Love Turns With Twisted Fates (Truth About Love Book 2) Page 2

  “You take care now, Mrs. Santo. Santo Feo,” his use of Diego’s on field nickname telling us he knows who Diego is, “I look forward to seeing you on the pitch.” He’s out the door without another word.

  “A baby?” we say simultaneously, the shock and glee evident on both our faces.

  “Well, I guess I had a surprise for you, too.”

  We chuckle together. Diego’s eyes are glossy. I can only assume the news is as overwhelming to his emotions as the news is to mine. The fluorescent light catches in his eyes. They sparkle like chocolate diamonds. He leans down and places a kiss on my forehead as he sits on the bed beside me. I snuggle into his hovering shoulder unable to hold back the tears. Diego trails kisses down my tear-streaked cheek, landing on my lips for a tight kiss melding into one with increasing passion being strung between us. The way he holds my cheek makes me feel like he wants to worship me—and my body.

  “Izzy, you’re going to be the best mom ever. How could—”

  “Izzy,” calls out Grace, “the nurse said you could have a visitor now. My niece is on her way here to pick me up, but I wanted to make sure you were feeling better.” She studies our flushed pallor and my tear-stained cheeks. “You’re pregnant,” she declares.

  Her astute observation makes our smiles grow wider. There’s no hiding it now. Not right now, when the news has installed perma-grins on our faces. “Such wonderful news!”

  While I’m visiting with Grace in the hospital room, Diego leaves for what I thought was a bathroom break. However, he has returned with two books in tow and a teddy bear and I’m no longer sure of his reason for leaving. He holds up the two books: What to Expect When You’re Expecting and The Expectant Father: Tips and Advice for Dads-to-Be. Grace, Nurse Kitty, and I chuckle at his eagerness to be prepared.

  “Okay, Izzy,” says Nurse Kitty entering the room, “the doc has cleared you to go home.” She hands me some paperwork and I go through them, autographing the necessary pages. Nurse Kitty is going on and on about my pregnancy.

  Grace excuses herself when her niece arrives. We breeze through our farewells, because Kitty is running me through what I’ll need to do and pick up, but I hear Grace promise to stop by and check on us tomorrow.

  Loaded down with paperwork explaining the necessity of prenatal vitamins and iron supplements, Diego leads me out of the emergency room, his right arm wrapped protectively around my back. We’re stepping through the automatic doors and directly into a waiting taxi.

  “Let’s get you back to the hotel,” Diego breaks the silence. “We’ll order room service. What are you craving?” His eyebrows quirk up when he realizes what he’s asked, “Wait, are you having cravings?”

  With a sigh, I share with him my dilemma. “I’d love a big fat greasy burger, but my head and my stomach are not in agreement.” I further explain that the very thought of meat makes me incredibly nauseated.

  “How about breakfast for dinner?”

  “Actually…I could go for some French toast.” With the look Diego gives me, you’d think I just asked for dirt or detergent for dinner. Of course, I know why he’s looking at me as if I grew a second head; I never eat French toast.

  He’s shaking his head. “It starts,” he drawls out jokingly.

  Taking in the lights of this new city, new country, I’m overwhelmed by all the changes this day has brought me, brought us. My mind wanders to the little room across the way from the master bedroom at the house Diego purchased for us. I see a rainbow of pastels and solid wood furniture with sheer covers for the window. My eyes close at the thought of a morning’s sun hitting my face as I sat with the baby in the rocker.

  The sun rising reminds me of another sunrise.

  Chapter Two:

  Waiting for the Sun

  August 1998

  Thoroughly exhausted, but in desperate need of a second wind to push forward on the research for my thesis project, I opt to take my break from research with a good workout in one of the campus gyms. After an hour on the elliptical, I’m a sweaty mess, but I want to get some dancing in to further clear my mind before I head back to the library for a late night.

  There’s a little bit of a crowd—if you call a couple or so handfuls of fellow co-eds a crowd, dispersed around the machines and weights. As late as it is, there aren’t any classes going so I have my choice of studios. Armed with a towel, my water bottle, and my portable compact disc player, I head toward the smallest studio past the group of noisy jocks hitting the weights.

