56 Days (Black) (12 page)

“Y
ou okay, El?  Need help with anything?” Gemma called from the other room.

Jack
pulled away slowly.  He whispered, “Later.”  He walked to the sink and washed his hands, staring at me. 

“Don’t be
a weirdo.  Get the food and get out here… and nothing deep.  They don’t need to know what you want to name our children, Jack.”

“You want kids with me?” he asked
with a smile while turning off the water.

“Get it together, Conti.  I mean it.”

I went back to our friends, a smile on my face.  I just had to get through the next few hours with them.  How hard could that be?

On Monday
afternoon, I had to listen to Gemma go on and on about Jack.  How smart he seemed, how good looking he was, how much talent he had, how “ripped” he was.  It was ridiculous. 

All I could concentrate on was how, in a few hours, I would have to meet his
parents.  Jack told them about us.  I was a ball of stress, praying that they would accept me.

*
****

I made the walk home, dragging my feet, thinking about what I would wear.  When I got
to the apartment, I had a few hours to myself until Jack was to pick me up.

I shuffled through my closet.  Too low, too short, too tight.  Goddamn it.  I didn’t have “work” clothes because Gemma let me wear whatever I wanted to the bakery.  I was usually in the back, so my slut gear was fine by her.

I finally settled on a just-above-the-knee, lace shift dress.  The color was muted, in a pale gray.  I didn’t wear it very often because I thought it was too long.  Perfect.

I
had worn it with over-the-knee-fuck-me boots before, but, today, I paired it with three-inch, casual red wedges.

I shook out my hair
.  It had been in a bun all day, leaving it a tangled mess.  I ran my fingers through the long strands and tried to tame it to the best of my abilities.  It was wild, but ended up looking pretty good at the end.

I subdued my makeup.  Where I usually wore dark eyeliner and cherry lipstick, I chose a neutral shadow, copper-colored eyeliner and a nude gloss.

There.
  Family-friendly.

Jack arrived right around four.  “Honey, I’m ho
-ome,” he joked. 

Buster barked once and hopped off of the bed.

I came into the living room and did a quick spin.  “Is this okay?”

“You look
great, but you always do.  What happened to your regular clothes?”

“These are my regular clothes.  They’re just a little toned down, I guess.”

“El, wear whatever you want.  Do you like that dress?”

“No,” I admitted.  “I just didn’t want to show up at your family dinner
in a tube top and hot pants.”

“Baby
, go back in there.  Find something you like and then wear that.  If they don’t like you, they aren’t seeing what I see… and besides, they will, I promise.”  He swatted my backside.  “Now, go.”

I groaned and walked back into the
bedroom.

The second outfit consisted of a gray, Donna Karan slub tank, a pair of black
ultra-skinny jeans and my four-and-a-half inch Michael Kors peep toe booties.  I shook out my hair again and pulled on a pair of gold, triple-hoop earrings.  Better
.

When I walked back out, Jack had a smile plastered on his face.  “
Wow.  You look incredible.  Are you ready?”

“Wait,” I called, heading into the bathroom.  I wiped my nude gloss off with a tissue and replaced it with a thick layer of red lipstick.  “Now I’m ready.”

“They’re going to love you, El.”

“
What if they hate me?” I whined.

“No way.  Let’s hit it.”

*****

We arrived at their
small house about fifteen minutes later.  I recognized it immediately.  It was the same one in the photo above his bed… the house he grew up in.

My stomach was in knots.  Jack put the truck in park and squeezed my hand.

“I love you.  Come on.”

I put my hand on his thigh, crushing it, when he went for the door handle.  “Are you sure about this?” I croaked.

“Yes, honey, we’re here.  Don’t panic… you’ll be fine.”  He smiled and opened his door.  “Don’t move, okay?  I’m coming around.”

I sat, staring at my hands nervously for a few seconds.  Jack opened the door and put his hand out.  I took it and shuffled out of the truck.  “Okay,” I murmured.  “Deep breaths.”

“You’re being crazy.”

