The Last Marchetti Bachelor Page 3

  He had a lot on his plate. It was best for both of them if they made a clean break from each other right now. He was going to have a lot to deal with. She wouldn’t add another problem to the pile.

  She smiled. “I’m fine. Just low blood sugar. I carry protein bars in my purse for this very thing.” When the dizziness passed, she stood and backed away, putting a safe distance between them. “I’m sorry about all of this, Luke. You probably don’t believe that, but it’s the truth. If there’s anything—”

  “There isn’t,” he said too quickly. “If you’re sure you’re all right, I’ll say goodbye, Maddie. I have work to do.”

  She walked to the door and stopped. “While you’re working, do me a favor,” she said, with her hand on the knob.

  “What’s that?”

  “Remember that no one’s perfect. We all make mistakes.”

  She stepped out and closed the door behind her, leaning against it with a sigh.

  “Mistake is my middle name,” she said to herself.

  “Ma, you’re not going to believe the whopper Maddie Wainright told me a little while ago,” Luke said.

  He walked into his parents’ house, and the kitchen door wasn’t even closed before the words were out of his mouth.

  Flo Marchetti grinned at him fondly. “You know, ever since you were a little boy, you’ve always blurted out whatever was on your mind.”

  Luke studied her. With the newspaper spread out before her, she was sitting at the oak table set in the breakfast nook. It was as if he was seeing this kitchen and her for the first time. The ceramic tile countertops were the same. The tile floor hadn’t changed, and neither had the side-by-side refrigerator that always held enough food to feed an army. Which was almost what the five Marchetti kids were.

  Rewind that last part. If Maddie was telling the truth, there were only four Marchetti kids and one… His gut clenched. The pain was right there, scratching at his consciousness. He refused to feel it. Surely there was a mistake. When he figured it all out, he could let the pain go without allowing it to touch him. He released a long breath as he looked at his mother.

  In her late fifties, she was still an attractive woman. Gray hair, cut stylishly short, framed her relatively unlined face. She was wearing an olive-green, two-piece, knit lounging outfit. Granny glasses perched on the end of her nose for reading. Above the lenses, affection seemed to reach out to him from her warm-brown eyes just the way it always had. But everything felt different. He was looking at the world through different eyes. Why had he never questioned the fact that his were blue? Neither of his parents or any of his siblings had eyes that color. Had he suspected something and just ignored it?

  There was still the possibility Maddie was trying to punish him, although he didn’t see her as that kind of woman. Maybe she felt guilty about spending the night with him. No one knew about it, but maybe she still wanted to make him pay. But she was right when she’d said if she was going to lie, the matter of his paternity would be too easy to prove.

  “It’s not a whopper,” Flo said, pulling his attention back to her. “Maddie loves you.”

  “That’s not the whopper, and she’s never said that to me.” Just the opposite. She hadn’t said it in so many words, but when she’d left his office, he knew it was for good. Part of him rebelled at the thought. But he couldn’t think about that now.

  He met his mother’s gaze. “Ma, when are you going to get it through your head that love doesn’t make the world go round?”

  “Never. Because it may not make the world go round but it sure makes the journey a lot more fun.”

  “Maddie handles my legal affairs. That’s all.”

  “Even though you spent the night together after Alex’s wedding?”

  “How did you know— I mean—”

  “Her car was parked here overnight because you drove her home.”

  Good grief, he felt like a randy teenager caught sneaking out of the house in the dead of night to meet a girl. That wasn’t far from the truth. Even though she had come to him with this preposterous story, he felt the need to protect Maddie.

  “That doesn’t mean that I stayed with her.”

  “Did you?”

  Instead of responding directly he said, “You didn’t say anything to anyone else, did you?”

  “I didn’t have to. Nick and Abby came by the next day for brunch. They were the ones who told your father and me.” There was a self-satisfied expression on her face. “I always could tell when you were lying.”

  Had he inherited that trait? Would he be able to tell if she was lying? His head pounded as doubts reared up again. They had glided and swirled through his mind as he’d driven straight from his office at Marchetti’s Incorporated to this house where he’d grown up. What if Maddie hadn’t been lying? What if Tom Marchetti wasn’t his father? That would mean his mother had slept with another man. No. It couldn’t be true. Again pain threatened and he pushed it away.

  “Where’s Dad?” he said, nearly choking on the word. It wasn’t the question he wanted to ask. He wasn’t sure he was ready to hear the answer.

  “Your father is having dinner with Rosie, Nick, Joe and Alex. You know he refuses to give up the tradition he started before you and your sister were born of giving me a night off by taking all his children out for dinner.” She frowned. “Come to think of it, why are you here and not with them?”

  “I forgot. I had a lot on my mind.” He recalled the dinners with his Dad and siblings. They had done it once a week when they were all younger. Now the get-togethers were less frequent because of their busy schedules. But they made an effort to meet once a month at one of the Marchetti restaurants.

  “Have you eaten, dear?” She started to stand. “I can make you something. Sit down.”

  Ignoring her invitation, he asked, “What did you do while Dad took us out?”

