Sweet Talk Boxed Set (Ten NEW Contemporary Romances by Bestselling Authors to Benefit Diabetes Research plus BONUS Novel) (79 page)

“I’ve been dreaming of your pasta for the past week; that has to tell you something.” Marcus grinned, but Marcello was looking at the ring on Charlie’s finger. He reached for it and held her hand high, examining the diamond before whistling his approval.

“I’m the caterer, yes?”

“Um, hello,” Charlie teased, “I assumed the reception would be held here.”

“Of course, of course!” Marcello belly-laughed, drawing the attention of other guests before he placed his arms around them both. “When is the big day?”

Charlie looked at Marcus before she replied. “We haven’t set a date yet.” She noticed the way Marcus’ lips pursed as if he wasn’t happy with her reply.

Marcello rubbed his chin. “How is Diane?” he asked, his face grave with understanding. “Still okay that I send her meals every so often?”

“She loves them, and I do eat with her. Thank you. The nurses are all quite jealous, but your cheesecakes make it up to them.” She didn’t have the heart to tell him Diane ate only nibbles of the food he sent. Her medication lessened her appetite and sometimes even made her nauseous.

As they sat down, Charlie looked around the place. Diane and Brian had discovered Luigi’s when it first opened, a few years ago. From the moment they’d entered the restaurant, they said they’d both felt like they’d stepped backward into another time, another place, and that was exactly how they’d sold the place to all their friends when they talked about it. Marcello had transformed an old cowboy-boot factory into a rustic Italian eatery, with exposed beams, a main-area fireplace, black-and-white photos of the “old country,” and a few areas to sit comfortably on leather sofas and chairs that ran alongside the dining area.

Diane introduced Charlie to Marcello once while she was home visiting, and it had been love at first taste. The first time she brought Marcus with her to meet both Diane and Brian, they’d come here for dinner, and since then it was just assumed that Luigi’s would always be part of their visits home.

There was a connection between Diane and Marcello that Charlie never understood, until Walter confided in secret that Luigi’s had been about to go bankrupt, but thanks to some savvy marketing advice from Diane, he’d turned a profit within months and forever claimed she’d saved his restaurant.

Diane used to come after a long day at work and just relax. She once confessed that she’d escape during the day for a glass of wine, and because of this, Marcello had created a little area specifically for her to relax in. He’d asked for her help in creating a little sitting area, so she’d shown up one day with a leather chair and footstool, a few side tables, lamps, a framed mirror, and even a small bookshelf and convinced Marcello to add in an electric fireplace. Every so often Diane would bring in books and leave them there, sometimes left open, other times with a bookmark. It was her little touch, she’d say. A little touch in her little heaven.

Marcus pulled out Charlie’s chair at the table in the far corner and waited for her to sit before he sat down opposite her. There was a gentle silence between them as they waited for their wine to arrive.

“Are you getting tired yet?” Charlie asked. It was a silly question, because she could see the exhaustion starting to set in.

“I won’t object to a quiet evening at home after this; that’s for sure. Maybe catch up on a movie that I can fall asleep to while we snuggle. It’s been a while since we’ve done that.”

“I think I can manage that.” Charlie smiled while toying with her wineglass.

“Are you ready to tell me about the box yet? And how it connects to Diane?” Marcus studied her, and she blanched.

Where did she start? With her childhood, and explain how her mother suffered from postpartum psychosis and killed herself and her baby? Or with Diane living in a fantasy world where she loved a doll as if it were her own child?

“Start with Diane.” Marcus leaned back in his chair, brows raised as he waited for her.

Charlie rubbed her hand down her pant leg and then across the back of her neck before biting her lips. She knew Marcus was reading her, and she’d just exhibited classic signs of being nervous, but she was and she couldn’t hide it.

“It’s more than just postpartum depression, Marcus. It’s psychosis, and the shock therapy doesn’t seem to be working.” Her stomach flip-flopped while she waited for his reaction, but all he did was nod.

