by Ella James
That’s a low blow. Also, not true. “Leo,” I rasp.
“Brother…what can I do to fix you up?” He shakes my shoulder lightly. I’m so hungry for another person’s touch, it almost feels good. Then the fucker hugs me.
I’m not into hugging, so I close my eyes and try to will it to be over quickly. I feel grateful when he pulls away.
“Let’s have some donuts,” he says, opening the bag. “You’re not eating donuts yet.”
“I’m not even hungry.”
“You know we got that shit settled last night once and for all—with Aren’s old crew. I ran into some of them out at the pool hall. We did some coke—I was buying—and that young one said they’re getting out of half the stuff that Aren had his nose in. They don’t want more trouble with us.”
I nod.
“You know how I know you’re not good?” He laughs. “You didn’t even ask, just now. You didn’t ask what it is they’re getting out of. You don’t even give a shit. You know that’s weird, right?”
“Don’t tell me what’s weird, Alesso. I don’t think you want that going both ways.” I feel a swell of irritation rising up beyond the ice block in my chest.
“You know how I found out about the baby? Your baby? Jace told Max that she resigned.”
“What?”
He nods. “She said she’s having complications with her pregnancy, but she’s not. Max told me she’s packing up to move to Italy. Guess you’ll never see them now.”
I stand up. “Enough.” I point to the door. Alesso blinks. “Get out.” He frowns then starts to open his mouth. “I’m not fucking kidding, Aless. Come back later, but right now, you need to get the fuck out.” When he doesn’t stand, I pluck up the bag of donuts. “Take these with you. And go.”
He gives me a look like he’s surprised, and I feel a barb of guilt.
“You can keep them.” He hands the bag to me as he goes. I watch him walk out to his car with his head down. I watch him pull out of my driveway. Then I throw on some clothes, grab my keys, and go.
Epilogue
Elise
My rented car is different than I thought it would be—toy-sized and bright blue—but at least the steering wheel is situated on the normal side, so it’s not hard to drive. Even so, by the time I park it in the grass in front of my new, seaside cottage. I guess that’s what I get for moving abroad when I’m within weeks of giving birth.
I park the car near the stone porch and glance at my bags in the backseat. I didn’t bring much. I’ll do all my shopping for the baby now that I’m here. It’s a little radical, I know, but my cousin who lives half an hour away is a doctor—an obstetrician. So it’s workable, if weird.
I get out slowly, still jet-lagged and feeling kind of like I’m living in a dream. The grass around the house whips in a breeze that’s blowing in over slate gray ocean waves. The sun is setting, so the sky is bright pink. It looks like a dream, that’s for sure. It’s beautiful enough to make my throat knot up.
It’s beautiful, but no one’s here to see it with me.
You are not crying about that right now.
I used to think I was a crier, but lately I’ve been doing better. It’s been weeks since I heard from Luca. One day, he just stopped texting. I kept waiting for him to get back in touch, but when he didn’t…how could I be surprised? As devastating as it’s been, I’m really not. I know him so well. I can picture every single thing his saboteur brain is throwing at him.
When I went to his house to tell him I was moving here, I couldn’t find him. No one I asked knew where he was. So I flew out last night without the closure I had wanted. No tears. Naturally, I get here and see the sunset, and this is when I want to break down.
I breathe deeply as I walk slowly to the front door: a thick, heavy-looking slab of dark wood that’s curved at the top. I check the instructions in my pocket and lift a terracotta flower pot by the braided doormat, beneath which I find a key. I slide it into the keyhole, turn slightly, and push the door slowly open.
As the home’s living room is revealed—pale and airy, just the way it looked in the pictures—I force a smile onto my face. My little bean and I will be so happy here. It’s what I’m projecting. I’m going to make it happen.
I walk all through the furnished cottage, checking over everything from the two bedrooms to the unexpected DeLonghi espresso machine gleaming on the counter. There’s a pot of lavender in the kitchen window. It spills its scent into the breezy air, filling the house with one of my favorite smells. Still, I feel no real emotion.