  I pop out my CD and place it in the studio’s boom box, skipping to the starting track for the workout routine the girls and I came up with. I use the first songs to stretch and raise my heart rate.

  Daft Punk’s “Around the World” comes on and I’m fully immersed in the thirty something minute routine. It was a project for a dance class Mazzy and I took. It’s a lot like an aerobic workout routine with some killer dance moves. Things kick up a notch with the next song, driving me through the intense physical moves. When the next song comes on, I am extremely appreciative of our inclination to slow the routine down a little after such an intense six to seven minutes. I gyrate my hips to Janet Jackson singing about taking him places he’s never been and the way love goes. Before the next heart thumping, blood-pumping songs come on, my heart rate evens out and I’ve caught my breath. I’m counting the songs and seconds to the cool down. Two more songs, I tell myself.

  The next section of the routine finishes with a face plant to start the groundwork portion of the cool down. Arching up and facing the mirror, I register the small audience on the other side of the studio’s glass wall.

  One face is familiar. Ha! Who am I kidding? Familiar? That familiar face is Sebastian’s friend, Diego. Our eyes connect in our reflections in the mirror. It takes everything I have to continue and keep up with the routine as the music doesn’t pause with my distraction. I close my eyes to tune out Diego and his buddies. I keep them closed to avoid meeting Diego’s piercing stare another time. I can’t see him, but I can feel his eyes on me.

  When the music stops, I take a moment to just lay there. The second wind I was chasing has come, but my mind is on a pair of russet brown eyes. The look I caught in his them when our gazes connected in the mirror has created an unfamiliar need within me. The feeling of being watched has passed and I decide it’s now or never to get up.

  Peeling myself from the floor, I am more than relieved that my earlier audience, ALL of my earlier audience is gone. I guzzle what’s left of my water and contemplate the odds of running into the man that’s been racing through my mind for the last week. Momma always said that fate worked in mysterious ways.

  After a quick shower to wash off the grime and to give me that much more energy, I’ve gathered my belongings in my workout bag and am pushing through the doors of the gym. I’m leaving Mazzy a message to see if she’s still on campus and wants to grab a quick bite at the diner just off campus when it feels like I’ve walked into a wall of solid muscle. Flustered and frustrated by my carelessness, I force myself to look up and apologize to whomever I’ve just attempted to bulldoze with my poor attention skills.

  “Sorr—,” I’m blown away. Standing before me is Diego. His presence mixed with my colliding into him and being embarrassed beyond measure, I’m rendered speechless. The embarrassment sinks in further as I realize I’m just staring up at him after only getting partially through my apology. Just when I catch my breath, Diego breaks out a smile that eviscerates my ability to form a coherent thought, let alone voice one.

  “Izzy, right?” he asks. I just nod. I’m so out of my element with my loss for words, I just keep staring. He cracks that smile again, “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

  That snaps me out of it. “Did you hurt me?” The confusion evident in my voice.

  “With this body,” he holds his hands up in an invitation to look him over, “I’ve been told it hurts to run into it.”

  Oh, hell…it’s always the hot ones so full of themselves. I
suppose that’s my fate. Swearing off men and then getting one stuck in my head only for him to end up being good for a night—or two. “Well, I’m happy to report that nothing was hurt. You can be on your way now.”

  “Where are you going?” he inquires. I look at him as if he’s just grown two heads. “Cause wherever you’re going is where I’m going.”

  “Is that so?” It’s his turn to just nod, but I swear if it were possible, he turned up the charm and wicked in his grin. “So, if I told you I was headed to meet my boyfriend for a late dinner at the diner across the street from the campus, would you still be going where I’m going?”

  He laughs. Oh my gaawwwd. That laugh. I’m certain my knees are trembling and it has nothing to do with the chill in the air. “Of course,” he finally answers. “But I know two things,” he holds up two fingers. “One, you don’t have a boyfriend and two, if you did, he wouldn’t be it after we had dinner.”

  “You’re absolutely correct about the first one,” shaking my head, “but the second? I’d say you give yourself too much credit, Diego.”

