by SJ Molloy
“I was thinking more … coffee. How much wine have you had? You need to keep a clear head for our session to make any sense whatsoever.” She sounds curt, crossing her arms across her chest, pressing her mouth into a firm line. She is pissed. Just as well we are good friends and she is exceptionally forgiving. She will get over it.
“This is my first glass. Please join me in a glass … or … or I will make you coffee if you prefer,” I stutter, lowering my tone at the end. Cleverly, I backtrack, giving her the option when I see her scrunching her brow. I fail to mention I have had a few beers already.
The worry etched on my face and tiredness in my eyes is a dead giveaway that I would very much like a relaxed, casual conversation, not an intense therapy session like at her clinic. She appears to have other ideas. Why does she have to be so goddamn serious? It intimidates me. I feel as if I am about to get a good grilling.
“Just a coffee, thank you.”
Nodding, I set my wine down and head back to the bar area. Holding up a selection of coffee pods for her to choose from, she picks a decaffeinated one. I nod and then prepare the machine for her, but I feel her eyes burn me. She watches my every move. Trying to ease the unsettling tension, I ask her how her day was.
I give Casey her coffee and place a plate of those little truffles my cousin Annalisa made for us in front of her. Then I set the bottle of wine on the table and take a seat on the sofa across from her, wine goblet in hand. She eyes the bottle of wine conspicuously.
“So … Lexi. I want to ask you what you think about her, do you think she is coping better?” I just come out and say it, taking a long drink of wine, swirling it in my mouth to savour the flavour before swallowing.
“Yes, I do see improvement, and I’m sure she’s coping better. She seems to be more upbeat and enthusiastic, and she’s writing in her journal again. As Lexi is happy for me to discuss her progress with you, I will, but first I want to talk about you,” she says, blowing on her coffee.
And so it begins.
“Casey, look I am fine. I am coping just fine. I honestly would rather you put all your efforts into helping Lexi and Grace,” I say, staring at the table, avoiding eye contact.
“Lucca, let’s cut to the chase. You’re not sleeping. You’re not eating. You’re barking out orders to your staff. I’ve heard you on the phone and that is not you. You’re tense and suffering headaches. You barely let Lexi breathe without you. You’re agitated, and most of all, you’re stressed. Lucca … you are not coping. So talk,” she says, ticking off the top of her index finger.
Christ, she never wasted any time tearing into me. Casey is always direct with me, that is what I prefer, but with Lexi and Grace she is more sensitive, compassionate, and patient. I have always asked her to be honest and direct with me, and here she is doing so, and I feel like I have been kicked in the balls.
Now that I think about it … yeah, I have not been eating much. I do not have time and just forget. And I do not sleep because I like to hold Lexi in my arms and watch her sleep. I like to whisper against her skin and talk to our little one. And headaches … Casey would have a fucking headache or two if she had the pressures we have. Nothing two painkillers cannot resolve.
“Okay, I admit I might be a little tense,” I say sheepishly. I have in fact lost my balls, and she has only been here two minutes.
She removes her red spectacles from her face, placing them on her head. Shit … that is what she does when she wants to see right into your soul with her own eyes. Not through lenses. Laser right into my third eye. Drinking her coffee, she sits backwards, making herself more comfortable. Complacent. She can wipe that smug look of her face.
“A little?” she asks coyly.
I sigh. “Okay, I am tense a lot and stressed. Happy?” I say before taking another sip of wine, forgoing the mouth swirling to simply down it in one long gulp.
“No, I’m not happy. Far from it. I hate to see you like this, and I’m concerned about you. Lucca, you are my friend and you know I wouldn’t be saying this to you if I didn’t think I could help you. I want to help you. You need to open up to me if I’m going to be able to help.” Her voice sounds needy.
“I am opening up. I just told you I am stressed. What more do you want me to say?” I ask, feeling frustrated.
“I want you tell me you want my help. I want you to accept that you need help, and I want you to tell me why you’re stressed in order for me to help you, if not for you then for Lexi.” Raising her brow, she moistens her lips then presses them together.