The place is quiet, with wind whipping around the stone walls. I can hear the breeze move through the roof, smell a bite of salt in the air. The humid air makes promises: that we’ll be comfortable and happy, that we’ll have a fresh start.
If nothing else, it’s peaceful here. Peaceful and quiet. Quiet and lonely.
Not for long, I tell myself with some force.
I pour myself a glass of water and eat some raisins from my purse at the round kitchen table, as if this is dinner. I can hear Dani’s voice in my head. “It’s not that I don’t support you, fishy…it’s just that we’re worried.”
I don’t want to play that out again, not even in my head; it’s too exhausting. So I look down at the table, tracing grooves in the wood with my fingertip. Telling myself that it’s better here than stateside. There was no way this was going to work out there. Being near Luca, but never hearing from him…fielding the congratulations from people who thought Jace was my baby’s father. It was too much.
As I walk through the furnished house again, I tell myself it’s okay to be proud of my choice. Even if no one else gets it. Even if Dani and Ree pretty much told me they think I’m insane. Sometimes you have to do what you need—even if that’s running off to Italy to live—alone—until you have your baby—alone.
I swallow hard and drift back into the kitchen. There’s a plastic bottle drying rack beside the sink, surely put there by Mrs. Bruno, my landlord for the next three months. It’s not so lonely here, I tell myself.
Finally, when I’ve explored the cabinets and the fully stocked refrigerator, I let myself out the back door. My gaze sweeps the golden sand and glittering sheet of water, shining now with the sun’s last rays. I squint at a dark blot in my view before realizing it’s a person. More specifically…it looks like a man’s muscular silhouette.
Just my luck, I think with a soft laugh. Meeting a guy is the last thing I need. Even though Luca and I aren’t currently together, I still harbor—I’m not sure what they should be called. Hopes? Delusions? Obsessions?
I heard Dani on the phone with Max about a week before I left, and I know she was telling him to contact Luca—even Luca’s friends, if need be—and let them know that I was going abroad.
“He’s going to make this right,” she said. “I know he is.”
Her tone was desperate. And it never happened. He’s too afraid. Too damaged, maybe. I can’t stand to think of him that way, so again, I center myself, nudging my shoes off and digging my toes into the sand.
I start toward the seashore, my eyes hung up on the man who’s still standing there by the water’s edge, not thirty yards away from my cottage. Now is not the time for small-talk with a stranger. I’ll go for a walk—just a short one; maybe I can find some shells—and when I get back, he’ll be gone.
I angle myself leftward, thinking I’ll walk in the direction of some other cottages in this cove. I walk quickly, softly, holding my breath, hoping that the man won’t turn around and greet me. But it doesn’t work. When I’m within ten feet of him, he turns toward me. I look over at him, prepped with a polite smile.
But it’s Luca.
For a moment, I wonder if my jetlag plus the pregnancy is causing a hallucination. I blink and keep blinking, as, with every step he takes, it’s more clear to me that it really is Luca. The silhouette transforms into a person clad in swim trunks and a dark sweatshirt. He stops within reach of me, looking tight-lipped,
nervous. He smiles in that fleeting way of his—even as he reaches for me and I rush into his arms.
The hug he gives me is one for the ages. I’m tucked tightly against him, my lower half angled away because of my baby bump as his arms find their way around me and his chin fits above my head. I can feel him breathing fast and hard as his hand cups my shoulder, rubbing almost frenziedly. “Rosa…oh God.”
His hand cradles my belly, and he makes a soft sound, almost like a sob. But when I look up, he’s dry-eyed, his eyes round with wonder.
“Luca…what are you doing here?” My voice breaks as tears fill my eyes. I guess maybe I’m a crier after all. He’s lifts me in his arms, turning a circle as he hugs me again. His mouth is near my ear, and I can feel him trembling.