“The box...” She swallowed hard and could have sworn jagged pieces of glass jammed the inside of her throat. “The box contains memories from my past that I’ve tried to ignore.” She went to pick up her glass, but her hand shook so much that she didn’t bother. Marcus leaned forward and reached for her hand, his thumb gently rubbing along her skin. His touch helped to calm her nerves somewhat.

“My mother had postpartum psychosis as well, but was untreated, and”—she glanced around and lowered her voice, not really wanting others to hear—“not only ended up committing suicide but...” Her chest tightened, and it became really hard to breathe, so she sucked in as much air as possible so she could finish. “She smothered my baby brother to death to stop his cries.” The words rushed out.

There. She’d said the worst she’d had to say. Her body went numb at the brief telling of her story, and she could have sworn the room was spinning.

“Charlie?” Marcus’s voice sounded funny, as if he were beside her, behind her, and across the room all at once.

Charlie swivelled in her chair to find him, but she must have leaned too far, and the next thing she knew she was falling to the ground.

#

“Marcus!” Charlie sat up with a start and called out her fiancé’s name.

“I’m right here, love. It’s okay.” His soothing voice calmed her, and she glanced around, only to find him beside her. She must have been using him as a pillow.

She half turned, tucking her legs beneath her. They were in the loft area of Diane’s house. She must have been lying on the couch; there was a blanket tucked around her legs, but she didn’t remember leaving Luigi’s and coming home.

“You passed out at the restaurant, so I brought you here,” Marcus said to her.

“I was passed out the whole time?”

He shook his head. “No, you walked out on your own, climbed the steps, and then lay with me while I turned on the television. Don’t you remember?” he asked.

She didn’t remember any of it. She leaned back in confusion, rubbing her forehead.

“Nina called and explained that you haven’t been sleeping much lately.” Marcus moved slightly, and she noticed a book in his hand. A book that looked suspiciously like one from her box she’d retrieved from the storage locker.

“Nina explained a lot to me, which I didn’t think you’d mind. You seemed to have a hard enough time telling me yourself,” he said, his voice gentle.

“Like what?” She couldn’t keep from looking at the journal. He held it out for her to take, but she hesitated.

“Like a bit more detail about Diane and her diagnosis and treatments. She seemed to figure out that you kind of kept me in the dark.” He frowned. “I’m not really sure why you did, though.”

“I was scared.” It wasn’t hard to admit, not as much as she thought it would be.

“Charlie?” Marcus turned so he was angled more toward her and reached out his hands for hers. “You have no idea how scared and worried I’ve been since you left. I knew there was something you weren’t telling me. I understand why you felt you had to keep it to yourself but—” He broke off and looked up toward the ceiling.

“Are you upset?” she asked.

His brow rose as he looked down at her. “Upset that you didn’t trust me enough to tell me the full truth? Upset that I’ve always known you were holding something back?” He shook his head. “No.”

She wasn’t sure whether she believed him. “How could you not be?”

He let go of her hands and instead pulled her toward him so her back rested on his chest.

“I’m not upset because everything I imagined was worse. This ...your past, your sister...is manageable. What you went through as a child was a nightmare, and I would have been surprised if you weren’t a little reserved. And Diane,” he paused, “that’s heartbreaking, but it must be scary as well.” His grip tightened around her. “I’m sorry I didn’t come home with you right from the beginning, that I wasn’t here for you.”

She sighed and let herself relax. He wasn’t upset, wasn’t angry at her for keeping secrets. He wasn’t leaving her. That was what she’d been scared about the most—that after learning her secrets he’d walk away.

“I love you, Marcus.” She meant it with everything she was.

“Love, my heart has always belonged to you.” He placed a kiss on the top of her head and then held the journal.

She didn’t want to open it, didn’t want to see her past brought back to life.

“You’ve got to stop running sometime,” he said quietly. She could hear the sleep in his voice and knew he must be absolutely exhausted by now.

She pulled herself from his hold, stood, and held out her hand for him. “Let’s go to bed. You sleep while I...while I remember, and then I can fall asleep in your arms.”

