The truth was the truth. When she moistened a cotton ball with antiseptic and dabbed at the cut, it stung like fire. He glanced in the mirror. The gash, more of a deep scrape really, was about two inches long. And dead in the center of his forehead. Now, every time he saw his reflection for the next week or so, all he would remember was debauching Phoebe in his kitchen.
She smeared a line of medicated cream along the wound and tried covering it with two vertical Band-Aids. Now he looked like Frankenstein.
Their eyes met in the large mahogany-framed mirror. Phoebe put a hand over her mouth. “Sorry,” she mumbled. But she was shaking all over, and he wasn’t fooled. Her mirth spilled out in wet eyes and muffled giggles.
“Thank God you didn’t go into nursing,” he groused. He stood up and reached for a glass of water to down some ibuprofen. “Are you hungry, by any chance?” The kitchen episode had left him famished. Maybe it was the subliminal message in his surroundings.
Phoebe wiped her eyes and nodded. “That picnic food was a long time ago.”
“In that case, let me show you to your room and you can do whatever you need to do to get ready. The place I want to take you is intimate, but fairly casual. You don’t really have to change if you don’t want to. But I’ll drag your three dozen suitcases in there to be on the safe side.”
* * *
Phoebe wasn’t sure what to think about the opulent suite that was apparently hers for the duration of her visit. It was amazing, of course. Yards of white carpet. French country furniture in distressed white wood. A heavy cotton bedspread that had been hand embroidered with every wildflower in the world. And a bathroom that rivaled Leo’s. But in truth, she had thought she would be sleeping with him.
Nevertheless, when Leo disappeared, she wasted no time in getting ready. She took a quick shower, though she made sure to keep her hair dry. It had grown dramatically in three years, far longer than she had ever worn it. Once wet, it was a pain to dry. She brushed it quickly and bound it loosely at the back of her neck with a silver clasp.
Given Leo’s description of their destination, she chose black tights and black flats topped with a flirty black skirt trimmed at the hem in three narrow layers of multicolored chiffon. With a hot-pink silk chemise and a waist-length black sweater, she looked nice, but not too over-the-top.
She had forgotten how much fun it was to dress up for a date. Fastening a silver chain around her neck, she fingered the charm that dangled from it. The letter P was engraved on the silver disc in fancy cursive script. Her mother’s name had started with the same letter as Phoebe’s. And Phoebe had decided that if her baby was a girl, she wanted to name her Polly. An old-fashioned name maybe, but one she loved.
It was hard to imagine ever being pregnant again. Would she be terrified the entire nine months? The doctor had insisted there was no reason her next pregnancy shouldn’t be perfectly normal. But it would be hard, so hard, not to worry.
Pregnancy was a moot point now. There was no man in her life other than Leo. And the two of them had known each other for no time at all. Even if the relationship were serious—which it definitely was not—Leo wasn’t interested in having kids. It hadn’t been difficult to pick up on that.
He clearly loved his niece and nephew, and he had been great with Teddy. But he was not the kind of guy to settle for home and hearth. Running the Cavallo conglomerate required most of his devotion. He loved it. Was proud of it. And at the level of responsibility he carried, having any substantive personal life would be tricky.
His brother, Luc, seemed to have mastered the art of balance, from what Leo had said. But maybe Luc wasn’t quite as single-mindedly driven as his intense brother.
When she was content with her appearance, she returned to the living room. Leo was standing in front of the expanse of glass, his hands clasped behind his back. He turned when he heard her footsteps. “That was quick.”
He looked her over from head to toe. “I’ll be the envy of every guy in the restaurant.”
She smiled, crossing the room to him and lightly touching his forehead. “You okay?”
“A little headache, but I’ll live. Are you ready?”
She nodded. “Perhaps we should stop by a pharmacy and grab some tiny Band-Aids so you don’t scare children.”
“Smart-ass.” He put an arm around her waist and steered her toward the door.
“I’m serious.”
“So am I….”
Nineteen
After a quick stop for medical supplies, they arrived at a small bistro tucked away in the heart of downtown Atlanta. The maître d’ recognized Leo and escorted them to a quiet table in the corner. “Mr. Cavallo,” he said. “So glad to see you are well.”