Seven Years Since The Motel Ch. 06

"Don't worry, Leens." He turned to face Maisie and winked as Carolina turned her attention to her shuffling. "We won't be sneaking into your room tonight."

Carolina humphed as she handed the cards to Gemma to cut. Maisie was happy for the noise; she'd reached for her water again after the hand had finished, and nearly spat it out at Alessandro's last comment.

Carolina took the cards back from Gemma and began to deal. "I wish Isabella was here instead of Maisie," she grumbled. "Ouch!" She turned to face her twin. "What the hell was that for?"

"That was because you have no tact, Carolina," Gemma ground out through clenched teeth.

Carolina looked confused for several seconds before realization dawned across her face.

"No! No, I didn't mean it like that." Carolina turned to Maisie and shook her head. "No matter how much I like Isabella, I prefer hanging out with you, any day of the week. You know that, right, Maisie?" Carolina turned back to her sister. "All I meant was that even Alessandro could beat Isabella at bridge. She's terrible. Alessandro and I wouldn't be getting slaughtered."

"She was that bad?" Maisie plastered on what she hoped was a convincing smile. Given the mood around the table, it seemed important to show that Carolina's comment hadn't bothered her; Carolina looked like she felt horrible about what she'd said, Gemma was still glaring, and Alessandro had turned stony-faced at the mention of Isabella.

"Yeah, she was," Carolina gave her a small smile, and mouthed the word, "sorry," to Maisie.

"I taught her to play." Alessandro gave Maisie a wry grin. "She tried, but she only played when we were with these two. It's hard to learn something and then not practice for months at a time, especially when your teacher isn't the best player."

"So Alessandro," Gemma said after giving Carolina a final glare. "What kind of stuff did you find in those boxes in the barn?"

Maisie let their conversation wash over her as Carolina dealt.

Isabella, the ex, she thought with a grimace. No, she corrected herself. Isabella, the model ex.

She knew the conversation shouldn't have bothered her. If anything, it should have made her feel better; Carolina had, in her own roundabout way, expressed how Maisie fit in much better with her family than Isabella ever had.

Instead, it seemed to underscore their different roles: one was a good friend for a card game, while the other was . . . well, a model.

Had she been crazy earlier in the evening to think that Alessandro would be interested in her? She'd never thought she was hideous in the looks department, but she wasn't God's gift to men, some sort of angel sent down to grace the earth and stun all of mankind with her beauty.

But Alessandro's ex? She was that sort of woman.

Literally, Maisie thought with a suppressed snort.

For years, images of Isabella's pouty smile, lingerie-clad body, and fake wings had stared at her from storefront windows and catalogs. While Maisie had never considered herself the sort who needed boyfriends to assure her she was beautiful, her confidence had always waned when she'd seen Isabella's pictures. How could it not?

Not that it should have been surprising. Alessandro had always been the blight in her otherwise-steely confidence; he was the best friend who'd abandoned her with no warning in high school, and the lover who'd kicked her out of his room after sleeping with her. How many times had a voice in her head whispered, "See? Why would he want you when he could have her?" when she'd passed Isabella's larger-than-life form? It hadn't mattered that the timeline was off, that he hadn't even met Isabella that night in the motel.

Had she really thought she'd be able to saunter over for a serious talk without a single worry? That, after the argument in the strawberry field on Monday morning, she'd completely gotten over the rejection of that night?

Listen to you, she scolded. He stared at your body, flirted with you, admitted to fantasizing about you all week, and even made a reference to you spending the night. Stop doubting yourself.

She chuckled and gave her head a little shake. Leave it to Alessandro Conti to send her on an emotional rollercoaster.

She glanced up when she noticed the talking around her had ceased. "Sorry. I was . . . thinking about something else." Maisie offered a small smile. "I didn't channel Carolina and laugh at a totally inappropriate moment, did I?"

"No." Alessandro gave her a hesitant smile. "I was just telling them about finding our old time capsule in one of the boxes I saved."

"Time capsule?" She furrowed her brow. "I don't remember making a time capsule. Sure you made it with me?"

"Who else would I have made a time capsule with?" Alessandro gave her an incredulous look. "You have one hell of a selective memory, Maisie. You don't remember insisting we make one and bury it on old Mr. Harrison's land one spring, right next to that crumbling old cemetery? And making me carry a shovel clear across town? Only to be surprised when I couldn't dig since the ground was still frozen—as I'd told you it would be?"

