Claiming What's Mine

Chapter 8: Sofia

“Sofia, what's wrong?" My mother sets down the large platter she's holding on the kitchen island and takes a closer look at me. “Have you been crying?"

She's not aware of the feelings I have for Roman, nor do I want her to be. I feel like a fool after what happened in Papa's office. The last thing I want is her pity. It will make me feel worse.

I also know that if I tell her what happened with Roman, she'll have him fired immediately. Or worse. Roman has become a valuable asset to the organization over the years. My father heavily depends on him. My brothers assist Papa when needed, but none of them are interested in taking over when he decides to step down because they have their own business ventures to run. Causing problems for Roman will cause problems for my father if the person he wants to pass the reins to is no longer an option.

And I'm not interested in going there. Roman Santori isn't worth the effort, and part of me recognizes I'm somewhat at fault for what occurred.

“Of course not." I give my mother a quick hug and paste on a smile. It's forced, but it's the best I can muster under the circumstances. I just want to limp home and lick my wounds. I need to bury my feelings for Roman so deep inside me that they can never be unearthed. I hate that he ruined Grace and Matteo's engagement party for me. It should be a day of celebration. Instead, I'm hell-bent on escaping from my home and family as quickly as possible. “I wanted to say goodbye before I leave."

Her face falls. “But it's still early."

Biting my lip, I nod. “I know, and I'm sorry. I have some work to finish up for school tomorrow." Wanting to change the subject before she can pelt me with more questions, I add, “It was a lovely party, Mama. Grace and Matteo seem very happy."

The compliment does exactly what it's meant to. Her eyes light up as her frown morphs into a smile. “It was a beautiful party for a beautiful couple," she agrees. “Kenneth is a miracle worker. I don't know what I would do without that man. We're going to sit down early next week to start firming up the wedding plans. There is so much to do."

I roll my eyes. Good Lord. The idea of my mother putting her head together with Kenneth makes the corners of my lips twitch. Poor Grace. She has no idea what she's gotten herself into. If Francesca's over-the-top wedding was any indication, this one will be nothing short of a three-ring circus.

Better her than me.

“You did a wonderful job, Mama. Everyone had a fantastic time, and the food was delicious."

“Thank you." Reaching up, she strokes my cheek just like she used to when I was a child. It takes serious willpower not to close my eyes and sink into the comforting gesture. “You work too hard, darling."

I sigh.

This is a conversation she likes to sneak in at least once a month. I know exactly where it will end-with talk of wedding bells and babies.

“That's because I love my job," I remind her.

This is my second year working as a guidance counselor at Lincoln High School, which is located thirty minutes from my parents' house. Last spring, when I was offered a contract for the following academic year, I purchased a small bungalow in the same town as the school. Some people spend hours commuting every day. It takes me less than fifteen minutes from door to door.

The best part of my job is that I get to work with kids. It's rewarding, and I feel like I'm making an impact on their lives most of the time.

It's also demanding. There are days when I'm overrun with students and meetings with teachers and parents, going in a million different directions before stumbling home blurry-eyed and exhausted. And there are afternoons when I stay late to finish up computer work and am too tired to make dinner for myself, choosing instead to eat a bowl of Grapenuts at the kitchen counter before falling into bed.

All that said, I enjoy it and can't imagine doing anything else.

“Yes, yes, yes." Mama waves a hand dismissively. “But there's more to life than work." She casts a knowing look from under thick, sooty eyelashes. It's one that says she expects grandbabies sooner rather than later. Since I'm not currently dating anyone, and haven't for some time, there's little chance of that happening.

Unless immaculate conception is an option.

Her words would roll off me like water off a duck's back any other day. But I'm not up for verbally sparring with her after my run-in with Roman. I still feel raw and tender. “I'm only twenty-six, Mama. There's plenty of time for that. I'm not in any rush." I mentally apologize to my sister before throwing her under the bus. “You already have one married daughter. Maybe you should have the grandbaby conversation with her."

According to Francesca, our mother badgers her around two o'clock every Sunday afternoon when they talk on the phone.

“Trust me on this, one day you'll blink, and you'll be out of time. You need to think about this now, while you're still young."

I'm tempted to roll my eyes but don't.

My parents are proud of me for earning bachelor's and master's degrees, but at the end of the day, they want to see me married to a nice, successful Italian man so I can settle down nearby and have three or four babies for them to spoil rotten. They may be progressive, but they're still old school at heart. Family is the pinnacle of everything. And that philosophy will never change.

“Didn't you mention a teacher at school who keeps asking you out?"

In a moment of weakness, I mentioned Drew to get her off my back. I probably shouldn't have.

He's a super-nice guy but...

It's difficult, if not impossible, to fall for another man when your brain is preoccupied with a churlish asshole.

I almost shake my head at that thought. I'm so aggravated with myself. This afternoon has opened my eyes to what an absolute i***t I've been. I spend all my time counseling students, sometimes teachers and parents, but it's obvious that I'm the one in need of intense therapy.

Or deprogramming.

Maybe an exorcism.

Whatever it takes to evict Roman from my head.

I should want to be with a nice guy. One who will treat me well. Not a brooding jerk.

Drew teaches chemistry and physics at Lincoln. He's one of the most popular teachers there. Students with no interest in science sign up for his classes. I have no idea how, but he breaks down challenging subject material and makes it easier for them to grasp. He has a great sense of humor and tries to infuse it into his lectures. I wish we had more teachers like Drew.

For obvious reasons, I haven't given in to Drew's pursuit of me. Maybe, in light of what occurred this afternoon, that's something I should reconsider. It seems shortsighted to turn down a great guy because I've been hung up on Roman.

“Mama..."

“Maybe you need to give this man a chance." Before I can utter another word, she follows up with, “Is he Italian?"

Smiling, I raise my brows and drawl, “Nooope."

Mama waves a hand as if that's a minor detail. “I'm sure he makes up for it with other redeeming qualities."

A grin tugs at the corners of my mouth.

Standing near the window that overlooks the sprawling yard, she nods toward the tent bursting at the seams with friends and family.

My gaze settles on Roman, who stands beside my father with the box of cigars he snatched from my hands.

“He's handsome, yes?" my mother muses, nudging my shoulder with hers.

I grit my teeth as Roman's hurtful words reverberate through my head.

I don't want you touching me!

Humiliation and anger slowly burn through me, heating my cheeks in the process. Channeling as much calmness and composure as possible, I shrug and say, “He's fine."

Unaware of the hurt pounding through me, Mama slyly continues, “I think he's quite handsome. Your father has given him a great deal of responsibility this past year. He's a strong man."

I refuse to discuss Roman with her. Ignoring her attempt to bait me into a conversation, I give her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Sorry, Mama, but I have to go. We'll talk soon, okay?"

Resigned that her scheming has been for naught, she sighs dramatically. “All right darling, but consider giving that teacher of yours a chance."

The woman is relentless.

And I wouldn't trade her for the world.