Page 61 of Forging Caine

“My relationship with Samantha has nothing—”

“Like that friend of Faith’s I hooked up with?”

“Friend? It was her little sister!” The memory of Lorenzo coming out of her hotel room during our trip to Jamaica made my stomach squirm. Faith had been furious and insisted I do something about it.

“We were both twenty-two.” He pointed at his nose, then swiped the hand through the air, as though to hit me, but thinking better of it. “You broke my nose for that one.”

That had been one more sign about Faith I’d ignored. “But Lucy—”

“Lorenzo!” bellowed Papa as he entered the room. “I was starting to think you weren’t coming. But then I saw the lovely young Lucy with your sister, and I knew you wouldn’t be far behind.”

“They’re just friends, apparently,” I muttered.

“And Antonio? What brings you here today?”

Again, why I thought I could sneak in and out of this place was beyond me. “Samantha and I decided to stay in town for a few more days, and I have a project I want to work on at home.”

“It must be wonderful to be here with her again.” My father clasped his hands over his heart dramatically, like the true romantic he was. So romantic I could almost forget he was the one who forced me to Italia for eight and a half months.

“It is.” Although it would be far better if we were on a remote island somewhere without cell phones, emails, and paintings.

“This project of yours—Sofia didn’t mention having you on the schedule this week. Is it a personal project? Found something interesting underneath one of your own paintings?”

“No, Papa, it’s just—”

“You know, my boy, you can bring it here to work on instead of lugging all the equipment home. I’d love to have you in the studio.”

“I’d rather spend the time at home with Samantha.”

“Of course.” Papa waved over my shoulder and I turned to look out the front glass. “Speak of the angel.”

The universe slowed, and my heart gave a tremendous single beat before continuing with its familiar rhythm. Samantha’s smile built slowly—the stress of the last few days showed on her face, no doubt compounded by meeting with her ex-husband—but the longer our eyes locked, the larger it grew. She’d chosen a stunning black suit with skinny pants and a pale pink blouse for her meetings with Elliot and her SIU team. Her poor hair was confined in a too-professional bun.

The moment we arrived home, I’d have to untie it, comb my fingers through it, and encourage her to relax for what few moments we had before Jason’s arrival.

I hurried to open the door for her, bowing my head as I did.

“So cheesy,” she whispered.

“My love!” Papa made a beeline for her, to kiss her cheeks, as he always did.

But I inserted myself between them and snatched her left hand to cover the ring before he could see our surprise. “Can I tell them?”

“Tell them what?” asked Lucy, as she and Sofia appeared from the studio.

Samantha squeezed my hand, sending a wave of joy through me.

“I wanted to let you all know…” I kissed her hand and lifted it to show them all the ring. “Samantha has agreed to—”

The squeals from Lucy and Sofia drowned out the rest of my words. They ran at Samantha, nearly toppling me over in the process. Sofia assaulted her with a barrage of questions: how long was the engagement to be, where did she want to get married, who would she ask to stand up for her? Lucy spoke over my sister, talking about average engagement lengths, average wedding sizes, and a tradition she witnessed somewhere in Portugal while traveling with her family.

Papa clapped me on the back, his ever-present smile even broader. “Congratulations. Should we call your mother?”

I’d secretly talked to Mamma about this a few times. She even helped with some ideas on how to ask. The fairy lights were her idea. But I hadn’t called to tell her the result. “We’ll come by tomorrow or Wednesday and share the news.”

Lorenzo had remained silent since our argument about Lucy, lurking behind Sofia’s desk. His gaze remained on Lucy, his mood appearing to lift a bit every time Lucy laughed.

Sofia was right. Hedidlook at Lucythatway.

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