"Not really, no." She screwed her face up as she tried to remember the incident, then grinned at the memory of her dictatorial childhood-self ordering a shovel-wielding Alessandro around town, time capsule in hand. "How the hell did you put up with me?" she asked with a chuckle.

Alessandro shook his head, laughing along with her. "You know, I just don't know. I always thought of you as having these grand, adventurous plans, but now that I think about it, I don't think that's quite right. You really just had these crazy, impulsive ideas that you wouldn't let go until I went along with them. I think you had to convince yourself to go along with them half the time. Hang on." He leaned over and pulled out his phone, which had begun to ring. "I can't believe you don't remember telling me we should . . . ."

The words faded as he stared at the ringing phone in his hand. After a few blinks and a shake of his head, he held the phone to his ear.

"Izzy? Izzy is that you?" He grinned, and Maisie felt her stomach plummet at the bright smile on his face. "Ciao, Izzy . . . what? Hold on, my reception is crap here. Give me a minute."

He stood and walked out of the room without sparing a glance for any of them.

Gemma cleared her throat in the silence. "What do you say, Maisie. Why don't we institute some sort of mercy rule; Alessandro and Carolina will never catch us at the rate we're going. Let's clean up and have a glass of wine in the kitchen."

"No. I'm getting kind of tired, and . . . ."

Maisie trailed off. She wanted to go home and think. Or go home and watch a movie with her mother. Anything to get her mind off the brilliant smile she'd seen Alessandro flash when Isabella had called. She wasn't sure if a stupid insecurity was popping up again or if this was fate's way of showing her the door before she made a terrible mistake; either way, she was ready to climb off this rollercoaster.

"Come on, Maisie. Sit down in the kitchen with us." Gemma's voice sounded kind, and almost apologetic.

When Maisie didn't respond, Gemma's warm hand reached out and squeezed hers. It was only then Maisie realized her own was trembling.

"OK," she replied. Gemma was too comforting to resist.

Maisie followed the twins into the kitchen. Carolina busied herself washing the pile of dishes in the sink while Gemma wiped the cleaned dishes and put them away. Maisie perched on a stool at the island, feeling useless. She'd put away the remaining veggies and hummus and put the leftover mystery bars in her belly, but had been banished to the island after that, reminded by Carolina of her pledge to do no more work. Her doubts from earlier returned, and she fought to maintain her confidence as she sat.

"Can you believe Isabella called, Gem?" Carolina asked, her hands still buried in the sink.

Gemma shrugged. "Do you think Mom and Dad will be home soon?"

"I doubt it. They said something about seeing some friends in Bath after dinner and being out pretty late." Carolina grabbed the now-empty vegetable platter—the last of the dirty dishes—and placed it into the sink. "Do you think Alessandro and Isabella will ever get back together? I hope so. You never met her, did you, Maisie? I hope you get to meet her; you'd really like her."

Gemma sighed. "I doubt they'll get back together, Carolina. From what little he's said, it's pretty clear that he broke up with her. He's never said anything to indicate he wants to get back with her. They're probably just catching up, like friends do from time to time." Gemma took the clean platter and dried it as Carolina turned the water off. "So what are you going to do about that phone call you got from your new super? The one where he told you about parking restrictions the weekend you're supposed to move in?"

"Dunno. Like I said earlier today, I'll figure something out. Maybe I can leave my stuff at Aunt Aggie's for a while or something." Carolina dried her hands on a towel near the sink and moved to lean on the kitchen island. "So he definitely broke up with her? Huh. I can't believe he still won't tell us more about what happened, but I guess that makes sense. They'd been dating since he was what, nineteen? I know they took a couple breaks and all, but he never really had much time to play around, you know? I bet that's what he wants to do now."

"Or maybe he realized she wasn't what he wanted long-term, and he's ready to move on to someone who is," Gemma ground out, throwing the dishtowel at the oven handle. "Maisie, are there any more of those bars my mom made? I could really use one. Can you believe that she still won't give me the recipe?"

"Um, no. I kinda ate the last ones." Maisie flushed as she continued to play with the hem of her blouse.

"Oh please," Carolina said, ignoring the conversation about food. "You don't end a six-year relationship and then enter a new one within months."

