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“I know she’s upset with me. And she has a very good reason,” I answer. “Now, can I see her please? She’s going to be so much happier after we talk.”
Matteo shakes his head. “She’s furious with you. Like, worse than my mom was when my dad bought a boat.”
“That bad, hey?” I ask, swallowing hard.
“Way worse,” Camilla says. “Like, I’d run from here if I were you.”
“Not running, Camilla,” I tell her. “She means too much to me to run away.”
I hear Allie’s dad in the background. “Who are you kids talking to?”
They both turn and say, “Hudson Finch.”
“Oh, no,” he answers, his voice getting louder as he says, “He better not be here.”
He comes to stand in front of the door wearing a death glare.
I give him a small wave. “I am here.”
Shaking his head, he tsks about twenty times, then points a finger at me. “You screwed up.”
Another voice comes from behind the door. “Who screwed up?”
“Hudson Finch,” he tells them.
Zia Fernanda squeezes her way around the kids. “Oh yeah, you screwed up more than any man in the history of love. And I know a thing or two about this because I work at a salon, so I’ve been hearing about stupid things men do for over forty years.”
“I know. I really did screw up,” I tell her. “And I’m here to fix it.”
“Some things can’t be fixed,” Enzo says.
“I came all this way. I have to try,” I say. “Your daughter is the best person I know. I’m in love with her and I want to spend the rest of my life with her.”
“Then you shouldn’t have done all the things you did,” he answers.
“Agreed. I messed up royally, but I have a way to fix it. I just need to explain everything to her.”
He gives me a stern look, then says, “She’s not here.”
“Come on, Enzo, of course she’s here. It’s Sunday.”
He shakes his head. “She knew you were coming so she left.”
Fernanda nods. “It’s true. She didn’t want to see you. Not that I blame her.”
“But it’s Sunday.”
Her mom appears next to her aunt. “We gave her a pass today.” She shakes her head at me and sighs. “Oh boy, you really messed the bed, didn’t you?”
Letting my head hang down a little, I say, “Yes. Yes, I messed the bed.”
The kids both burst out laughing, covering their mouths with their hands. Behind them, I hear their idiot dad’s voice. “What’s so funny?”
“Hudson Finch messed his bed!” Camilla yells.
Awesome. A little louder so the whole neighborhood can hear it.
A second later, I’m faced with Allie’s sister and brother-in-law, her nonno, and her grandma, three of whom are tsking and shaking their heads at me, while Vinnie shrugs. “Meh, you dodged a bullet. Trust me.”
