of us to fill her house with grandchildren. Giovanni and Sara had already given her two, now Charlotte had Sky, so you’d think her grandmother urges would be satisfied for now. But … nope.

  “I’m just saying … being an uncle is wonderful, but it’s nothing compared to being a father.” My mom patted me on the cheek and moved to the island in the kitchen.

  “Anyone not helping, out of my kitchen,” she said with authority.

  Charlotte and I headed out to go find our father in the family room, but I made sure to snag a fresh roll on the way out, while Vanni and Sara stayed to help Ma with dinner. They both loved to cook, while Charlotte and I did not, so we left them to it.

  “Ah, there you are. Give me my granddaughter,” Dad said as we stepped down into the room.

  He was in his recliner while Peter and Paul, my nephews, sat on the floor as they watched the game on TV.

  “Who’s winning?” Charlotte asked as she gently transferred the baby into our father’s arms.

  “The Giants, of course,” he replied. He was a lifelong Giants fan.

  I crossed to the side bar to pour myself two fingers of scotch. “Dad, Char, want anything?”

  “I have everything I need right here,” my dad said as he made cooing noises at Sky.

  “I’ll have what you’re having,” Charlotte said as she leaned back into the large, comfy sofa with a sigh and closed her eyes.

  I doubted she’d last one minute before she passed out, so I poured her drink and set it on the table next to her for when she was ready.

  I settled on the sofa on the other end, closest to Dad’s chair, and watched the game.

  Dad and I had a strict no business at family functions rule, so we chatted about the game, joked around with the boys, and simply enjoyed each other’s company until Ma gave the call that dinner was ready.

  “Oh, I must have dozed off,” Charlotte said when I got up and touched her on the shoulder to tell her to come eat.

  “You probably needed it,” I said as she stood and picked up her still-full glass. “Dad laid Sky down in the kids room.”

  “Thanks, Pop,” she said, moving to link her arm with his and lay her head briefly on his shoulder.

  “It was my pleasure, sweetheart.”

  “Come on, boys, last one to the table gets the smallest piece of lasagna,” I said with a laugh. There were no small pieces of lasagna. My mother was very generous with her portions. Still, it was enough to motivate my nephews to get up and hurry along to the dining room.

  When I entered the room, intent on getting to my chair and piling my plate with food, I was brought up short when I saw my high school girlfriend was already seated.

  I glanced at my mother, who simply beamed at me, before finding my manners and stepping up beside her.

  “Giada, I didn’t realize you were here. How are you?” I asked as I bent to kiss her cheek.

  “I’m well, thank you. Your mother invited me. I hope that’s okay.”

  “Of course,” I replied as I took my seat. Of course my mother had sat us next to each other. Although she hadn’t been a fan of us being too serious in high school, the fact that I hadn’t had a long-term girlfriend since Giada, had my mother worried. She was convinced I needed to be settled down with a wife and a dozen kids in order to be happy. “What brings you back to the city?”

  “Visiting my parents for a few days. My father’s been feeling under the weather and it’s been a while since I’ve been back home, so it seemed like I was due.”

  Giada had moved away for college and never really came back except for the occasional visit.

  “I’m sure they’re happy to see you,” I replied, passing my plate down so my father could put lasagna on it and hand it to Vanni for salad. We passed the plates around the table, until everyone’s were filled with every dish, before pausing to say grace and dig in.

  There were no special orders or substitutions. If my ma made it, she expected everyone to eat it. So everyone, including the kids, not only had the lasagna and salad, but sautéed green beans, fresh rolls, and would need to save room for desert.

  “While you are all eating, and therefore quiet for a few minutes at least, I have something for your mother,” my dad began, a small smile playing on his lips.

  My mother looked up and across the table at him with an expression of surprise.

  “You do, Giovanni
?” she asked. As the oldest, my brother was named after my father, which was why we called him Vanni … unless he was in trouble.

  “Yes, my dear. For your birthday next month,” he paused for effect, “I am taking you to Italy!”

  Our mother’s eyes got big, before seeming to roll back in her head as she passed out and slid onto the floor.