He held my hand and walked up the short flight of steps, opening the door.  “Mamma!” he yelled.  “Papa!”

I knew they were Italian.  Like actually from Italy… did they speak English?  I hadn’t even asked.  Surely, they did, right?  I mean, his mom was a teacher.  I was panicking now, the smells of home cooking overwhelming my senses.

Jesus, did everyone in this family know how to cook like rock stars?

A woman came around the corner, smiling widely.  She was petite, like me, with short, dark wavy hair and mocha colored skin.  She was beautiful.  This had to be Belle.  She lifted onto the balls of her feet and cupped Jack’s face.  “Always so handsome, my baby.”

I stood there,
feeling uncomfortable, when she turned to me and placed a kiss on my cheek.  She took me into her arms, squeezing gently before pulling away. 

“
Oh, Elsa,” she said, her accent thick, “you are just as beautiful as Jackie said.”

“El, this is my mom.”

She turned me around for a second, taking a closer look.  “My goodness, Jackie, you weren’t lying.  This girl is hot, hot, hot!” she joked, letting out a sweet laugh.

“Wow… thank
you, Mrs. Conti,” I said, laughing.

“No Mrs. Conti.  It’s Belle, okay?”

“Mamma… quit trying to steal my woman.  Hi, Papa,” he said to the man rounding the corner.

Anthony was very tall, maybe three or four inches taller than Jack.  He was
balding a bit and had a little paunch belly, but was still very good looking.  He wore a smile on his face.  “Figlio,” he crooned, giving a hard slap to Jack’s back.

“This is your Elsa?” he asked.

“Yes,” Jack beamed.  “El, this is my dad, Anthony.”

I held out my hand and he took it, nodding his head.  “Such a lovely girl.  We’ve heard such
nice things about you and your sister both.”

“Thank you,” I whispered.  “It’s so nice to meet you.”

I missed having a father.  Mine had died when I was just eight years old.  When Anthony wrapped his arm around my shoulder, it reminded me of my own dad.  I didn’t remember much of him now, but there were moments where I had serious déjà vu.  I envied Jack for being able to have that relationship.

“Sit, babies,” his mother called.  “Food in twenty, okay?  Wine, Elsa?”

I looked at Jack.  “Um… sure.”

He yelled into the kitchen.  “She likes beer, Mamma.  She just doesn’t want to be rude.”

I smacked him on the hand.

Belle poked her head out.  “I do too, baby.  Four beers then, yeah?”

When she came back out, she plopped next to Anthony on the couch, placing all four beers on the coffee table.  She twisted the cap off of one, handing the bottle to Anthony.  She did the same for both Jack and me.

“Salute,” she said, clinking her bottle against Anthony’s.

“Salute,” Jack and Anthony replied.

“Elsa, Jack
ie tells us that you are a pastry chef.”

“Yes,” I replied. “I work at a bakery in Wicker Park, but I’d like to have my own business someday.”

Why did I say that? 
That was a dream, not a conversation.

“Oh, that sounds wonderful,” Belle said, taking a
dainty pull off of her bottle.

“Yeah, but I don’t really have the funds to do that yet.”

Jack smiled; he studied me, looking proud.

“She’ll get there,” he said, grinning at his parents.

“What kind of stuff do you make?” Anthony asked.

“Oh, a little bit of everything,” I responded.

“Yeah?” Belle inquired.  “Like what?”

Oh, God.  Did
she want me to run down a list?

“Um,
I do a lot of wedding cakes, mainly.  But, the shop makes pastries, cupcakes, some cookies… that kind of thing.  French macarons are my real passion though.”

She smiled.  “
Oh, I love them.  They look like little sugar hamburgers, no?  I try to make them myself one time, but I throw the whole batch in the bin.  Terrible,” she replied, throwing her hands in the air.

“
The key is waiting… that and
keeping the air bubbles out.  You’ve gotta smack the pans hard on the counter.  Want me to show you how to make them sometime?”

A smile spread across her lips.  “
Si, amore.  I would love to spend time with you.”

