Year of Living Blonde (Sweet Life in Seattle, Book 1) (37 page)

ANTHONY DOESN’T COME
into the bakery all week, doesn’t call or text. Natalie doesn’t hear a word from him, not that she expects to, but still. Apparently, there’s a small part of her holding out hope that somehow he would come through for her and fix this mess.

Meanwhile, she and Blair have been getting to know their new neighbors, Amy and Daniel. They get coffee and pastries every day, along with some of the contractors who are building the fixtures for the clothing store.

“I wish they’d stop coming over,” Blair says. “I know it isn’t their fault, but it’s like having our faces rubbed in it.”

“I know,” Natalie sighs.

“Maybe we should keep looking for a new space.”

“Probably.” Natalie sighs again.

Lindsay’s eyes narrowed with anger when she heard. “Who knew geeks could be so sneaky?”

By the time Friday rolls around, it’s hard for Natalie not to feel depressed, though she’s doing her best to try and put it out of her mind. Especially since it was the night Anthony was supposed to cook dinner for her and they’d have had their first sleepover. She’s bummed thinking about her little joke.

I was ready to go to bed with him.

She wanted to more than she cared to admit. And it wasn’t just because he would have been the first man since Peter, or even because she felt so strongly attracted to him. Oddly, it wasn’t his outer appearance at all. It was because of what happened on that Ferris wheel.

He took care of me.

She had to give him that. Anthony didn’t get annoyed, or tell her she was being silly, or to get over it. Instead, he took care of her without hesitation. It was the first time in a long time she felt she could rely on a man.

And now what?

And now she’s sitting here at home alone on what would have be their first night together. Chloe and Lindsay wanted to stay, but she told them to go ahead with their plans. Peter picked up Chloe with his usual phone call from the driveway, still avoiding her.

Watching from the front window, it occurred to Natalie that she hasn’t actually seen Peter in ages.
He’s never even seen me with blonde hair.

“I can always invite Oliver over here,” Lindsay tells her. “I think he’d be cool with it if I explained everything.”

“No, I’m fine. Go on. It’s been a while since I had time to myself. And you guys already have tickets.” Lindsay and Oliver were going to see the Arctic Monkeys.

Lindsay studies her and then gives her a hug. “Okay, but remember I’m only a phone call away.”

Once Natalie is alone, she starts a thorough search of the entire house. It takes her almost an hour to find what she’s looking for, but in the end, she’s victorious.

“Ah ha!” Natalie grins, holding up her brown
Lord of the Rings
hoodie. “I knew you were still around here somewhere!” It was well hidden, tucked away in the back of the linen closet behind an old bottle of fabric softener. She holds it up to her nose and gets a whiff of laundry soap. “Perfect.”

Natalie showers and then puts on black sweat pants, a white camisole, and her comfortable hoodie, which used to be merely large on her when she was more overweight, but now fits her like a circus tent.

“That’s okay. I’m not dressing to impress anyone tonight.” The hoodie feels as good as a hug from an old friend.

Padding barefoot into the kitchen, she makes herself a big bowl of buttered popcorn and some fruit salad. She glances at the wine cabinet, but opts for ice water with lemon instead.

She studies her collection of movies. She considers
The Fellowship of the Ring,
but for some reason her eyes keep going to
The Empire Strikes Back.

“Oh, what the heck.” She isn’t going to let any memory of Anthony ruin one of her all-time favorite movies.

Anthony stares into his refrigerator.

There’s a bottle of ketchup, a bottle of mustard, hot sauce and a jar of mayonnaise.

I really need to go grocery shopping.

No salami. No cheese. He sees a box of crackers on the counter and considers squirting ketchup on them for dinner, but that sounds pathetic. There isn’t even peanut butter and jelly. Serena must have eaten the last of it. He usually keeps more food in the house, but he’s been too busy. Plus, he didn’t want to think about the grocery list because then he’d have to think about the dinner he was planning to make Natalie and the reason he’s no longer making it.

Closing the fridge with a low sigh, he goes upstairs to take a shower. He’s drenched with sweat from lifting weights in the garage, trying to take his mind off how pathetic he feels. He gets under the hot water and debates whether he should jerk off or not. That sounds pathetic, too. It depresses him to think of what he could have been doing tonight. Natalie, with her pin-up girl body and that x-rated mouth.
God.
Her charms are more than skin deep though. She’s insightful and down to earth. Basically, the whole package. Her good opinion matters to him, and he wants to be the man she thought he was. A smile grows on his face when he thinks about the way she plays him. He likes it. Few people can shine him on like that.

And I fucking blew it.

He’s wanted to call her all week. Keeps picking up his phone—staring at it, then putting it down, trying to figure out the right thing to say to fix this. Anthony soaps up and starts thinking about the night he should be having. Natalie, so soft and luscious, and then decides—what the hell—closes his eyes.

So I’m pathetic.

Later Anthony sits at the dining room table with his laptop and reads the latest research papers on the astro-ph website. He considers calling Maya, they’ve become pretty good friends, but she has a toddler and he doesn’t want to bother her with his woman problems. He picks up another cracker and squirts it with ketchup. And just as he pops it into his mouth, the house phone rings. He doesn’t bother checking the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“
Ciao,
Antonio?
”

He recognizes his mother’s voice. They haven’t spoken in a few weeks.

“
Ciao, Mamma, come stai?
” he says, switching to Italian.

“Not so good. I’m glad I got hold of you. There’s a problem with your father. He called me a few minutes ago from Seattle and—”

“Wait a minute, did you just say Dad’s here in Seattle?”

“Yes.” She goes on to explain that his father has been in Seattle for the past few days attending a medical conference and that the hotel shuttle he was in had some kind of accident. “It doesn’t sound serious and I spoke to him on his cell a few minutes ago, but we were cut off and I can’t get hold of him again.”