  Flo looked thoughtful. “Usually I had a long, relaxing soak in the tub. I didn’t have to play referee or listen to little fists pounding on the door. It was heaven for a frazzled young mother. Your father, bless his heart, realized that with three small boys a year apart in age, I needed some time for myself.” She smiled. “So tell me about Madison and the whopper.”

  “She came to my office today,” he started, watching his mother’s face.

  “That’s a start. Togetherness breeds familiarity—or something like that,” she said with a laugh. “I’ve always thought the two of you—”

  “Ma, there is no two of us—”

  “Have you ever heard the expression ‘One is a lonely number’? It’s about time you got yourself a love life. You’re not getting any younger, Luke. You work too hard. Soul mates don’t grow on trees. You’ve got to get out there and shake some branches. Find Ms. Right. Maddie is a wonderful girl—”

  “I didn’t come here to discuss my love life.”

  “Then why did you come, dear?” she asked calmly. “I can tell you’ve got something on your mind. What’s troubling you?”

  “Your love life.”

  She laughed. “Very funny. Every time your father or I have made allusions to our love life you kids make gagging noises and clear the room.”

  His nerves cranked up a notch. He had to know about her love life. “Do you know a guy named Brad Stephenson?” He gripped the back of the wooden chair until his knuckles ached.

  Her body language was all the answer he needed. She went completely still as her eyes widened and her skin paled. “Brad Stephenson?” she whispered.

  “So you do know him.” Blood pounded in his ears. The barrier between him and the threatening pain cracked.

  She nodded. “He was your father’s accountant years ago.”

  There could still be a misunderstanding. Just because she knew him didn’t mean she’d slept with the man. “Maddie came to the office today and you won’t believe the wild story she told me. This guy Stephenson died—”

  “Oh, no,” his mother gasped as her hand fluttered over her breast.
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  “You cared about him?” he asked, studying her shocked expression. The knot in his gut tightened a notch.

  “Tom and I both liked him,” she said cautiously. “I’m sorry to hear he’s passed away.”

  “Here’s where the whopper comes in.” He swallowed hard to get the words past the constriction in his throat. “He left a will, and Maddie inherited the account. She says I’m the beneficiary, that the guy is my father. Can you believe that?”

  Flo sighed as she took off her reading glasses and set them on the table. She closed the newspaper and folded it in half, then quarters. The moment stretched into what felt like an eternity as his mother gathered her composure.

  Lifting a gaze filled with tragedy, she said, “It’s true, Luke. Brad Stephenson is your father.”

  Stunned didn’t begin to describe what he felt. He could hardly breathe. It was as if hands had reached into his chest, squeezing all the vital organs he needed to draw in a single breath of air. It was as if her words tapped into a motherlode of shock. Pain flooded him. He couldn’t get his mind around the fact that his mother, his Rock of Gibraltar on all things, could have done what she was saying.

  “It was a long time ago,” she continued. “I’d like to explain—”

  “And about damn time, don’t you think? When were you going to tell me?” Hurt and betrayal made him go cold inside.

  She stood up and looked him straight in the eye. “Don’t take that tone with me. I’m still your mother and deserving of your respect.”

  “Does Dad know? I mean Tom. Does he know?”

  “Of course he does. I wouldn’t keep something like that from him.”

  “But you kept it from me.”

  “You were a baby.”

  “I’m not now.” He stared at her. “Does anyone else know?”

  “Your brother Joe.”

  “Half brother,” he clarified.

  She lifted her chin slightly. “I had to tell him. He was having a personal crisis. I talked to him so he could work some things through. He needed to understand that every relationship goes through ups and downs. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. I also gave him permission to tell all of you about it. Apparently he decided not to. He doesn’t know about you, just my indiscretion—”

  “Such a tidy word for it,” he said. “Isn’t there a neat little word for what I am?”

  “Don’t talk like that.”

  “Why? I believe the correct term is bastard. Or maybe the fact that you were married at the time makes it less ugly. Or more ugly? Maddie’s right. I’ll have to call her office and get legal counsel just to find out what label to use.”

  He was behaving like an idiot. But he couldn’t seem to help himself. She’d lied to him about something as basic as who he was.

  “Stop it, Luke. Let me explain—”

  “You just did. But here’s the abbreviated version. You slept with another man while you were married to Dad—sorry. Tom. It’s going to take some time to get the principal players and labels straight.”

  She held her head high. “Even condemned criminals get an opportunity to defend themselves. If you’ll just give me a chance—”

  “I’m thirty years old. Seems like you’ve had plenty of chances.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Neither you or Tom felt the need to explain to me that I’m living a lie.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Because you’re not. Your father and I had problems in our marriage. We worked them out. We both love you very much. Never doubt that—”

  “Don’t have doubts? That’s asking an awful lot. You’ve let me grow up in a fantasy. Hell of a way to get a reality check, by the way. From the family attorney. Give me one good reason why I should believe you now?”

  She laced her fingers together, and he was struck by her dignity in the face of his angry tirade. As soon as the thought entered his mind, he pushed it away. She’d cheated. She’d lied. How could he admire anything about her?