He picked up the journal as he stood, followed her into the bedroom, and collapsed on the bed, already in his pajamas for the night.

“Is that how you’re going to sleep?” He was on his stomach, arms flared out, and looked as if he couldn’t move. She knelt down beside him on the bed and teasingly pushed him until he was on his side, the way he normally slept. She snuggled in beside him, turned her lamp on, and waited until she knew he was asleep before opening the journal.

It was hard to look at each page, to see the images she’d drawn. Her old house, drawn with a black crayon, a broken heart in every window and all the flowers dead in the front garden. Storm clouds and swirls and things she had no idea what they were supposed to be. She’d written words, simple things for a six-year-old to write, like,
Why, I’m sad, no more crying.
She flipped through each page, her sad heart broken for the little girl who felt like she’d been abandoned by everyone she’d ever loved. Everyone but her sister and her aunt Mags.

Tears flowed down Charlie’s cheeks and she gave herself permission to grieve for all she’d lost. No wonder she sheltered her heart, always prepared herself for the worst, and had a hard time trusting people. Thank god for Marcus, for his love.

She turned to the very last page of her journal and found a note in there from her aunt. She didn’t remember ever seeing it before, but reading it now made her cry all the more.

Charlie, I hope one day you’ll see this and know that you have always been loved.

Love doesn’t always come the way we want it to—sometimes it teaches us a lesson, soothes a sore, encourages and even strengthens. Sometimes we find love in the most unexpected places and from people we never thought we would love in the first place.

Sometimes we don’t even recognize it for what it truly is. Love is selfish at times; it can cause pain, and tear a soul apart if given the opportunity.

That’s the thing about love. You never know. But if you never give it a chance, you’ll always be missing out.

You, my dear sweet girl, have always been loved. Always.

Don’t ever fear what love has to bring. It can be a wonderful gift if given the chance.

Love, Aunt Mags.

CHAPTER NINE

Breakfast was a quiet affair. Marcus managed to swallow a healthy helping of scrambled eggs and fried ham, while all Charlie could do was nibble on toast. Her stomach was in knots, her thoughts jumbled, and she’d barely slept all night.

She was taking Marcus to see Diane today.

His phone buzzed, and while he swallowed the last of his coffee, he looked at the text message and sighed.

“What’s the matter?” Charlie asked. She stood up and loaded their dishes into the dishwasher and turned off the coffeepot.

“Nothing. I just thought I’d get at least a few days’ rest before I started getting e-mails and text messages from everyone knowing I’m back.” He came and placed his hands on her hips. “They should know I need a few days alone with you before I’m ready for anyone else.” He smiled at her, but it did little to calm her nerves.

“Are you ready to go?” she asked.

“Why are you so nervous?” He grabbed his jacket and followed her out of the house.

She waited until they were halfway to the hospital before she said anything.

“Diane wouldn’t like you seeing her like this.” It had been bothering her all morning. Charlie knew if the situation was reversed she certainly wouldn’t.

“What’s happening to your sister right now doesn’t change anything for me.”

She reached across and placed her hand on his leg. “I know. But I think it will really bother her.”

“So why are we going then if you don’t want me to see her?”

Charlie sighed. “It’s not that I don’t. I’m just worried about her—does that make sense?”

Marcus didn’t say much, but when she pulled into the driveway and parked he turned to look at her.

“Yesterday was very stressful for you; I get that. And today is another day of you needing to be vulnerable. It’s hard. But, Charlie, you’ve got to trust me. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not running away. Knowing about your past and your mother does not change anything for me.”

There was an edge to his voice, and she knew he was getting frustrated.

“I know you say that, and I trust that you believe it,” she started. She looked out the window and noticed something, however, that caught her attention: Diane stood at her window, looking out. Charlie went to open her door when Marcus stopped her.

“Charlie, you need to talk to me.”

“Fine. For years I was afraid to consider having children. I have always been afraid that psychosis was hereditary and that I would harm my own child. But then...” Her voice broke.