"For goodness sake, Carolina! I've tried and tried to move this conversation along, but you just don't get it. Would you stop talking about Isabella!" Gemma put her hands on her hips as she turned to face her sister. "Open your eyes. For someone who likes to be in on the family gossip, you're completely clueless when it comes to what's going on between your own brother and your best friend."

Maisie's hand stilled, and she felt her face flush as Carolina turned to give her a confused look.

"What do you mean, my own brother and my—"

"What do you think happened all those years ago, when Maisie came back from that weekend reunion and made us swear not to tell him anything?"

"What?" Carolina turned to face her sister. "I don't know. I figured they had another stupid argument or something, or—" Carolina stilled, and then turned to face Maisie. "Alessandro? You mean to tell me that when you came back all miserable, it was because you'd had sex with my brother?" she asked, sounding both confused and horrified.

Maisie nodded. Could her face burn any hotter? she wondered.

"But then . . . ." Carolina stopped and gave her a critical once-over. "All this time you've been spending together this week . . . are you sleeping with each other now?"

Maisie let out a harsh laugh. "No."

"But you want to?" Carolina looked baffled.

"Caught on, have you Carolina?" Gemma quipped. "Go on upstairs, Maisie, and talk to him. We'll finish up down here."

"What? No, I should be getting home."

"Home?" Carolina stared at Maisie as if she were crazy. "It's not even nine."

"But it's been a long week, and—"

"No more buts." Gemma crossed her arms and glared at her sister, who shrugged and gave Maisie a look that said she was siding with Gemma on this matter. "I refuse to be a go-between for another seven years. Go upstairs and talk to him. Neither of you is fooling me; you aren't just friends. He's been moping all week, and you've been acting like a nervous teenager all night."

"No I haven't," Maisie protested, pulling her hand away from her hem and smoothing imaginary wrinkles out of her jeans. "I can just talk to him tomorrow at your graduation party. It's not like there's something important we need to talk about or anything."

"Nothing important?" Gemma's eyes narrowed. "Have you talked about that night?"

Maisie shifted in her seat. "What do you mean?"

"It's a simple question, Maisie."

"Then yeah, we've talked."

Gemma didn't reply, but her eyes narrowed even more.

"Well, yelled. Screamed, really. Last Monday morning, when we ran into each other in the fields," Maisie mumbled.

"I see. And is everything from years ago out in the open now? Did this screaming provide . . . closure?"

Maisie opened her mouth to say yes, but then closed it. She wasn't angry with him anymore, but was she satisfied with what she knew? Was forgiveness the same as closure?

"I see. You know what, Leena?" Gemma linked her arm through her sister's. "I'm in the mood for some bowling."

"What?" Carolina glanced between her snagged arm and Gemma's face.

"Oh, come on," Gemma said with a cheeky grin. "You know how much you love bowling, especially candle pin. It's hard to find in New York, and there's a great old place in the harbor."

"I hate bowling, and you've already dragged me three times this week. Ouch!" Carolina exclaimed as Gemma stepped on her foot. "Fine. We'll go bowling, and I'll put disgusting shoes on my feet. Just stop with the physical abuse, OK?" She glared at Gemma. "You so owe me," she muttered as she turned to Maisie.

"Don't be ridiculous, Gemma." Maisie rolled her eyes. "I'll go upstairs and talk with him; you don't have to leave the house."

"Talking?" Gemma grinned. "Is that all you think you're going to do? How naïve are you, Maisie?"

"Very funny." She looked from twin to twin. "I mean it. I came over here to talk. That's all."

"Right." Carolina snorted. "You're convincing no one in this room about that, including yourself, if the look on your face is any indication of what's going through that mind of yours."

Maisie opened her mouth to protest, but Carolina held up a hand to stop her.

"I really don't want to imagine you and Alessandro doing anything more than talking, so I'm going now. I'll see you later." She and Gemma exchanged a long, pointed look before she turned and headed for the mudroom. "And by the way, you look great, so stop fussing with your shirt!" she called over her shoulder.

Maisie turned to Gemma. "Come on. There's no need to leave and make a big deal out of this. Just stay here, I'll go talk to him, and then maybe we can all watch a movie or something."

"Bye, Maisie."

