A Family Affair: The Wish: Truth in Lies, Book 9 by Mary Campisi Page A
Authors: Mary Campisi
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desirable, more spoiled and self-absorbed.
Because no one had prepared her for a life that included such traits as genuine concern and caring for and about others, her attractiveness was confined to the empty slots in between breakups where backseat sex, bar-stool gropings, and late-hour romps became her specialty. Sex turned to sleaze turned to slut. She watched as women her age headed to college, found jobs, husbands, had their first child. Natalie collected nothing but a string of empty relationships that always included sex, but not always the relationship. And then she landed Nate Desantro. Hard, fast, explosive. She’d never loved anybody like that, never loved anybody before Nate. He was her guy, and though she knew he didn’t think of her as long-term, she took what he offered, whenever he offered it. Until Christine Blacksworth drove into town with her sophisticated airs and blue-blood money. Natalie would like to say she hated the woman and for a long time, she did, but these past few years, she’d actually come to respect her. Any woman who could gain Nate Desantro’s love and make the man want to be married was a powerful person. That was real love, and that’s what Natalie wanted with Robert.
Robert Jeremiah Trimble, the man she loved and hoped to marry—just as soon as he asked her. She sighed, poured two coffees, dropped three sugar cubes and exactly two teaspoons of cream in one on the mugs, and carried them to the bedroom. This house was their getaway, a tiny Cape Cod in Renova, twenty minutes outside of Magdalena. Robert had purchased it as investment property a few years ago but when he and Natalie became serious, he rented out his condo in the city and moved here. Robert had asked her to move in with him, citing practicality as the main reason. Why drive back and forth every time they wanted to be together and why pay her parents rent when she stayed with him four or five nights a week? The accountant in him talked about wear and tear on the vehicle, gas, depreciation, and loss of time. On and on he went in that soft yet mesmerizing voice of his, with Natalie snuggled against him, lulled by the rhythm of his breathing.
She refused all offers, including the one to move in with him, waited for the one she wanted most. The marriage proposal that didn’t come. One day soon they would have to discuss their future—Robert promised her there was one—and they would have to discuss her past as well. Love conquered most obstacles, confronted others, and never gave up hope. Their love would do the same; she believed it with her whole heart because she would not let herself think otherwise. They had been together almost two years and during that entire time they’d never met his mother or her parents. They’d talked about reasons for waiting and she hadn’t missed the way his dark eyes shifted beneath his glasses when he said his mother was traveling, or not feeling well, or simply unavailable. Natalie played the avoidance game as well, but her excuses for why he hadn’t met Lydia and Ernest Servetti were a bit more colorful: they were on a bus trip to the casino, busy packing for a seven-day cruise, or motoring along Route 28 in a rented camper.
Neither she nor Robert asked the other to expand on this information and the reason was as plain as the white button-down oxfords he favored: they didn’t want to know . Once the parents got involved and handed out their opinions, all of which would carry a criticism, the cocoon Natalie and Robert lived in would shrivel, their privacy and happiness threatened. But they couldn’t go on like this forever, living in a make-believe world where outside interference didn’t exist. She’d finally told him that she wasn’t a physical therapist but worked in a hair salon giving facials, manicures, and pedicures and had conjured up the story to impress him. He’d been so kind, had pulled her into his arms, cupped her face with gentle hands, and vowed he would
Because no one had prepared her for a life that included such traits as genuine concern and caring for and about others, her attractiveness was confined to the empty slots in between breakups where backseat sex, bar-stool gropings, and late-hour romps became her specialty. Sex turned to sleaze turned to slut. She watched as women her age headed to college, found jobs, husbands, had their first child. Natalie collected nothing but a string of empty relationships that always included sex, but not always the relationship. And then she landed Nate Desantro. Hard, fast, explosive. She’d never loved anybody like that, never loved anybody before Nate. He was her guy, and though she knew he didn’t think of her as long-term, she took what he offered, whenever he offered it. Until Christine Blacksworth drove into town with her sophisticated airs and blue-blood money. Natalie would like to say she hated the woman and for a long time, she did, but these past few years, she’d actually come to respect her. Any woman who could gain Nate Desantro’s love and make the man want to be married was a powerful person. That was real love, and that’s what Natalie wanted with Robert.
Robert Jeremiah Trimble, the man she loved and hoped to marry—just as soon as he asked her. She sighed, poured two coffees, dropped three sugar cubes and exactly two teaspoons of cream in one on the mugs, and carried them to the bedroom. This house was their getaway, a tiny Cape Cod in Renova, twenty minutes outside of Magdalena. Robert had purchased it as investment property a few years ago but when he and Natalie became serious, he rented out his condo in the city and moved here. Robert had asked her to move in with him, citing practicality as the main reason. Why drive back and forth every time they wanted to be together and why pay her parents rent when she stayed with him four or five nights a week? The accountant in him talked about wear and tear on the vehicle, gas, depreciation, and loss of time. On and on he went in that soft yet mesmerizing voice of his, with Natalie snuggled against him, lulled by the rhythm of his breathing.
She refused all offers, including the one to move in with him, waited for the one she wanted most. The marriage proposal that didn’t come. One day soon they would have to discuss their future—Robert promised her there was one—and they would have to discuss her past as well. Love conquered most obstacles, confronted others, and never gave up hope. Their love would do the same; she believed it with her whole heart because she would not let herself think otherwise. They had been together almost two years and during that entire time they’d never met his mother or her parents. They’d talked about reasons for waiting and she hadn’t missed the way his dark eyes shifted beneath his glasses when he said his mother was traveling, or not feeling well, or simply unavailable. Natalie played the avoidance game as well, but her excuses for why he hadn’t met Lydia and Ernest Servetti were a bit more colorful: they were on a bus trip to the casino, busy packing for a seven-day cruise, or motoring along Route 28 in a rented camper.
Neither she nor Robert asked the other to expand on this information and the reason was as plain as the white button-down oxfords he favored: they didn’t want to know . Once the parents got involved and handed out their opinions, all of which would carry a criticism, the cocoon Natalie and Robert lived in would shrivel, their privacy and happiness threatened. But they couldn’t go on like this forever, living in a make-believe world where outside interference didn’t exist. She’d finally told him that she wasn’t a physical therapist but worked in a hair salon giving facials, manicures, and pedicures and had conjured up the story to impress him. He’d been so kind, had pulled her into his arms, cupped her face with gentle hands, and vowed he would
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