  “Oh my God!”

  “Mom!”

  “Somebody help her!”

  The room erupted into chaos as everyone moved and shouted. I made it to my mom first and maneuvered her so her head was in my lap.

  “Here.” A cool cloth was placed in my hand and I ran it along her forehead.

  “Ma,” I whispered.

  Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked momentarily confused before giving me a sweet smile.

  “Luca, I had the most wonderful dream,” she said softly.

  “No, it was real, Ma. Dad’s taking you to Italy.”

  My ma shook her head and said, “No, in the dream you told me you were getting married.”

  I chuckled and assured everyone, “She’s fine.”

  Seven

  Whitney

  I was running solely off of coffee and nerves.

  I’d been too anxious to eat anything before getting my kids off to school and myself ready for my first day of work. Instead, I’d downed three cups of coffee back-to-back, which, in retrospect, was probably not the best idea.

  Not only was I extremely caffeinated, but my full bladder made the elevator ride extremely uncomfortable.

  At least I look good.

  Yesterday, while my kids were off with their friends living their lives, I’d decided to splurge on myself. I hit my favorite stores and put a good dent in my saving. The result was the sharp, yet, if I did say so myself, subtly sexy pants suit I was currently wearing.

  It was slate gray with beautiful lines, and I paired it with a pretty pink blouse and matching heels. The last of which I’d probably be crying about later tonight when I soaked my sore feet, but for now I felt fabulous.

  Other than the bladder, of course.

  I smiled absently at people when they got onto the elevator with me as I squeezed myself into the corner and prayed the next twenty stories would go by quickly. Unfortunately, the more people who got on, the more buttons were pushed, so I resigned myself to the fact that the bathroom was a good five minutes away still.

  My leg jiggled periodically, and my eyes stayed glued to red numbers as I watched them increase until finally it hit twenty-five. I breathed a sigh of relief, murmured, “Excuse me,” and turned so I could push my way out.

  Remembering the layout of the lobby from my interview the week before, I spun on my heel and hurried to the right toward the restrooms.

  Just as I was about to reach my destination, relief in sight, a man stepped out of the men’s room, causing me to pull up short.

  “Sorry,” I managed, as I started to walk around him, intent on the door to the Ladies’.

  “Whitney?”

  The sound of my name in that smooth, sexy voice had my head whipping up, even though I knew immediately who had spoken.

  “Luca,” I breathed.

  You know how your world tilts when you see someone in a place you never expected to see them? That’s how it felt to see Luca, looking hot and dapper, in the lobby of my new job, rather than in the restaurant by the jukebox.

  “Hey, it’s good to see you. You look terrific,” he said with an easy smile.

  My bun suddenly felt too tight as the nerves, jitters, and pressure in my bladder came roaring back to life.

  “Thank you,” I said, looking longingly at the bathroom door. “You look great, too. Are you here on business?”

  “Yes,” Luca said absently, his gaze snagging on my heel, which was tapping erratically. “Are you okay?”

  You don’t have to pee ... You’re fine … Don’t think of the water feature by the front desk.

  “Of course, but, if you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment in a few minutes, so I really should get going,” I said, hoping he’d get the hint and turn to leave.

  “I have to get going as well, but I’d love it if you would join me for lunch. Say, noon?”

  “Oh, uh, that’s very sweet, but I’m actually not sure what my plans are yet. Rain check?” I replied, even though I had no intention of going to lunch with him.

  Not only is he too young, but he’s also waaay too good looking.

  Luca nodded, lifted his phone, and looked at me expectantly.

  Shoot.

  I knew I could give him a fake number, but that seemed rude, so I told him my actual number.

  “Thank you. I’ll text you with mine,” Luca said, his eyes seeming to twinkle with victory. Or maybe it was my imagination. Maybe I was hallucinating due to lack of brain activity. “I’m so glad I ran into you. Have a great day.”

  “You too,” I called as he turned to leave. Thank God! I waited a few seconds until he was a few feet away and then hurried into the bathroom.