Maisie felt her frustration rise as Gemma grinned and left the house with a wave, the keys to her mother's car dangling in from her fingers. She sat on a stool at the island and let out a long sigh, only to look up at the sound of footsteps on the tile.

"Changed your mind?" she asked as Carolina walked back into the kitchen.

"I wish. I hate bowling." Carolina grabbed a jacket that Maisie hadn't noticed on the stool next to her.

"You can stay here, you know. I'm just going to talk to him."

Carolina grinned. "If by talking you mean dirty talk as foreplay, then yes, I have a feeling that's going to happen."

Maisie opened her mouth to argue, but Carolina cut her off.

"Gemma's right. Go and finish this ridiculous conversation you've put off for years. And then let things lead where they lead." Carolina cocked her head to the side. "What are you so worried about? Why is it that you suddenly don't want to be alone with him, when it's clear you came over with intentions along those lines? What are you afraid of?"

"I don't know."

"Yeah, you do. Out with it."

Carolina's eyebrow rose. Damn that demanding eyebrow, Maisie thought with an inward groan before taking a deep breath.

"I just . . . I felt so confident earlier, like everything would fall into place. But that call from Isabella made me feel like I'm playing dress-up in some stupid competition over a boy. I hate feeling like that; it makes me feel like I'm back in high school, trying to get his attention, trying to get him to talk to me again."

"You're jealous of an ex, Maisie, and you're annoyed with yourself for feeling jealous. That's normal."

"What? No, it's not quite that." Maisie bit her lip. "Well, maybe a little."

"Like I said, normal, but not something you should let paralyze you. No matter how clueless I was earlier, Gemma was right: she's an ex." Carolina took a seat on the now-empty stool next to Maisie. "You haven't said what you're afraid of, though. Rejection? If so, how is this any different from relationships you've plunged into in the past? This lack of confidence . . . it isn't like you."

"Not exactly rejection, no." Maisie chewed on her lip before answering again. "The stakes are much higher than a simple insult to my pride."

"You're going to have to explain, Maisie," Carolina said with a wry smile. "As Gemma said, I can be a bit blind when it comes to these sorts of things."

"Luckily for you, we love you anyway." Maisie let out a harsh laugh. "But what if, by bringing up the prospect of something more than friendship, I ruin whatever we've managed to salvage over the past week? I lost my friend—my best friend, someone who was more than a best friend for one night—for years. And now that I've finally found him, I'm thinking about doing something that might ruin it. That's terrifying. I don't want to repeat the same mistake I made seven years ago and think we can be more than friends, only to have it backfire and leave me miserable."

Maisie turned to face her friend. "I want more. I know I do. But maybe I should just stick with what I have and be happy about it, you know?"

She took a deep breath, unsure if her babbling had made any sense.

"You won't ruin anything, Maisie. Talk about what happened that weekend. Get it all out in the open, and say everything you need to say. And when you're sure you've dealt with everything, and you still think you want more from him, then tell him how you feel. You can't ruin things with honesty."

"Yes, I can! You don't understand—"

"On this, I understand more than you think," Carolina interjected, giving Maisie a warning look when she opened her mouth to argue. "You know, I remember how upset you were when you got back. But I talked to him before he left for Italy. Something was off. I remember you saying you were a one-night stand for some guy—and God, I still can't believe I didn't know it was him—but you know, I don't know if that's true. He was upset, too."

Maisie bit her lip but didn't answer.

"He never said anything about what was bothering him, Maisie, just like you never told us."

Maisie stared at the kitchen tiles, mulling over Carolina's words. Could her friend possibly be right?

"What happened?" Carolina asked, her voice soft and gentle.

"What?" Maisie snapped her head up to look at her friend.

"I asked what happened. That weekend you two went back."

Carolina cocked her head to the side and waited. Maisie stared at her for ages, hoping her friend would grow bored in the silence and run out the door with a wave. She sighed when she realized that wouldn't be happening.

"We slept together."

"Yeah, I got that." Carolina smiled. "I meant, what happened that made you so miserable." Her face turned serious. "Was he too rough? Did he pressure you? Force you, or—"

"God, no! No, he was . . . it was fine."

"Fine?"

Maisie closed her eyes and took a couple of long, slow breaths. "Wonderful," she whispered.

Carolina nodded. "So if it was so wonderful, why all the not talking?"

Maisie opened her eyes and stared up at the ceiling, willing herself not to cry.