“I am so, so sorry.” His chest shudders. “I don’t know how I fucked up this bad.” He pulls away from me, so we can see each other. “You’re the only thing I’ve ever wanted, and I blew it. I let how I felt about myself and my past let me think you wouldn’t really want me around. Once we’d been together…you’d change your mind,” he rasps. “Or, worse than that, I thought I might make the baby’s life, or your life, worse. I couldn’t imagine you quitting your job so we could be together.”
He looks down. I can feel him note how much bigger my belly is; he glances up at me and spreads his palm over it. “Jesus, rosa.” He wraps an arm around my neck and presses his face to my shoulder. For a long time, I don’t think he can speak. He’s just breathing.
“Still don’t know the gender,” I whisper.
He looks up at me again, and there are tears in his eyes. “I’ve fucked up so much. When I heard you were leaving New York…in a way it was the best thing I had ever heard. I didn’t feel like it was right for you to have to quit your job because of me.”
“I wanted to,” I interrupt. “I told you I wanted to.”
“I know.” He swallows and hangs his head. “I couldn’t get around…this idea that it was your dream, and you’d be giving it up because of my…fuckups. But then I found out you were leaving—” He shakes his head. “I think it woke me up. And I realized you meant it.”
“What? That I’d give up my job for you? I know what I want, Luca.”
“And I know what I want, too.” He breathes deeply as his face goes soft, expressive. “I want you forever. Anywhere and everywhere, I want to be yours, and I want to give you what you need and want…and provide for our baby. It’s weird, leaving what I’ve been in for a long time. But I don’t even miss it. Not a single fucking thing about it.” I can see his jaw flexing; I know him well enough to know he’s struggling not to break down. “Kind of like a shirt that doesn’t fit or something. But…I don’t know what does fit.”
I stroke his nape and rub his shoulder, and a single tear falls down his cheek. “All I really know is you. It’s you that I need. I’m afraid of fucking up, of tying you to all my shit. But I can’t let another day go by without making you mine.”
He reaches into his pocket and draws out a small, wood-carved rose. The petals look so real, it’s almost difficult to believe it’s made of wood. It’s got a long stem, even thorns. “I had this idea about a rose.” He gives a nervous laugh and holds the thing up, and we’re both laughing. His nervousness has spread to me; all of a sudden, my heart’s beating too fast.
“What’s in a name? A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” He holds the carved rose out to me, and I take it, marveling at the incredible craftsmanship.
“La mia rosa, would you take my name?” He takes one of my hands, his fingers pressing something small and cool to my palm. Then he drops down on one knee, pushes his forehead to my leg, and wraps an arm around the back of my knee as my heart pounds so hard the seashore tilts.
He looks up. “Will you marry me, Elise O’Hara? I’ll take care of you forever. No more bad Houdini acts and none of my old life. I can be anything you need me to be”—his voice cracks, and my throat tightens—“because I love you more than anything. I always have, since we were just kids.”
His mouth trembles. I can tell he’s going to say more, but I sink down beside him in the sand. His arms wrap around me, drawing my body into the shelter of his. His hand is in my hair, holding my head against his chest—and I can feel his fingers shaking.
I kiss his throat. “Luca…yes.” I’m laughing as I look up at him. “Yes…and yes…and yes…and yes more.” Tears are dripping down my cheeks. I frame his face with my hands. “I will take your name. Of course I will.”
His mouth covers mine. The kiss is soft and gentle—salty. His mouth slants a little harder at the end, and then he’s pulling away, his hands finding mine.
He says, “I want to put it on.”
I haven’t really looked at the ring until it’s in between his thumb and pointer finger. “Oh my goodness.”
He laughs. “Is that good?” He sounds nervous.
“That’s a big diamond.” I laugh at the near-ridiculous beauty of the teardrop-shaped gemstone, set in a simple yellow gold band. “Are you sure you didn’t find it in a pirate’s ship?”
“I bought it the day I found out you were leaving the D.A.’s office. My friend Alesso stopped by and told me.” He breathes deeply, looking down at the sand as his jaw works for a moment. He smiles again, meeting my eyes. “I was at this place—this antique jewelry place, that only has old diamonds, not the new ‘blood diamonds’—in an hour flat, la mia rosa.” He gives a hoarse laugh. “Didn’t want to come to you without a ring. I kind of didn’t want to ask you at all. I wanted to just be here when you landed.”
