“Are you leaving tonight or staying in?” he demands to know.
It takes me a minute to grasp his sudden change of subject. “I’m staying in.”
He heads toward the door, passing and ignoring me.
“We’re just going to leave everything unresolved again, Luca? We never talk about this and just continue on. If you walk out on me now, don’t bother coming back.” The threat I don’t mean leaves my lips without my thinking clearly. I try speaking in a calm tone, but my shivering bottom lip reveals my edginess.
He catches my eyes and grits his teeth. “I need to leave now and calm down. I don’t want to say anything I’ll regret.” Luca opens the door and disappears.
I clutch my stomach in agony.
He has another phone?
Why was he so upset about not reaching me? Every question causes more doubt in my mind. I’m still standing in the exact same place while my mind tries to comprehend what’s happening to us. Confounded, I go to my bedroom and crawl into bed. I can’t believe Luca would betray me, but that scenario is becoming more plausible with every day that passes. I don’t understand how I can sense that his love for me is so deep yet we’re still drifting apart. Unless I’m feeling things that have been long gone?
I fall into a restless sleep.
***
He didn’t come back to ‘our’ home last night. My apartment has been our home for weeks. Everything here reminds me of him.
I take my time in the shower, realizing I can’t afford to call in sick with this year’s biggest event in two days. I refrain from calling him. He left. Maybe he doesn’t want to hear anything from me? Maybe it’s over? Feeling miserable, I dress myself.
As usual, I first head to the coffee shop for my Lady Grey tea before taking the fifteen-minute walk to work. I’m reliving the past several weeks over and over in my head while standing in line to place my order. What did I miss? Have I been naïve and ignoring signs?
“Excuse me… Excuse me.”
I’m jarred from my thoughts by a customer behind me. The guy reminds me that I should order.
“I’m sorry,” I state, distracted, and move forward to order my tea. I’m fumbling in my purse, swallowing back a wide array of emotions.
The man behind me gently touches my elbow. “Is everything okay?”
I look at him but can’t find any words.
He orders a coffee and pays for both of us. Taking our drinks, I follow him to his table. I don’t join him as he takes his seat. “I’m sorry. I’m having a bad day. Let me pay you back.”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s on me. I noticed you seemed distracted. Please feel free to sit if you want,” he mentions nicely.
I hesitate at first, but I should calm myself before heading to work and decide to accept his offer.
Before I even get the chance to sit down, the front door opens loudly and Luca advances in,
stalking determinedly toward me. Luca with the same furious eyes as yesterday. He leans in close to my face. “Can I talk to you?”
Because of the uncompromising lines of his hard profile and my need to avoid a scene in here, I agree. “Thank you. I’ll see you around,” I greet the guy.
Luca pins him with a displeased look.
“It was my pleasure.” He doesn’t back down under Luca’s scowl.
I smile timidly at the guy when Luca places his hand at the small of my back and guides me outside. The door closes and I spin around as soon as I step over the threshold, eyes narrowing. “Happy now that you’ve marked your territory?”
His jaw clenches. “No. Trust me, that was me being civil.”
Suddenly a disturbing thought crosses my mind. “Were you following me?” Luca knows I first have a tea before walking to work, but this morning I’m almost an hour behind on my regular morning routine.
“Yes,” he confesses without any remorse.
“What?” I refuse to cry and suppress my hurt and surprise at his confession. “You said you would come back, and you didn’t. I’m going to work because I don’t want to talk to you now.”
“Fallon.” Luca softens his voice and tries to palm my face with one hand, but I avoid his touch by taking a few steady steps back. Luca rushes forward and almost stumbles over a steel chair trying to reach for me, his tightly leashed self-control breaking more and more.
“No. Do not follow me!” I march away before I change my mind, leaving him behind.