I look
ed down at the table, embarrassed a bit.

“I didn’t make any dessert,” Belle continued.  “What do you say you show me after dinner?”

“Well, sure… I guess.”

Jack reached over and squeezed my hand.  “You have all of the stuff to make those, Mamma?”

“I do.  Like I said, I made them before.”

“Almond flour?” I asked.

“Yes, I think.”

“Perfect.”

*****

Belle was so cute.  She took notes as I talked, paying attention to the most trivial details.  She had been a teacher, so she was obviously a sucker for learning.  Our macarons turned out beautifully
, not a single crack in the batch.

She hugged me so many times throughout the
process; she made me feel loved, after knowing her just a few hours.

When we finished the last batch, Jack came into the kitchen and rubbed my back.  “Babe, we’ve gotta go.  I’ve got to drive to the Edgewater store before we go home.  I’m going to drop a piece off for a guy in the morning and he lives in
Bucktown.  Easier for me to pick it up now.”

“Oh, okay,” I said, making my way to Belle.  “It really was so good to meet you.  Hopefully, I will see you again
soon.”

“Oh, yes, honey, you will.  You live together now, no?”

I blushed.  “Well, he still has the house…”

“Yes, Mamma,” Jack answered.  “Come by.  You’ll love it… everything is pink.”

She smiled.  “No kidding?  Oh, how wonderful.”  She put her hands on my upper arms and pressed a kiss to my cheek.

When we walked into the front room, Anthony got up and put his arms around Jack.  He held on for a long stretch, patting and rubbing his back as he whispered something in his ear.  My eyes stung with tears.  I was way too emotional for this place.

He let go and kissed Jack on the cheek.  “Ti amo, my baby,” he whispered.

He walked to me and took me in a strong embrace.  “And I love you too, sweetheart.  Come visit us again soon.”

I choked back tears and painted on a Hollywood smile.  “Thank you… both of you.”

Jack held my hand as we said our goodbyes and walked down the sidewalk to the truck.  As soon as he
went to open the door, I let out a sob.

What the fuck was wrong with me?

“Hey,” he whispered, turning my face towards his, “what’s going on?”

“Nothing… I just have
PMS or something.”

“Uh huh.”  He wasn’t buying it.  “What’s really wrong, honey?”

“I’m just being a weirdo,” I blubbered.  “Ignore me.”

“I know girls, Elsa.  I never had any sisters, but I did have a mother.  And when she cried, it was never about what she said it was about.”

“Honestly, it’s just dumb.  I guess I just had an emotional roller coaster in there.  Your parents actually love each other and love you… and they were so nice to me even though they didn’t even know me.  I guess it just felt like what a real family should be.”

He leaned in and kissed me softly.  “Lucky you.  You get to be part of it.”

“Yeah, right,” I murmured.

“Hey,” he replied, cupping my face with his hands
.  “You
are
a part of it, I mean it.  You want this, right?  Me?”

“Yeah,” I breathed, “of course.  It’s just that it feels like
some show that I’m watching from the outside.  I’ve been on my own for ten fucking years… literally.  In that time, I’ve had approximately three boyfriends and all of them have treated me like shit.”

I paused, taking a calm breath.  “Then you come along and promise me some kind of fairy tale and I’m just supposed to buy in.  I mean, what do you expect?  I’m not the kind of girl that gets a
happy ending, Jack.  I’m the girl that guys fuck and leave.”

Jack pressed me up against the truck, curled his arm around my waist and whispered in my ear.  “
Hey… you know what my dad said to me in there?  He told me that he was proud of me.  That I had chosen correctly.  His exact words, Elsa.  You are not the girl that I fuck and leave.  You’re the girl that I
marry
.”

*
****

When we pulled up in back
of the store, Jack turned off the ignition.

“I can wait out here, if you want,” I told him.

“You’ve never been inside.  Come with me, El.”

When Jack unlocked the door, he had a series of alarms to disable.  When the last number was punched, the beeping stopped.  He locked the door behind us and grabbed my hand.