I started this story recently at a request from my beta, who wanted me write something not dealing with fandom couples

Please let me know what you think. Feedback is alway apperciated.

Summary: Dealing with her crazy family antics, Toni had followed three simple things in life but fate always has a way of stepping in a taking control when you least expect it. As Toni was soon to learn, rules were were made to be broken.

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Chapter One

It’s finally here.

The day that my family has come to dread over the past few decades has arrived. My family greeted it with wails of grief and pleas to the Almighty for divine intervention. Extreme yes but that was my family.

I on the other hand, basked in it and counted down the hours. Glad to be free of the burden that had been forced upon me. After six years of constant nagging, pitying looks and uncomfortable questions. I had turned thirty!

When I had turned twenty-seven years old, my mother had set up an altar with enough candles to light the city for at least a year. The once mahogany tabletop was now permanently coated and protected for years to come with a layer of wax, hiding the once rich red tones under an opaque layer.

I stood to the side as my mom walked by me. I could hear her mumbled prayers as she counted the rosary beads and adding my name after each Hail Mary and Our Father.

“Please, send someone to my daughter. How can she be complete without someone in her life? A good European boy, catholic, respectful and wanting lots of babies.” She pleaded.

I stared at her in disbelief. ‘What no love, just becoming a giant baby making machine?’

Despair etched deep lines in her once smooth face and tears flowed down as she looked upon my ring less fingers and flat stomach.

Did I happen to mention that she has an obsession with children? More to the point, my unborn children. The next generation of screaming brats for our already large Portuguese/Italian family. Come to one of our gatherings you’d find yourself trapped within the movie ‘My Big Fat Greek Wedding’. The only difference would be that there’s no end in sight and no pause button to press to act as relief against the constant assaults for all sides.

Between my two sister and six cousins, the baby count is now at sixteen. Go to any family party and the screams of dissatisfied children echo in the air.

Some would say that I’m over reacting but the only thing that’s kept me sane was moving out at the tender age of twenty-five, five years ago. If you felt an earthquake on June 9, 2001 that was my family, falling to their knees in shock and begging the priest to perform an exorcism. Obviously, I had to have been taking over by the devil, to want to leave such a peaceful, quiet environment.

“Mom,” I called out, as she paced in front of me again, a picture of a weak defeated woman. “Mom! This has got to stop. I’m Thirty, not dead.”

“You may as well be, “she replied, sniffling into a handkerchief. “ What have you done with your life? No husband, no children… Where did I go wrong?”

The last was asked with a wail, her dark eyes raised upwards, as if the ceiling would provide the answer to her Spinster daughter situation.

I rolled my eyes at her antics. “Mom, I have a career, I’m independent and smart. I’ve got good friends and I don’t need a man to keep me HAPPY!” I responded, raising my voice.

GASP!

I think all the air in the room was sucked out by my mom with her horrified intake.

“Antonia Maria Santos, who has put such filth in your mind?” She demanded, quivering in rage.

“No one, Mom.” I replied, exasperated. “I came up with that all on my own.”

She glared at me and continued to mutter darkly under her breath.

‘This was getting me no where.’ I quickly walked to her and hugged her tense body. She stood stiffly before releasing a sigh and returning my hug. She pulled away and brushed my mass of wavy onyx hair away from my eyes.

“Toni, I just want you to be happy and have someone you can depend on.” She replied, “Some one like your father.”

My eyes widened and I took a step back. Some one like Dad? Oh God, now I know that I’m never getting married or dating again as long as I live.

Don’t get me wrong I love my dad but in our very traditional European household the man does the man’s job, the woman does the woman’s job. Man’s task: Going to work, mowing the grass and watching TV. The little woman is in charge of the cooking, cleaning, bill paying and raising children. The list goes on but in my shock, I can’t remember everything. I shuddered and looked at her with a panicked and horrified expression.

“Ok, maybe not quite like your father,” she recanted with a small laugh. “But someone just for you.”

“Mom, it’s almost sounds like you’re talking about a soul mate and we all know that’s nothing more than a romance novel cliché,” I responded teasingly. “You don’t honestly expect someone to come rushing in out of the blue to sweep in off my feet, do you?”

“Well…”

“Mom,” I said shaking my head sadly. “Please be proud of me for whom I’ve become and don’t measure my worth or lack of it by whether I have a husband and family.”