Fuck … cards are right on the table. It does not take a fucking genius to work out why I am stressed. Come on, Casey, you could have been a little more tactful. Using Lexi to get me to talk … real crafty. She knows what motivates me. It has worked.
My eyes widen. I stare at her, right into her eyes. She holds our gaze with an impassive expression on her face. Exhaling, I break our eye contact first and turn my head. It is too hard. Staring her in the eyes is the beginning of the chipping process.
Do I want her help? Of course I do. I want to help Lexi in any way that I can. I would do anything for her. Anything. If it means allowing Casey to chip, shatter, break, and then glue me … that is what I will do. She has me. Since when is playing dirty a part of therapy?
“Okay, I would like your help. I would like to be able to help Lexi, and you seem to think that by me opening up it will help her. I will open up,” I say in a baritone voice, rather bluntly, waving my hand around with little enthusiasm.
Casey smiles. “Good. Look, Lucca, I just feel that if you’re stressed, if you’re holding onto tension, then Lexi will pick up on it, and the baby might pick up on it too. Lexi needs to be calm and relaxed. If she worries about you, then it’ll add to her angst … Some research shows that even in the womb babies are receptive to stress.” My stomach almost hits the floor. Is she fucking kidding me here?
Our little one sensing our stress. Fuck!
“The last thing I want is to add to Lexi’s concerns and anxiety, or to jeopardise the well-being of our little one. I would never intentionally hurt either of them. Casey, I am trying to be strong for Lexi, not weak and fragile. If I can keep grounded and be strong for us both, then she has a better chance of coping and being more relaxed. She needs me,” I say before taking another mouthful of wine. It is not rocket science. I must be a strong man and look after my dolcezza.
“I know you wouldn’t want to upset them, but you are only human, Lucca. You shouldn’t be ashamed to admit that you’re struggling to cope. Don’t be a martyr. Lexi needs you whole, focused and with a clear head.” She taps the side of her head trying to make a point. I stare into the corner of the room to admire the huge painting of Lexi on the wall that Grace painted.
Breathtaking.
The tension in my jaw is already relaxing while I admire my beauty on canvas.
“If I show weakness, then that will upset Lexi. I can guarantee that she will worry herself sick if she thought I was struggling. If I remain positive for her, she has a better chance of coping and trusting that I am able to look after her,” I reply, still admiring the painting of my beautiful angel.
“Lexi already is worried sick, Lucca. She is worried about you. What do you think we’ve been talking about? She hates to see you tense and anxious, and she’s hurt because you won’t open up to her,” Casey says with a gentle tone, but I do not look at her expression because I feel like all the air has left my lungs. The thought of me hurting Lexi kills me. It kills me inside. And it is a fucking painful death.
“Is that what you’re worried about? That Lexi will think you can’t look after her because you’re struggling to cope?” she continues in a soft voice.
Yes. That is exactly what I think.
I cannot reply. I feel tears stinging my eyes. The build-up of the pressure and the strain of everything over the last few months screws with my mind. And now to hear from Casey that I am in fact hurting Lexi crushes my soul and causes my heart t
o bleed. I had no idea that she would be worried about me that much, that I am affecting her like that. God … I do not deserve her.
I know she is worried about becoming a mother. I know that she is sickened by the press scandals and intrusion into our personal life. I know that she misses normalcy and her girlfriends. I know that she is petrified about Michael Parks, and I also know she worries about Grace. But … I had no idea that she worries about my well-being to the point of making herself sick.
Fuck! I am a selfish bastard.
I’ve been too busy fussing around her, trying to spoil her, giving her everything she needs and caring for her that I have neglected to see that I am falling apart around her and that makes her sick with worry. I am already letting her down. Fuck, I feel like I have been stabbed in the gut. My sweet, kind, innocent girl is worried about me. I bite my lip and feel the burn of tears nip my eyes.
