It almost makes sitting in my office bearable. And then there’s the knowledge that she’s in my home. I feel complete when she’s there and somehow lacking when she’s gone. It isn’t that we talk to each other, or even that I see her on a daily basis. But somehow, just having her in the same building is reassuring.
I sigh. I’m getting sappy in my old age. That’s not going to do me any favors. I have bigger and better things to think about, like this wind turbine deal. I can’t afford to have my head in the clouds when it comes to some girl.
But I can’t deny that I’ve got feelings I haven’t dealt with since Alessia’s death. I wonder if the two of them would get along. I wonder what Alessia would say if I asked for her permission to start courting Marlena.
That concept is ridiculous, and I shake my head to clear it. I’ve gotta focus on my golf game, not on some crazy teenage fantasy. The girl is too young for me, and besides, I still don’t know much about her.
I put my head down and concentrate on my shot. When I started out, I wasn’t very good at golf. I’ve gotten better over the years. But it’s not a game that demands perfection. None of the goombahs who make deals on the green is Tiger Woods. We’re all just in it for the social aspect, for the networking. It’s money rubbing elbows with money, and the sport doesn’t exactly require much thought.
I swing and connect, sending the ball flying. Glancing up, I can see Giovanni looking at me with that knowing glint in his eye. He thinks he’s got my number, but he’s mistaken. No one knows I’m carrying a torch for my son’s tutor. Not even Frankie. And I’d like to keep it that way.
CHAPTER 9
MARLENA
Brandon: Where are you?
Marlena: On my way. I’m at a traffic light.
Brandon: Text me when you get close.
Marlena: I’m driving.
Ishoot the text back, but not before the guy behind me honks. I give a short apologetic wave and coast through the intersection.
I’m on my way to “family day” at the university. It’s actually a whole weekend, and it’s right after homecoming. All the kids are supposed to invite their parents, but Brandon and I are orphans. So it’s just me. But I wouldn’t miss it for the world.
I can’t wait to see my little brother in his cramped dorm room. He gets along with his roommates all right. Some of them are even attractive. Of course there’s this one guy who is always making inappropriate comments, but I let that slide. Nothing can ruin this day for me.
The university sits on a city-sized campus to the north of the city. There are rolling green hills and perfectly manicured footpaths. At least a dozen coffee shops and restaurants for the students to pick up a drink or a meal as they run to class. For parents, there are a few hotels scattered around, along with some more formal dining options.
Neither Brandon nor I have a lot of money, so we’ll be sticking to the cafeteria. He says he can sneak me in with his college ID so that we won’t have to pay for food. We’ve done it successfully before, and I’m looking forward to the endless buffet of fried chicken and tofu that passes for the meal plan.
I pull up to the student union to find a parking spot. As soon as I’m parked, I call him.
“I’m here,” I announce.
“Great,” he says. “Where are you parked?”
“I’m at the student union,” I say.
“On my way,” he replies, hanging up before I can say another word.
I climb out of the car and close the door slowly. I love being here. No one knows who I am, so I feel safe walking around. They take security very seriously on campus due to all the money parents are paying. I can spot two emergency phone towers from where I’m standing, and I see a campus security vehicle parked a few cars down. Nothing bad could ever happen here, and that’s incredibly reassuring.
It’s a beautiful day outside, and I don’t mind just hanging around. I don’t even take out my phone because I’d rather breathe the fresh air and take in the sights. There are somany young people walking around, talking to each other, and laughing. It just feels so innocent.
“Hey, sis,” Brandon says, jogging up to me.
We hug, and I don’t want to let him go. He’s just so solid, and he’s the only family I have left. Finally, he detaches himself from my clutches, giving my hair a little toss.
“How are you doing?” I ask.
“Fine,” he says, shoving his hands into his pockets. “You want to get something to eat?”
“I’m starving,” I say.
He hands me a college ID that he borrowed from one of his female friends. I look at the picture, and it looks nothing like me. But I know from experience that no one checks, so we should be good. As long as I have a piece of plastic to swipe at the door, that fried chicken is as good as mine.
