Seduced by Sunday (38 page)

They talked about how she was feeling, cravings for the drug she’d held a brief addiction to. She told him of her move to California and he found a list of doctors to follow up with when she got there.

Dr. Hoyt studied the floor, or maybe his shoes, but he stopped meeting her eyes when he cleared his throat. “I-I ah, I know you’ve been through hell. But I need your permission about something.”

Doctors seldom stuttered, and Dr. Hoyt, who had to be in his late sixties, seemed seasoned enough to speak in complete sentences.

“My permission?”

“It’s about your husband.”

She shuddered. “Don’t call him that.”

“Sorry. It’s about Mr. Picano.”

His image, the one of him smiling as the needle slid in . . . “What about him?”

“His brainwaves are nil, the ventilator is keeping his vital organs moving . . . without it, he will die.”

Good. The world would be a better place without him. “What do you want of me?”

“Permission to remove him from the ventilator. The family in Italy has refused to speak to us. We can obtain a court order, but it would be better if you’d allow us to remove the breathing tube.”

You need to work through this to get over it, Gabriella.
The therapist’s words sounded in her head.

Closure . . .

Finding her backbone, Gabi stood. “Take me to him.”

Dr. Hoyt’s eyes grew wide. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“You want me to pull the plug, that’s what it is, right?”

“Essentially.”

“Then take me to him.”

It was clear by Dr. Hoyt’s stance that he wasn’t sure what to do.

Gabriella followed alongside Dr. Hoyt, up the elevator, back into the ICU where she herself recovered the first week she was in the hospital. She’d been too disoriented at the time to realize the man who put her there was feet away . . . that the same staff caring for her was taking care of him.

The bastard didn’t deserve it.

A hush went over the staff when they saw her enter the unit. Another doctor stood behind a nursing desk, and moved quickly to follow them into the private room surrounded by windows.

She braced herself, wasn’t sure what to expect when she lifted her eyes to the man who had nearly killed her.

He was hooked up to more machines than she knew existed.

His face was swollen, nearly unrecognizable; the pasty color of his skin was slick with sweat. The smell of the room was a mixture of the powerful cleaners they used on every floor and death.

She stepped closer, noticed the staff gathering behind her, watching her.

Any connection to the man she’d wanted as her husband, as the father of her children, was gone. How could that be? She thought she’d loved him, at one time. The feeling had never been mutual, she knew that now . . . but it had been real for her.

Or maybe that, too, was an illusion.

He deserved this. Living in a state of not alive and not dead.

The vindictive part of her wanted him to be aware, even if a little bit, of the state he was in.

“Can he hear me?”

One of the nurses answered, “They say that hearing is the last to go.”

She moved close, leaned over the bed, and felt her skin prickle. He couldn’t hurt her now, but she still shuddered.

“Can you hear me, Alonzo?”

Nothing.

“May God have mercy on your soul.” She paused and said what she truly felt. “Because if it were up to me, you’d burn in hell.”

She twisted on a heel, grasped the paper a nurse handed her, and signed her name. “Pull the plug, Doctor.”

The words left her lips and someone behind her shut down the machine.

The room grew silent, and Gabi walked away.

Alonzo died, officially, twenty minutes later.

Chapter Thirty-One

Gabi was a natural . . . once she remembered where she’d put her smile.

Who knew a woman who’d been sheltered, pampered, and cared for all her life would jump into a full-time job as easily as she did.

Meg knew it was all about distraction, but it seemed to be working. Watching her new friend come back to life was a slow, sometimes agonizing process.

Their first few weeks in the Tarzana house together met with daily phone calls from Val or Mrs. Masini. If Meg wasn’t there to talk with Val, he would text her . . . remind her he was thinking about her.

He’d offered to fly out and visit, but Meg kept putting him off. “Gabi needs a complete break. She’ll let you know when to visit.”

“I want to see you.”

“I don’t do long distance,” she reminded him, not really feeling the words that left her mouth.

“Is that why you sent three text messages yesterday, one with a picture of Michael and Ryder sipping wine?”

“I just thought you’d like to know that everything is working out,” she defended herself. Ryder had moved in with Michael, though with the “friends” angle. Meg had never seen Michael happier.

“You want to share your day with me,
cara
. I know the feeling. By the way, Jim sends his love.”

Meg found herself smiling into the phone. “Did he offer marriage again?”

Val grumbled.
He’s so easy.

“He did, didn’t he?”

“You’re taken.”

“I am, am I?”

“Yes.”

She wanted to see him, desperately. But was afraid walking away again would be impossible. Her life was in California, she kept telling herself. His was not.

Meg heard Carol talking in the background before Val said, “There’s trouble in the kitchen I have to take care of.”

“Go. I have some last-minute touches on Eliza’s baby shower I need to attend to.”

“
Ti amo, bella.
Think of me when you close your eyes tonight.”

The brat, now she would only think of him . . . his lips . . . his touch. “Good night, Val.”