  She drew in a deep breath. “Whatever ugly names you’re not calling me to my face are no less than I deserve. But know this, Son—”

  “Don’t call me that,” he ground out.

  “I will,” she said firmly. “You are my child, my son. I love you unconditionally. There’s nothing you could do that would make me stop loving you. I did as any mother would—what was best for you. Your father and I discussed—”

  “Which father? Sorry, but you’re going to have to be more specific. I hit the jackpot today. Count ’em.” He held up two fingers. “Not one but two dads.”

  She flinched, but ignored his sarcasm, and went on in the same modulated tone. “The adults concerned discussed the situation and felt you would be better off raised in a secure environment with a family who loves you.”

  “I fail to see how lies translate into love,” he retorted.

  “I hope you’ll come to understand why we made the decision. In time, when you’re less bitter and angry, maybe you’ll see that we had your best interests at heart.” She shook her head. “I don’t understand. Brad promised. He agreed it was best not to say anything—”

  “But he did.” Pain and anger knotted together in his gut. “And in a whacked-out sort of way, that’s some comfort. At least he had a conscience. Maybe I got his gene for telling the truth instead of yours to perpetuate a lie.”

  “Luke, listen—”

  He turned away and walked toward the door. He heard her footsteps behind him. She put a hand on his arm and he couldn’t break her hold without more force than he was willing to use. Meeting her gaze, he put his hand on the knob.

  “Luke, you can be as angry as you want at me. But don’t you dare take this out on your father. And don’t pretend you don’t know who I mean. Tom Marchetti loves you—you are his son.”

  “When you bury your head in the sand, you leave your rear end exposed,” he shot back.

  She went on as if he hadn’t spoken. “I will not tolerate any disrespect toward your father.”

  As much as he hated to admit she was right about anything, the truth was Tom Marchetti was a victim, too. He wasn’t the one who had slept with someone else.

  “Don’t—” Whatever she saw on his face made her release his arm.

  Without a word from her to stop him, he left the house. He walked across the back grass, skirted the pool area ringed with Malibu lights, and stopped beside his sports car parked in the alley.

  The anger, pain, bewilderment and betrayal that had dogged him since Maddie broke the news cascaded over him in a tidal wave that threatened to drown him. How could he have not known his whole life was a fabrication? The woman who had taught him right from wrong, who had given him a moral foundation to live by, had lied to him in the most elemental way. How could he not be bitter and furious?

  Happy childhood memories washed over him. Times spent with his siblings, his mother—the man he’d never had a reason to question as his father. How could they let him grow up believing he was a part of that? As a teen, he’d been grounded from his car for trying to pull a fast one. Yet she expected him to act as if nothing had changed for him. How hypocritical was that? Everything had changed.

  Leaning against the driver’s door, he ran both hands through his hair. His mother had given him the answers, just as Maddie had said. And she was right. He definitely planned to call a lawyer. But a stranger couldn’t respond to the questions he had. In fact, there was one big one at the top of his list, one that overshadowed everything else.

  “Who the hell am I?” he whispered into the dark night.

  Chapter Three

  A week after breaking the news to Luke, Madison stared at the blinking cursor on her office computer screen and silently begged it to spit out just the right words. He had taken her advice, made an appointment and would be there any minute. She had to hand him over to her associate. And she had to tell him she was going to have a baby. She’d done the test—several times, different brands. Pink and plus signs danced before her eyes until she couldn’t
doubt it any longer. He had a right to know. But how could she dump that news on him now?

  How could she not?

  The intercom on her desk buzzed. She pushed the button. “Yes, Connie?”

  “Mr. Marchetti is here to see you.”

  “Send him in,” she said, then clicked off.

  Moments later her office door opened, and in he walked. She was vaguely surprised that he wasn’t wearing business attire since it was the middle of the workday. But she had to admit his worn jeans and the black T-shirt that hugged his broad chest and muscular biceps could redefine business casual. As far as the females in the workforce were concerned.

  The room seemed to shrink when he stood in front of her desk. Suddenly she didn’t have enough oxygen, and it wouldn’t have mattered if she had a tank of the stuff hooked up to a mask over her face. Besides it was a flammable chemical and could create a dangerous situation. Whenever she and Luke were in the same room they set off sparks like burning logs shifting in the fireplace. The stage was set for a monumental conflagration—emotional, personal, professional.

  “Hello, Luke. How are you?”

  “How do you think I am?”

  She studied his face, the dark circles under his eyes, the deep creases bracketing his nose and mouth. He looked so tired. In spite of all her self-warnings, her heart went out to him before she could snatch it back. “Are you sleeping? You look awful.”

  “Thanks very much,” he said, one corner of his mouth quirking up. He sat in one of the powder-blue barrel-backed chairs in front of her desk. “That’s the pot calling the kettle black. You don’t look so hot yourself.”

  There was a reason for that, but she couldn’t just blurt it out. He would start to think she was Typhoid Mary. Every time he saw her she told him something life altering. He would start avoiding her like the plague. That might be for the best, she thought, as at the same time something deep inside her protested.

  “I’m fine. Busy.” She laced her trembling fingers together and rested her clasped hands on the paperwork piled on her desk. “What can I do for you?”