***
Still aggravated, I arrive at the posh, glass building, greet the receptionist behind her desk as my heels click on the tiled floor, and I take the elevator to the third floor. The building has over fifty floors, so it’s always crowded in every one of the nine elevators during rush hours. Standing in the full elevator, I’m glad when the door opens on the third floor. Our floor has five offices, but most of us sit together in the open space. The floor-to-ceiling windows and the black tiled floor give the space a simple, yet elegant, style. We each have a laptop and can seat ourselves at any white desk of our choice. It’s all highly informal. When in need of privacy, every employee is allowed to occupy one of the offices.
I’m relieved one of the offices is unoccupied so that I can grant myself a few minutes of privacy. I let out a terse deep breath when I enter the small office. It’s simple and understated, white and grey walls with a black floor. I arrange my laptop on the white desk. Throwing my bag on one of the two chairs on the other side, I power up my laptop and plant myself in the desk chair.
I swivel to glare outside. With my hands clasped together on my lap, I peer down to hundreds of people running through the streets. Everybody walking in the different directions that life takes them. Masses of people who each have his/her own individual story. Some might be joyful, some might be sad, some might be lonely. Among all the people across the street, there’s one person standing immobile, looking right at me. I need to know what his story is. Everyone steps around him. Green eyes that would always capture my attention in a room filled with thousands call to me, pulling me to him. The tiny hairs on my arms rise as his stare is locked on me, his impeccable suit in contrast with his anguished gaze. Neither of us relents, both of us observing, thinking, and anticipating what to do now?
Alex enters the office without knocking; I see his reflection in the window.
Forced to concentrate on work, I twirl back around.
“Good morning, Fallon. Tell me the speeches are done?” He sits in the vacant chair across from me.
I open the document in Word and print the two speeches I’ve prepared for tomorrow evening. Handing the documents to him, I emphasize, “They’re finished.”
“Anything else you need to tell me?” he asks in a derisive tone.
“No,” I retort curtly.
Alex’s lips turn up into a sardonic smile. “We’ll talk later.”
I spin back around in my chair to the window, only Luca’s gone. My laptop notifies me of incoming messages. I need the distraction and focus solely on putting the finishing touches to all the written communication for tomorrow. I check the menus with all the accompanying texts I wrote and send the final menu to the printer.
The day proceeds in a blur of last-minute arrangements in need of some extra help. Tomorrow, we’ll all be at the venue the entire day. The event is being hosted at the Silver Dahlia Hotel. I turn off my laptop at eight and see that I have several missed calls from Luca and texts from my parents and Teagan.
During my walk home, I call my parents and Teagan. My parents always encourage me to enjoy the events after my months of hard work. Teagan needs reassurance that Luca and I aren’t fighting. Not wanting her to worry on the other side of the ocean, I lie and tell her we’re fine.
At home, I take off my dress and heels in the living room. Fatigued, I drop face down on the couch and fall asleep without eating dinner.
Later that night, I wake when I hear the door opening and closing. I turn my head to see Luca standing in front of me, his thick, dark hair neatly combed back. His jaw, co
vered in a light, neatly-trimmed beard, never fails to enthrall me. This stunning man that chose to love me - the only man I’ve ever loved – is slipping away from me. It was all too good to be true.
He crouches before the couch, bringing us face to face. Gently, he tucks my hair behind my ear and coils his fingers in my tresses.
Tears are burning to explode, but I hold them in. Despondency is mirrored in our eyes.
“Am I losing you?” he whispers sadly while ghosting his fingertips down my spine.
As much as I want to give him a hopeful denial, I can’t. He is losing me, and I’m losing him. Only I’m clearly the one left in the dark as to what exactly is going on.
I move up as Luca sits on the couch and motions for me to sit astride him. He cradles my neck in both hands, pulling me close. The familiarity of his minty breath and citrus cologne used to comfort me, now it saddens me. I lock eyes with him. “What’s happening to us? I’m lost.” Even though I’ve grown to love him, I need to take care of myself and open my eyes. I need to end this carefully. Guilt sparkles in his eyes, spinning with pain and regret in his dejected appearance. I lean forward against his chest to hug my arms around his waist because the memories we’ve created together aren’t easily forgotten. I want to stand up, but Luca holds me firmly around my waist, afraid I might leave. “I don’t know where we go from here,” I confess in a muffled voice.