He blows his breath out, pushing a hand into his hair. “I got here a week ago and met the woman that you’re renting from. Found out she’s got some other cottages in case you didn’t want me in yours. But I got your place ready, rented myself a bike. Then I started talking to…this therapist.” His voice sounds choked on the word. “I started talking to her and stuff. She said I can come two times a week.”
I watch as tears gleam in his eyes again; it’s strange to see, because he’s smiling—almost grinning, really. “So that’s all I have to do. Sit at the beach, help you put little person things together…if that’s okay.”
I kiss him gently. “It sounds perfect, cuore.”
“Until the baby gets here…”
“And then what?” My stomach flip-flops.
He shakes his head, wide-eyed, like a startled owl. “Then nothing. And then we just…will stop sleeping.” His eyes widen again. “I heard that’s how it works, right? Those things don’t sleep.”
He gives me a topsy-turvy smile.
My heart begins to hammer. “What about Roberto—and the other people in your circle? You said you’d be needed after…what happened in the garage.” I can barely even whisper it.
“That’s all been settled. Roberto, he wanted me to do what made me happy.”
“Are you for real?”
He laughs, sort of tugging at his hair again. “I wouldn’t make it up. I’m a fulltime dad, I guess.” He swallows. “And husband,” he says hoarsely. “If you’re sure you want that.”
His hand cups my cheek as heat flames in my face and throat and chest.
I want it so much, I start crying again. Luca looks startled, and then I’m clutching his neck. He pulls me onto his lap. I’m shaking so badly he can barely get the ring onto my swollen finger.
“My fingers are fat.” I can’t help cackling laugher as I look down at my hand. “It fits, though,” I whisper. “It’s not too tight.”
“I wasn’t sure what you would want,” he murmurs, “so I hope you like it.”
“Oh my God, Luca.” I’m laughing, tugging his dark hair. My palm caresses his face, which sports some stubble, and I look at him—like really look, to assess. “I love it so much. And where’s the rose?”
He plucks it off the sand. I hold it to my chest, and now I’m trying so hard not to outright break down on the beach.
“You were all that’s missing.
When I got here, that’s what I thought. It felt too quiet, too lonely—because you were missing. But I didn’t know if I would ever get to have you.” Tears are streaming down my cheeks—because it really is painful.
He hugs me. “I’m so sorry. Never again. No matter what, I promise that I’ll never make you question things that way. I’ll always be here.”
He presses his lips together, and I trace his lovely cupid’s bow. I stroke his dark hair again; it looks longer than it was last time I saw him. “I’ll always be here, too. It will be easy, because there’s nothing about you that’s not everything I want and need.”
He leans in to kiss me. When we come up for air, he rests his forehead against mine. “Still don’t know if I deserve it, but I’m told that’s not the point.”
“No, it isn’t.” I brush my lips over his. “Let’s get married here in Italy.”
“You want to?”
I wipe my eyes. “I’d do it right now, but you might want more time.” I laugh.
“I don’t want time. Tomorrow works for me. Let’s do it.”
I’m laughing as he stands up, pulling me up with him. “Let’s go inside,” he says. “I’ve got dinner in a picnic basket.”
I can’t help another insane giggle. “This is so surreal. I almost can’t believe it.”
His fingers lace through mine, and he gives me a tight, sweet smile. Then he scoops me up and wraps his arms around me, as I wrap my legs around his waist and cackle at the sheer insanity of being carried when I’m whale-sized. Luca sets me on the cottage’s back porch, and I look at the sunset, and then him.
I end up in his arms again. We’re hugging, and I can’t let go.
“I think my feet are swelling, but I don’t want to move from this spot. I just want to know you’re here and this is real.” My voice breaks. I don’t mean for it to. I feel bad when I see my pain reflected on his face. He breathes deeply, banishing that look, and there’s another one in its place.