“Where is he?” Anthony is already stuffing the crackers back into the box. He gets up and searches around for his phone and car keys.

“The ER at University Hospital. I called, but the switchboard has me on hold and I can’t get through to anyone. I’m sorry to bother you with this, Antonio, but would you go make sure he’s all right?”

“I’m leaving right now.”

He takes the quickest route to Seattle. When he gets to the hospital ER, he parks and heads straight for the main reception. After waiting in line briefly, he explains who his father is. They tell him to take a seat, and Anthony finds a spot near the large fish tank.

It’s been years since he’s been in a hospital.

He watches the fish swim in the tank peacefully, a kaleidoscope of tropical colors. Everything comes back to him from when he was a kid and used to visit his dad at work. The acrid smell of antiseptic, the bland artwork, and the brisk sense of purpose hospital workers always have. Back then, he wanted nothing more than to be just like his father.

“Are you Dr. Novello’s son?”

Anthony turns and finds a nurse in blue scrubs standing in front of him.

“Yes.”

“Come on back,” she motions for him to follow. “Your dad just had stitches.”

Anthony follows her through the double doors and into a long hallway with patient rooms lined up like honeycombs. Finally, she pulls the glass door open on one.

His father is sitting on a bed, fully dressed, speaking with another man, presumably another doctor.

He turns. “Anthony?” The inflection in his deep voice is the only thing that gives away his surprise. “What are you doing here?”

And a big hello to you, too.

“Mom called. Said you were in a car accident.”

“I see.” He turns to the doctor. “This is my son, Anthony.”

“Dr. Weber,” he says, putting out his hand.

Anthony shakes it and then turns his attention back to his dad. “Are you all right?” He notices the bandage on his father’s left hand. “What happened?”

“It’s been nice to meet you, Dr. Novello,” Dr. Weber says. “I’ll go ahead and let you speak with your son, and I’ll see that the discharge papers are put through right away, so you don’t have to worry about missing your flight.”

“Thank you,” Anthony’s father tells him.

When the two of them are alone, Anthony asks him again what happened.

“I was taking a shuttle back to the hotel from the conference I was attending, and we were struck by a police car.”

“And you cut your hand?”

“One of the other people in the van had an umbrella and the tip punctured my skin.”

“Did they give you a tetanus shot?”

His father frowns and stands up. “Of course they gave me a tetanus shot. I don’t know why your mother called you. She shouldn’t have bothered.”

Anthony feels the same old sense of disapproval emanating from his father. And it still brings out the worst in him. “Doesn’t change the fact she did call. Are you all right otherwise?”

“I’m fine. They weren’t driving fast, and I was wearing a seatbelt.”

Anthony considers the situation. “So a police car hit your shuttle van? That’s kind of weird.”

“Yes, it is.” His father gathers his coat and computer bag. “But weirder things have happened, haven’t they?”

Like his son dropping out of medical school to become an astronomer.

Anthony recognizes his disparaging tone and tries not to roll his eyes. It’s amazing how his father has the ability to turn everything into the same old problem.

“Since you’re here, you can give me a ride to my hotel,” his father tells him. “I have a flight back to Los Angeles tonight.”

“Sure.” He watches his dad slip into his coat, struggling a bit with the bandage. “Can I help? I could carry your bag for you.”

“I’m fine.”

“What time is your flight?”

“Ten.”

Anthony glances at the clock on the wall. It’s already almost seven-thirty. “You’re cutting it close. I can give you a ride to the airport.”

“That won’t be necessary. I already have another shuttle lined up.”

Anthony doesn’t reply. His dad is still the same. Clearly, nothing has changed between them.

They head out toward the lobby, with his father stopping at one of the nurses’ stations to thank everyone first. They all talk enthusiastically with his dad, occasionally glancing at Anthony, who just stands there with his hands in his coat pockets. His father doesn’t bother to introduce him.

Finally, they head out to where Anthony is parked. They’re almost to his car when someone calls out. “Dr. Novello?”

Both Anthony and his father turn at the same time. “Yes?” his dad says, but Anthony recognizes the guy. It’s one of his graduate students from last year.

“I thought that was you,” the guy says, walking up to Anthony. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been good—it’s Chris, right?”

He nods. “I just heard recently that you were nominated for the Smyth Medal. That’s pretty sweet.”

“Yeah.” Anthony chuckles self-effacingly. “I heard that same rumor.”

“Congratulations—that’s really great, Dr. Novello, I hope you win it. Seriously.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that.”

Anthony explains that he’s in a rush and they say their goodbyes. He can feel his father bristling next to him once they’re in the car.

“
Doctor
Novello? Is that really what you call yourself?” his father asks.

In truth, Anthony rarely asks anyone to call him that. He prefers Professor or just plain Mister, but some people seem to prefer calling him by the Doctor title. Of course, he doesn’t tell his dad this. Instead, he shrugs. “I did earn a Ph.D. after all.”

His father scoffs. “In
astronomy.
” He says astronomy with as much derision as if he were saying astrology.

“So, what hotel are you staying at?” Anthony asks as he starts up the car.

But, of course, his father won’t let it go. “A hobby—that’s all it should have been for you. People like us don’t ignore our calling.”

People like us.

If Anthony never heard that phrase again in his life, he’d die a happy man.

“We don’t ignore our talents and let some silly hobby become our life’s work.”

“Apparently we do,” Anthony murmurs as he pulls out of the parking lot, heading toward downtown Seattle.

“I know you made some mistakes when you were younger and that’s how you got off-track. I probably should have intervened more like I did with your brother.”

“What is your hotel?” Anthony asks. “I need to know where I’m going.”