“Let me just hold you, please, Fallon. I just need to hold you.” He kisses the top of my head and stands up, so I circle my legs around his hips as he carries me in his embrace to the bedroom. He lays me down on my back before undressing, and then he slips in beside me under the covers. Luca flips me on top of him to softly stroke my back and sides.
That familiar voice in my thoughts telling me that his secretiveness is fueled by something far greater than I can fathom has finally been accepted.
CHAPTER 24
Fallon
The next morning and afternoon is hectic. We’re set up at the Silver Dahlia. Our guests arrive at six. The event is simple. We start with a seven-course dinner that we sold per plate, then an independent filmmaker will present a short documentary he filmed about the increasing numbers of orphans worldwide, and several vacations will be auctioned. The chef and the artists all volunteered, and we paid half the price for the venue and the vacations. Apart from the proceeds we’ll make from the tickets and vacations, our guests can donate money the entire night.
I return home to shower and change at four and wear my silk, blood red floor-length dress with an open back and a thigh-high split. My hair is up in a tight bun secured high on top of my head, and I’m putting my lipstick – the infamous red lipstick – in my golden clutch when I hear my front door unlock. I check the time: five fifteen.
Luca strolls into my bedroom and halts to gawk appreciatively at me. Standing behind me, he strokes the back of his forefinger down my spine. “Sei bellissima, dolcezza.” You’re stunning.
“Are you still coming with me?” I thought - with all the struggles of the last few weeks - he wasn’t joining me at the event. My plan to be apart more is backfiring on me. The moment I try to create a distance, he stops it and suddenly has time for me again. Maybe he’s onto me?
He steps out of his shoes and unbuttons his shirt. “Of course. I want to be there with you,” he clarifies pragmatically.
I don’t have time to think about this now. “Hurry. Shower.”
He takes off his pants in the bedroom and jumps into the shower. “Going.”
I check my dress in the mirror, and my eyes wander to his pants lying in a heap on the floor.
Should I check it?
This is my opportunity. The bathroom door is half ajar, fragrant steam rising from the small opening.
I hurriedly kneel and feel in his pockets. First comes out his smartphone and then another phone.
I knew it!
Throwing his pants back on the floor, I take the other phone and run through the hall, past the kitchen, and into the living room. It’s the phone I saw him slipping into his pocket the night he couldn’t reach me. It seems to be a disposable one. This is definitely an old model; it doesn’t even have a color screen. It’s a simplistic black cellphone with press buttons and a tiny display. He doesn’t have any contacts stored in it. I walk past the couch to the windows and glance warily back at the hall. The shower is still running. My hands are perspiring as I hurriedly search the cell for any useful information. I click different buttons but can’t find any messages. After entering another menu, I find them. There are messages from unknown numbers - no names - because none are stored in the phone. One message reads: ‘button.’ I wrinkle my nose in confusion while checking the next one. I can only read part of the message – ‘make a marriage’ – when a poised voice interrupts.
“What are you doing?”
I spin around, shocked.
Luca stands at the opposite end of the sofa with a towel wrapped low around his hips. With his taut ribcage perfecting his tanned, sculpted body and his damp hair attractively disheveled from towel drying, I hate that I have to fight to avoid being lured by his charm. The phone in my hand catches his attention, and his eyes snap back up to mine while he takes a defensive stance, bracing himself for my reaction.
An array of feelings including hurt, sorrow, betrayal, and curiosity sting me. Hurriedly, I try to decide what reaction I want him to see. My curiosity and determination to find out what exactly has been happening the last couple of weeks wins.
I need him to open up to me. How do I handle this?
I throw the phone at his chest, and he catches it clumsily when it hits him. “You are married? Married?” I comment in a rising tone.