  Shock, surprise, and pride flash through his eyes. Crap. I slipped when I said his name. So, much for playing this indifferent. “You remember my name,” it’s not quite a question, a musing if I had to label it. I shrug, but the quirk at the corner of my smile betrays me. “You’ve been thinking about me.”

  Enough of the foreplay, time to get down to Mr. One Night or Two and move on. I lift my shoulders as if to say maybe. “Well this was fun, but I really need to get some dinner,” heading in the direction of my car. “Nice to see you again, Diego. Hope you enjoyed the show earlier,” I call out over my shoulder.

  “So, we’re going to dinner,” he practically sings next to me.

  “I don’t know about we, but I am. I suppose if you want to join me, I won’t object. My dinner buddy hasn’t replied,” I say holding up my phone and shaking it. He laughs that laugh again. It’s rumbly and deep and makes it hard to concentrate.

  “Can I carry your bag for you?”

  “Well aren’t you chivalrous? Are we gonna go steady, too?” I mock, stopping mid stride to see what he says next.

  “I can’t commit to steady, you might be a stalker or a serial killer,” he teases back.

  “Stalker, huh? What was it you were doing when I tried to run you over?”

  The faint blush I see through the pale light of the dimly lit campus parking lot and his tongue pressing against his cheek highlight the impish grin he’s sporting. “If I told you I was sitting out here waiting for one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen to walk out those doors,” pointing in the direction of the entrance to the gym, “would you think I was a stalker?” He monopolizes on the opportunity to turn my earlier taunt back at me. “But I guess she’s not coming out,” he deadpans and my face falls slack in shock, my eyes unblinking.

  This time his laugh is a roar and I can feel it rumbling through me. I shake my head in…in what? Disbelief? Annoyance? Nope. Not it.

  Resignation. That’s it.

  This man is trouble and I am drawn to it—to him, like a desperate addict to her next fix. “Ha ha…don’t let me stop you from waiting for her,” still holding onto my gym bag, I continue on my way to my car.

  “Her loss, your gain,” he says from behind me. I can hear the shrug in his voice. He’s keeping pace with me. “Do you always walk out here alone at night?” Where there was once humor, I think I catch concern.

  “Sure,” I say with a slight lift of my shoulders. “Not always on this side of the campus.”

  “That’s not safe,” he says just as we get to my car, his voice stern.

  “Really?” I look up to meet his gaze. The playfulness and charm are gone, replaced with a furrowed brow and pursed lips. “Okay, Prince Charming, I’ll have you know that I’m a ninja. I went to ninja school for ten years, because my dad insisted I be able to protect myself from boys.”

  It’s my turn to laugh. The look on his face is priceless: eyes wide and mouth slightly agape, his left eyebrow raised. Undoubtedly, he’s trying to figure if I’m serious and what I meant by it.

  “Aikido. I studied aikido for ten years. I’ve also taken some boxing.” Lifting up my shirt to show off my abs, “Shoulda asked if I hurt you.”

  He shakes his head at me with a wide grin. “So this is your ride?” His eyebrows are lifted in approval mixed with a little bit of shock and awe at my 1967 Ford Galaxie. I sold my Honda Accord when mom and dad passed away. Sure, the gas mileage sucks on this thing, but it’s a little piece of my dad I get to have with me every day. “Damn,” he shakes his head again. “Just damn.”

  “This is my Betsy. She was my dad’s baby,” I answer back with a smile. “Where’d you park?” I ask looking around the parking lot to see if I can match the man to his machine.

  “Don’t have a car. I live on campus because of my scholarship.”

  I quirk an eyebrow up at the mention of scholarship. “So you are a jock?” I can hear the disappointment in my voice and only hope he doesn’t. I open the trunk and toss in my bag. “Well, if you’re going to join me for dinner you might as well get in.”

  I’m already behind the wheel when Diego pulls open the passenger side door and eases himself into the seat. He’s still wearing his gym clothes, although the shirt looks fresh. I can see the hills and valleys of his abs through the white tee. I bite my lip to fight the urge to reach out and touch.