“The fact that you haven’t answered tells me that you do feel that. Lexi would never think you were incapable of looking after her. Look at everything you’ve done for her already. When she agreed to marry you, she agreed to marry the man she loves. An honest man desperately in love, not a bionic creature, untouchable, strong, and powerful. She agreed to marry you, Lucca,” Casey says, placing her coffee down. Then she moves over to sit next to me on the couch and reaches for my hand resting on my knee.
“It is not about ego or pride. I am trying to protect her,” I say, feeling my throat tighten and eyes fill with unshed tears. Shit.
“Protecting her by hiding your feelings? You’re the one who always begs her to open up to you. And it is in no way different for Lexi. She needs to know how you feel deep inside. Not how you want to feel.” Casey rubs her hand over mine, and that small act of kindness is enough to make me bow my head and cry like a fucking baby. Shoulder jerking, stomach knotting, man-snorting pitiful tears.
I let it out. I let out several months of pain and worry. Pain, worry, and fear. Although I do my best to hold it in, I cannot. Emotion has got a grip on me. The tears flow, my pulse quickens, and my head throbs. My skin feels hot and itchy, and I am trembling, shaking like a big fucking pussy. What the fuck has gotten into me?
“If I tell her how I truly feel, how I am struggling, I will be letting her down even more. That is not protecting her … that is attacking her. Because that is not what she needs to hear.” I choke, reaching my hand up to wipe my eyes. Tilting my head, I let my hair fall and sweep across my eyes, trying and hide the goddamn ball-shrivelling state of me.
“I’m sure Lexi would appreciate you being honest and she would understand. If you don’t address your stress and emotions just now, then you are liable to explode … or worse have a breakdown, and where will that leave you? Fragile and most definitely broken. Now, that is not what Lexi needs. She needs you to open up so it doesn’t come to that. And I see it. It’s eaten away at you and is ready to surface. Then you’ll crash and burn and that would be far too much for Lexi to deal with,” she says, leaning forward, dropping her head, trying to engage me once more until I need to lift my head back up.
Yeah, kick me when I am down.
“It is just so hard, Casey. Everything is just so tough. The forward planning with security … hiding … trying to effectively run my businesses … the business trips … not having any leads on Michael Parks … Lexi being sick and anxious … making sure everyone at home is safe … not having any privacy or alone time … the press … reporters … the shit they print about Lexi’s past. It hurts me so much. I cannot stop it, change it, or take it away. It is all taking its toll, and if I feel like this, then I hate to think of how Lexi feels inside.”
“Lexi is doing remarkably well. You should be so proud of her, and you’re doing a marvellous job of looking after her, of running your businesses, and keeping everyone safe. You know she absolutely loves you, idolises you, and appreciates everything you do for her. I don’t think that by opening up to her she would see you as weak. She’d respect you and appreciate that you’re feeling similar emotions to hers. That you are human.” Casey wraps her arm around my shoulder, and it feels nice to be comforted. I am normally the one comforting others. Shit, I really am a pussy.
Right now, it makes me yearn for Lexi’s touch. I want her in my arms. I want to smell her sweet skin, caress her tummy, kiss her beautiful lips, and slide my fingers into her hair. I want stare into those big brown eyes that melt my heart and leave me feeling inner warmth. I feel needy. I feel an urge to hold her in my embrace and never let go. God, I am desperate to be with her after the stressful day I have had.
My thoughts are all over the place. I feel so tired. I want to tell my dolcezza I am sorry for not being honest, for making her worry, and for upsetting her. I want to promise her I will never hide my true emotions again, and I want to tell her how much I need her. I need her to comfort me. I want her to hold me and tell me everything is going to be okay. I want her to hold me until we fall asleep together, and I know she is safe in my arms. But I do not want her to see me vulnerable.
“I know it is not forever and things will get easier, but you need to tell her how you feel. I promise you that by sharing it with her, you will feel so much better, and the two of you will most likely feel more connected and will be on the same page,” Casey reassures me.
I know she is right. I reach for a handkerchief from my pocket and wipe my nose and under my eyes.