Luca looks stunned. “Fallon, what did you read?” He sounds shaken, but it’s well-hidden. He glimpses at the phone and places it on the kitchen counter behind him.
“Does it matter? I knew… I knew you were lying to me. I’ve been suspicious for weeks.” I peek at him. My behind is leaning against the couch to keep me standing.
His impatient voice rings out, “Fallon, what are you talking about?”
My lips thin into a straight line. “Don’t you dare deny it. I read a message about marriage.” I bring my clamped left fist to my mouth. Grazing my teeth over my knuckles, I replay the last few weeks in fast forward through my mind.
Luca cautiously approaches me. “Fallon, it’s not what you think,” he denies. “There’s nobody else.”
My eyes turn into slits. “Why do you have another phone? Why do you go on so many business trips?” I take a step back, not wanting to be near him.
He tries to reach for me again, but the hurt stemming from my shaking body halts him in his tracks. My back is slightly pressed against the window.
Luca stands in my previous place at the sofa. He drags his hand through his hair. Sighing heavily, he pleads, “You’re wrong. I’m not married—”
The buzzer rings, signaling the cab is waiting downstairs to take me to the venue. I carefully avoid Luca and walk past the coffee table to tell the cab driver I’ll be down in a minute. All I want is to stay home, yet that’s the last thing I want. I head toward the bedroom to fix my makeup. With a cotton stick, I remove the smudges of mascara from under my eyes.
Luca follows me. “Should I wait here for you?” he asks tiredly, seating himself on the edge of the bed.
I put my makeup and phone in my clutch, and I leave. “No.”
My casual response jolts him and Luca runs up to me, still in his towel. “Fallon, we need to talk.” His left arm shoots out against the wall, blocking my way to the front door.
“Not now,” I hiss.
“I’ll wait for you here then,” he says resolutely.
“No,” I repeat. “You leave my house.”
Exasperation gleams in his dark eyes. It’s those darkening eyes that warned me I should guard my heart from this man. “Fallon, you have to give me a chance to explain. Tomorrow? I’ll come tomorrow so—”
“You’ll answer all my questions?” I interrupt fiercely. “Nothing will be left unresolved. That time is over. I want to know everything.”
“Yes.” His eyes narrow in doubt. “I’ll be here early, and I’ll call you later to ensure that you’re home safe.”
I sigh in defeat. “I probably won’t answer.” My brows rise in enragement when his impatience grows.
But he’s not intimidated by me in the least. “Answer your phone,” Luca demands, refusing to budge. In a kinder tone, he adds, “I would do it for your peace of mind if the roles were reversed.”
I sidestep him.
Luca’s fingers encircle my upper arm as I open the door.
I barely glance at him over my shoulder.
“Good luck tonight. I’m proud of you,” he expresses in a soft tone. “I will give you all your answers tomorrow.”
Amber collides with equally sad green before I close the door.
***
I arrive at the Silver Dahlia only fifteen minutes before dinner is served. Most of the guests are already seated. The restaurant has sixty round tables decorated with silver tablecloths and centerpieces of painted blue roses. I’m placed with my colleagues at a table for six next to Jason, who is looking dashing in his tux.
“Everything okay?” Jason notices my distressed state.
I nod as I sit down. “Yes, small disagreement. He’s not coming.” I glance at the empty seat next to me that is reserved for Luca.
Jason frowns. “He’s not coming because of a disagreement?” he asks, not suppressing his judgmental tone. Jason’s date, our co-worker Alexandra, overhears him and shows me a supportive smile.
I wave him off. “I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s enjoy our night.” I’m unable to talk about Luca without bursting into tears, so I try to stay in the present when the first course is served, but negativity engulfs me. Doubt is a treacherous feeling.
Will he ever give me straight answers? Have I naively fallen for a man who has woven an intricate web of lies to be with me? What has been true the last few weeks?
For Fallon (Chicago Syndicate) Page 14