Having a home without tiny feet running around made it easy to decorate and prepare for a baby shower. Sam and Eliza insisted on having the shower in the Tarzana home. Between Gabi’s and Meg’s efforts, they’d prepared a massive pot of homemade pasta, and the sauce was simmering on the stove long before the first guest arrived.

Blue and pink balloons filled the corners of the room, and flowers, candy, and cakes sat on top of every table. Spiked and unspiked punch sat in two different crystal bowls. It was silly and sweet, and perfect for an expectant mom. The guest list for this shower was limited to immediate friends and family. Not that Eliza had any of her own, but her mother-in-law, Abigail, arrived with Eliza and Sam. Behind them, Karen and Judy shuffled in with Gwen. The small Tarzana house was overflowing with less than a dozen guests.

Everyone talked at the same time, made a great show of patting Eliza’s expectant belly, and laughed, even Gabi.

The two most likely to fall into the baby world were Judy and Karen, who were doing their best to avoid the questions of when. Meg knew Judy wasn’t quite there yet, but Karen seemed to be eyeing Eliza’s stomach with longing.

“How do you like California, Gabi?” Gwen asked.

“Dry. I like it.”

“The East Coast is sticky,” Eliza agreed.

“But green,” Meg offered. Not to mention that was where Val lived. What was he doing at that moment?

“Hmm . . .”

“What?” Meg asked Judy.

“Nothing,” she replied.

Meg shook her head and glanced at Gabi. Only she was watching Karen stroke Eliza’s belly as the baby kicked.
Longing?
Had Gabi wanted children with Alonzo? Had he destroyed those dreams, too?

Meg took Gabi’s arm. “Let’s see if I’ve screwed up your mother’s recipe.”

The distraction worked. When they set out the food, Gabi was smiling again.

They ate, played silly games, and gathered to watch Eliza open dozens of gifts for her unborn child.

Meg watched with interest, but her head . . . her heart wasn’t
there. It had been over a month since she’d seen Val. Getting over him wasn’t happening. Maybe she should tell him to come. Maybe she should jump on a plane. As she sat in a room full of happy women, most of which were married to loving, wonderful men . . . Meg wanted to join them.

“Earth to Meg?” Judy said with a wave in front of her eyes.

The room had grown silent and everyone stared at her.

“Where are you?” Sam asked with a smile.

Her eyes started to sting with moisture. “I-I think I’m in Florida.”

Gabi reached over, took her hand. “Then why are you here?”

She offered a sad smile. “For you . . . for Alliance. This is where I live.”

“But your heart is somewhere else.” Sam was as wise as she was beautiful.

“I’m trying to stop thinking about him. Long-distance relationships don’t work.”

Sam laughed. “Blake is in Europe right now. Won’t be home for two weeks.”

“You’re married, it’s different.”

The air in the room thickened and the attention moved off the expectant mom to Meg. “You won’t know if Val is marriage material if you don’t spend more time together,” Judy said.

Only Meg did know he was the right material. She loved the man, but was afraid to tell him. Sadly, she fell into the group of women that wanted to hear the words come from him first. Maybe then she would believe they could do this long distance . . . or make a different arrangement.

Gabi squeezed her hand. “You’ve given me plenty of sound advice I needed to hear from the moment we met, so let me give you some. My brother loves you.”

Meg scoffed.

“And you love him.”

She snorted, tried to deny it. The women in the room shook their heads, rolled their eyes.

“Nothing else matters.”

“You matter. My job.”

Gabi’s sad smile made Meg pause. “I’m OK, Meg. I appreciate your desire to help me survive the summer, but how do you think it would make me feel to know I destroyed your chance of holding on to love?”

Oh, God . . . she was right.

“As for your job . . . Eliza has successfully found clients and helped manage the business from Sacramento. Gwen continues to scout clients when we’re in Europe and during social events.”

Karen tipped back her spiked punch. “I managed the phones and assisted clients the entire time you were in Florida.”

“The point is,” Sam said, “Alliance might have a home base here, but we’re everywhere. A second office in the Keys sounds good to me. I love that part of the country.”

Judy nudged Meg’s arm. “So, do you have another excuse or hurdle to jump over, or should I call the airlines?”

Her fingers tingled, her heart knocked a few times in her chest. “I-I need to pack.”

Gwen sat back, crossed her legs as if she’d just signed a multimillion-dollar deal. “Not really. Lingerie maybe.”

“And condoms . . . unless you want this.” Eliza patted her stomach.

Meg stood, felt doubt creep in. “What if it’s a mistake?”

“What if it is? You won’t know if you don’t try. Since when are you a quitter?” Judy’s challenging tone made Meg’s feet move.

Twenty minutes later, Eliza’s driver was tossing her suitcase into the back of a limousine and she hugged her friends good-bye.

Gabi watched Meg leave and was the last to return inside the house.

Her new friends gathered to help Eliza unwrap her gifts and eat cake. They laughed, shared stories, and gave Gabi advice about the neighborhood. More importantly, over the last few hours, she didn’t think of Alonzo once.