  “Ahem, I have a face you know and,” I look up to meet his stare full of lust and desire, “if you bite that lip of yours any harder you’re going to need stitches.”

  I roll my eyes and put the car in reverse. There’s a beep on my phone, alerting me I have a new message. Diego grabs it from the ashtray turned phone holder. “Hey,” I shout but I lack the conviction to stop him from looking at my phone.

  “Looks like your dinner buddy had other plans.”

  Stopped at the exit of the parking lot, I look to the screen on my phone. It’s Mazzy. I press the button to listen to the message she’s left.

  “Izzy!”

  “Izzyyyyy!”

  “Izzy, where are you babe?” There’s a string of persons saying my name on the message. It’s Mazzy and her go to boys, Steph and Aidan.

  “You still in the library?” One of the boys asks.

  Mazzy snorts. “The boys and I are a little sweaty and a lot naked.”

  “You still coming?”

  “I am,” Mazzy answers. Diego coughs. Oh, the woman and her exploits. There’s some rustling over the phone and one last request for sustenance, no less. “Muah!” Mazzy ends the call.

  Oh my fucking gawwwd! Mazzy and her naked duo talking over each other on the message is just what Diego needed to hear. I just shake my head. The woman has no shame. Of course, she probably wasn’t expecting me to be with anyone.

  “Sounds like your dinner buddy is tangled up with other plans.”

  The short drive to the diner is quiet. I can practically hear the wheels turning in Diego’s head. Thanks to Mazzy, I know where our conversation is now headed.

  At this hour, the diner is a seat yourself set up. I choose the round booth in the corner and slide myself near to the center. Diego slides in the other side, staying near the edge of the booth, but taking up enough real estate so that our elbows meet as we rest our arms on the table in front of us.

  “So, which one was your dinner buddy?” Referring to the message from Mazzy and her boys.

  “All of them,” I say with a wink. “I cancelled on them to do research.”

  Diego’s eyes bug out and he doesn’t look happy. In fact, is that steam I see coming from his ears?

  “The female,” part question, part statement. “That’s my Mazzy, best friend, partner in crime, and freak.” I can see him rolling his next question around on his tongue. When he screws his face up, I decide to answer before he asks. “Not my bag. I loved my parents,” I let out a half-hearted chuckle. “Mazzy is busy being the opposite of wh
at’s expected of her. She says it’s all part of her plan to be young and wild and free. I tell her she means a freak, not free.” I chuckle at my own joke.

  “That’s good. I’m not very good at sharing,” he states simply

  Before I can appropriately react, the waitress is at the table asking for our drink orders. Extremely hungry after my workout, I order my dinner at the same time. Diego does the same. Our food is out in front of us before long and we settle into a comfortable silence.

  Between bites, I steal glances at the sinfully good-looking man sharing the booth with me when we aren’t making small talk. I can’t figure out why he has this enigmatic pull on me. With measured breaths, I manage to finish what I could of my chef salad.

  With a sigh, I wipe my mouth and toss the napkin on the table. I’m not looking forward to the long night of researching. While the workout at the gym was exhilarating, this workout to keep my heart from jumping out of my chest in Diego’s presence is considerably more taxing.

  “Diego, how old are you?” He’s mid-bite when I ask the question, but his lips pull up in a mischievous smile from behind his cheeseburger. “What?”

  He finishes chewing his bite and wipes his mouth. That mischievous smile still in place, he asks how old I thought he was. I only got a nod and a shrug when I guessed twenty-one. We go back and forth with similar questions while he finishes the platter of chili fries he ordered. He never really gives me any direct answers and I have to wonder what it is he’s avoiding.

  As we’re leaving, a group of guys comes stumbling in, clearly inebriated and a lot loud. “Santo Feo,” they chant to Diego. Speaking in slurred Spanish, I can’t figure out the rest of what they were saying.

  He ushers me out of the diner and the sudden change in temperatures sends a chill from my shoulders to my toes. He volunteers the sweatshirt he’s had tied around his waist. When a soft breeze kicks up the air around us, my inclination to decline is chased away.

  “Sorry about that back in there,” he throws his thumb over his shoulder pointing toward the diner.