She looked away from me, “The family talks.”

“So, let them talk. I don’t care. I’m tired of them constantly butting into my life,” I snapped angrily.

“But it looks –“

“I don’t care what it looks like to them. They have nothing better to do with their days except sit around gossiping. Leave them to it,” I entreated, gently adding for her sake. “I haven’t given up on Mr. Right, I’m just not interested in Mr. Right Now.”

She pulled me close and whispered the six most important words in the world to me. “Toni, I am proud of you.”

“I love you, Mom.” I replied, voice thick with emotions as I returned her hug.

“I love you too, Toni. Never change for anyone,” she said. “You’re perfect the way you are.”


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The train station was bustling with a constant stream of people boarding and exiting trains. A chaos-filled world, filled with calls for luggage, boarding and people searching for loved ones.

I sat reading one of those delicious romance novels and enjoying a large cup of Milano coffee and a chocolate croissant. Sheer decadence before the torture to come.

Work had ‘volunteered’ me to go to a conference in Montreal. Five days of jotting down notes about a new system that was going to be implemented upon my return. This wasn’t the first time for this little tête-à-tête, no this was my fourth in the last two years.

We’d change everything, only to find out six months later that the ideas weren’t practical for day-to-day use and need to be scrapped. Endless man hours wasted and me ready to run screaming from everything and everyone like a mad woman.

Hmm. That wouldn’t be a bad idea. It would stop them from asking… No, bad idea. They’d declared me insane and put me to work in the benefits department! Why there you ask? Simple, you’d have to be insane to deal with the constant whining and complaining of our company’s employees.

“Excuse me.” A deep baritone voice called out.

“Hmm,” I replied, still lost in my thoughts.

“Do you have the time?”

Great another cheesy pick up line by some loser at the train station. There are how many electronic signs with the time on them around me? I thought, peeved at the interruption.

I glanced up ready to snap at him when WOW!

Standing before me was a gorgeous, tanned Adonis. His hair was black almost the color onyx, it had a slight wavy texture to it and a lock had fallen to rest his brow. His eyes were a startling royal blue. ‘Probably contacts, but who cares,’ I sighed. He had a dimpled smile and a chiseled jaw. A bronze god was standing before me and I sat there looking at him like an idiot.

“What?” I stammered, trying to act normal.

“Do you have the time?” He repeated with a small grin, “My watch isn’t working.”

“It’s 9:47 am,” I murmured, cheeks flushing lightly under his stare.

“Thank you,” He replied.

His voice washed over me and I wanted to melt into a puddle at his feet. His voice was deep and rich, but it had a slight purr to it. As if he was making love to each word he uttered. Someone save me now, please before I completely humiliated myself.

Wait, I have to still respond to him. Act cool, you can do this. Think of it as a boardroom meeting, come on girl. Cool, calm and collected.

“You’re welcome,” I replied shyly, looking down at my book, hoping that he would go away before I put my foot in my mouth by saying something completely stupid.

Glancing side ways I noticed that he hadn’t left. Confused I looked up at him.

“Alexander D’Falcone,” he offered, holding out a hand.

Crap, Italian. I thought mournfully. There goes the thought of even entertaining the notion of going out on a date with him.

I had followed three simple rules since I discovered that boys were not evil incarnate but people that I actual wanted to be around and perhaps date. You could call them Toni’s ‘Dating for Dummies’ guidelines. Please not that there are variations to rule #1, change as necessary to fit your situation.

The Three Rules According to Toni Santos

1) Never date someone that been set up by your parents (Whew, gross!)

2) Never date someone younger than you (Men mature mentally slower than women do. Do you really feel like babysitting someone?)

And third most sacred of this dating trinity, never to be broken by anyone.

3) Never, NEVER! Even look twice, make that once, at a Portuguese or Italian male. If you find yourself starting to become caught within this trap, run don’t walk to the nearest exit. Screaming is perfectly acceptable and should put to use when keeping the approaching male at bane.

I had followed this Golden Rules since high school, to this day I had never been steered wrong.

My smile froze and I sought a way to avoid further conversation. Until the voice echoed within my mind.

‘Antonia, mind your manners. You know that I taught you better than this.’ My mother’s voice scolded me menacingly.


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