  As I washed my hands, I vowed to stick to one cup before work in the morning and checked the watch my grandmother had given me before she passed away. Seeing I was two minutes away from being late on my first day, I moved as fast as possible without breaking into a run and made it to Human Resources with seconds to spare.

  “Good morning, Mr. Michaelson,” I called as I entered.

  “Morning,” he said distractedly, not looking up from his computer. “The intake papers are on the table over there.”

  I moved to the table he’d gestured toward and sat down in front of the stack of papers. Two hours later, everything was filled out and I was handing them to Mr. Michaelson.

  “Your immediate supervisor, Paula Dixon, is on leave this week, so I will have you working with one of her colleagues until her return. In the meantime, I’ll briefly show you around and then take you to your workstation.”

  I nodded enthusiastically and followed him out of his office.

  He showed me the breakroom, conference room, cubicles, and my boss’s office. I was introduced to a few people, and everyone seemed nice, except this one guy, Steve, who seemed to be giving me the stink eye.

  “This is where the partners’ offices are and at the end of the hall there is the owner and CEO’s office. Mr. Russo is in meetings, so you’ll have to meet him at a later time, but I can introduce you to his son who is a partner here, and Mrs. Dixon’s boss,” he said as we turned down a long corridor toward the back of the building.

  I smoothed my hands down my jacket, hoping I hadn’t gotten rumpled from sitting for so long, and pasted a smile on my face as Mr. Michaelson knocked on the door, which said, Mr. Luca Russo, partner.

  Oh shit … was running on a loop in my brain as I followed Michaelson inside and looked toward the desk, knowing who I’d see sitting behind it.

  Luca glanced up before leaning back in his chair and grinning widely.

  “What have we here, Mick?” he asked innocently.

  “Luca, this is Mrs. Spaulding, the new hire we spoke about last week.”

  “Actually, it’s Ms.,” I corrected, moving forward with my arm outstretched, unsure if I should let it be known that we already knew each other, or if I was supposed to keep that to myself, now that I knew he was my boss.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Spaulding,” Luca said, standing to shake my hand, before turning his attention to Michaelson. “Mick, you free for lunch?”

  “I’m completely swamped, unfortunately. Wednesday?” he asked.

  “Sounds good,” Luca replied, before returning that smile to me. “Guess it’s just you and me then, Ms. Spaulding.”

  “Oh, I don’t know…” I stammered, looking to Michaelson for help.

  “Perfect,” he said, not helping me at all. “I’ll leave you to it.”

  Before I could protest Michaelson was already walking out the door, obviously happy to have passed me off to someone else.

  I turned back toward Luca, m
y mouth hanging open in shock.

  “Looks like your lunch plans have been set,” Luca said happily.

  And all I could think was … I’m totally screwed.

  Eight

  Luca

  This was turning out to be an excellent day.

  I’d bit the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning while Whitney had fidgeted nervously with her purse strap in the elevator, when she’d shot me a wary look after I held the door of our building for her, and as she’d walked quietly beside me down the busy street toward the deli.

  Should I feel bad that after two rejections I’m using the fact that she works for me to get her to share a meal? Possibly. But do I? Absolutely not.

  I wanted the opportunity to get to know her better, and this would let me do that. It would also tell me if there was anything between us worth pursuing, like I’d initially thought, or if I’d back off and allow our relationship to be purely professional.

  Now that I knew she was working at Russo Accounting, it was something I needed to determine sooner rather than later.

  “Is this okay for you?” I asked when we were in front of the deli. If she wasn’t in the mood for this, there were no less than ten other options within a one-block radius, since our office was nestled in the middle of downtown. “They have fast service and the Rueben’s are fantastic.”

  I saw her eyes light at the mention of fast service and chuckled when she said, “This is perfect.”

  “I thought you’d say that,” I joked as I held the door open for her.

  She hurried in past me and walked straight up to the counter.

  “I’ll have the Rueben, barbecue chips, and a diet Coke,” I heard Whitney say as I caught up to her.

  Before she could pull out her wallet, I reached around her and tapped my phone to the card reader and paid.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” she said, stepping to the side as if she didn’t want to be too close to me.

  “It’s a working lunch. I’ll write it off.”