“I do not know how much more I can take. I love Lexi, more than life, you know that. She is my life now, and I thank my lucky stars fate intervened, and she walked into my life, but I hate to see her go through this. I want very much for us to start our family without looking over our shoulder. I want to give her the life she deserves and the one I promised her,” I say, closing my eyes and shaking my head, feeling a pang of guilt that I have not been able to give her what she most desires … a normal life … one in the light. My light.
Fresh tears gloss over my eyes, a raw sting on my cheeks. God, how does Lexi do this? How does she cope with all the crying she has endured in her lifetime and is still experiencing. Crying is fucking exhausting. Women must be equipped better than men to deal with this emotional barrage, because shit, if it is not a complete mindfuck.
“Lucca, that’s the thing. You have given her life. You’ve saved her, protected her, given her a sense of purpose, taught her how to trust, how to love … how to feel loved. You have given her wings, opened her eyes, boosted her confidence, taught her how to feel, and the changes I’ve seen in her since you two have been together is simply amazing. You’ve done more for Lexi than all my years of therapy ever have. You have been the making of her … and never forget that.”
Turning in my seat, I look at Casey, and when I see the love, the kindness, and sincerity in her eyes, I drop my head on her shoulder. Protectively, she wraps her arm around me in a motherly kind of way and holds my head, her chin resting atop.
“Lucca, I mean every word. You’ve given Lexi a new start … and a new life. Your baby … that is a new life, something to look forward to and fill both your hearts with hope. I know this is a stressful time, but you need to regroup and find that peace you once had. Be honest with her, and she’ll love you all the more for it. I know this because I believe she is desperate to hear it from you.” Casey pats my back.
That gets my attention. I sniff, snort, and exhale a huge breath of air. Sitting up straight, I wipe my nose again, run my thumb along my jaw, and try to focus through blurry eyes. Lexi must have told Casey she wants to hear it from me. My girl … unsure and needing my honesty.
“Telling her, opening up is one thing, but I do not know how to get rid of this stress, how to ease my tension, other than being with her twenty-four hours a day, but I do not want to suffocate and smother her either,” I add.
I hope that Casey has a secret plan. She always knows how to fix things. She needs to fix this. I have bared my soul to her and cried like a fucking girl. She needs to come up with the goods now.
�
�Okay, tell me what you enjoy, what helps you relax?” she asks, picking up a truffle and popping it in her mouth. I do not even have to think about it. Sex, lots and lots of sex with my girl. That is what centres me and makes me feel better. The devilish grin on my face must be a dead giveaway.
“And keep it clean,” she adds in a stern, no messing type of tone while rolling her eyes.
“Making Lexi happy,” I answer, placing my hand over my chest pocket to feel the pen close to my heart.
“I knew you would say that. What would make Lexi happy right now … other than you opening up to her I mean?” She picks up her coffee mug and takes another drink. Following suit, I lift the bottle of wine and top up my glass then sit back and rest my hand holding the goblet across the arm of the couch.
Realistically, Michael Parks out of the picture and the press a distant memory, but that just is not possible right now. I know that Lexi wants the same as I do, and it shreds me that I am unable to give it to her right now. I think of the last time I truly saw the sparkle in her eye … her birthday when I brought her girlfriends and family over here.
“Her girlfriends, she misses them a lot. Talking on skype and the phone is not the same as spending quality time with them. She misses those DBB things they liked to have. You know, sleepovers, girl gossip, and stuff.” I rub my thumb around the wine glass rim. I contemplate how I can make it happen. The last time they were here, it was easier as the press were not all over everyone. Hmmm.
“Then try and bring her friends over. It will do you both good to have some time apart and spend time with your own friends. It is healthy,” Casey says nonchalantly. I almost choke.
“Not a fucking chance. I am not leaving her or spending time away from her. I am all for her having time with her friends, but I will be close by.” It is not even an option. Does she think I would just leave her side? What if something happened to her or the baby and I am not with them? I made that sorry mistake before in life—twice—and I will never do it again.
