Shit.
“Delilah, hate to break it to you, but we’re already happening.”
I shake my head, as if to block his words. “I still don’t understand why you did this.”
Luca’s eyes narrow. “Your lease expires in two days. You had nowhere else to go, nowhere I knew you’d be safe. So I moved you in, like we agreed on last night.”
“We did not agree on anything! You made a unilateral decision on my behalf.” I laugh, a little crazily, as I look at my things covering the majority of his floor space. “You do realize, of course, that this is insane?”
“Not seeing how, babe. You’re mine. I protect what’s mine. Simple as that.”
“Not simple as anything! I’m not yours. We barely know each other. We aren’t dating. Hell, we’re not even friends. And you think we can live together?! Even temporarily!? Are you nuts?”
His eyes get a little scary, when I say that. “You do what we did last night with barely even friends?” He takes a step closer. “You come like that for barely even friends? You scream out the name of barely even friends and fall asleep with them wrapped around you?”
I have no answers for him — none he doesn’t already know, otherwise he wouldn’t be asking.
No. I never do that with my best friends, let alone my barely even friends. I never do that with anyone at all.
Last night, with him… it was the first time I’ve ever been that intimate with a man. The first time I’ve let myself go, wholly and uncompromisingly. He saw the surrender in my heart as he consumed my body… and now he’s using it against me.
I jerk my chin higher, eyes flashing with defiance.
He steps closer.
“Come on, Delilah. Don’t back down now. Tell me. What was last night to you, huh?” His voice is pissed. “How are you going to explain that away? Another lapse in judgment? Another slip up? Just about the sex?” He glares at me. “Not buying it. It wasn’t just about sex. If it was about sex, we would’ve fucked months ago and moved on. Case closed.”
My lips press together.
His eyes lock on them. “You might not be able to admit it to yourself or to me, except maybe when you’re drunk out of your mind or half asleep, but this thing between us is real, and it’s not going away.”
I blink. “What do you mean, when I’m half asleep or drunk out of my mind?”
“Doesn’t matter.” He shakes his head. “What matters is, I care about you. I care about you. Why the hell won’t you just let me?”
My eyes fill with tears. His expression softens as he watches them cut angry paths down my cheeks. I don’t know how we got here, screaming at each other about moving boxes, when five minutes ago we were kissing.
It’s a mess.
“Can’t you see how screwed up this is?” I ask brokenly.
His eyes are steady on mine. “Yeah, I can see exactly how screwed up it is, babe.”
I get the sense he’s not talking about boxes. He’s talking about me.
I dash the tears from my eyes. “Don’t turn this around on me, Luca Buchanan. I’m not the one who stole the entire contents of someone’s house against their will and started this whole stupid fight.”
“Yeah? Well I’m not the one with such intense commitment issues, she can’t see something good even when it’s standing right in front of her.”
“I do not have commitment issues.”
“Delilah, you won’t admit to loving the twins or your dog, let alone a man. You have bigger commitment issues than anyone I’ve ever met.”
“Do not!”
“Do too.”
“Do not!”
“Fuck,” he curses. “I’m not having this fight with you like we’re in first fucking grade.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, we can’t go five minutes without fighting! Yet another reason WE SHOULDN’T LIVE TOGETHER!”
“Babe, half the time our fights are bullshit excuses for you to create distance between us, and the other half are foreplay. Already told you, I’m okay with the bullshit. Definitely okay with the foreplay, too, since what comes after is hands down the best sex I’ve ever had.”
My stomach flips.
He leans closer. “So yeah, we’ll probably fight, we’ll probably drive each other half crazy, but I don’t really give a shit because I’ve never felt this way about anyone before and, bullshit aside, I know you feel the same way.” His words hit me like a right hook to the stomach. “You may want to deny it, you may not be ready to face it, but the fact is… you and me are together. And if that scares the shit out of you? Fine. Be scared. But do it here. With me.”
“I— I—” I pull in a sharp breath. “I don’t know how to do this—”
“Neither do I.”
I can’t make eye contact. “Maybe… if you just give me some time to figure things out…”
His eyes narrow. “How much time? A week? A year? Enough to talk yourself out of even trying? Or maybe enough for me to give up altogether and walk away, like you seem so convinced I’m going to do any minute now?”
I wince at his biting honesty.
“Delilah… I’d give you all the time in the world if I thought for one minute that’s what you were really asking for, here. If that’s what this was really about. But it’s bullshit. You don’t need time to adjust to this, or space to figure things out. You want time to convince yourself it’s not worth giving us a shot.”
“Why are you pushing this?” I whisper, tears streaming down my cheeks. “Why now?”
“Have you already forgotten about last night? There are bad people after you. Police are on the lookout for them, so is Knox Investigations, but until they’re behind bars and we’ve dealt with the root of the problem, I’m not leaving your side. That means finding your brother before Scarpetta and Grafton do, plus making sure their boss doesn’t send in backups, when we take them off the board. Could take hours, could take days, could take weeks.”
“And after?” I ask.
A muscle leaps in his jaw. “After what?”
“After they’re behind bars. Then what happens with you and me?” I stare at him. “We just… go our separate ways? I move out, no harm no foul? Back to our old routine of avoidance?” My voice cracks. “That’s just going to make this harder, when it ends.”
“Ah. And there it is.” His eyes flash. “The real reason behind all this. You’re fucking terrified to get close. To get hurt. We’ve barely started and you’ve already planned our ending.”
“I have to get ready for Phoebe’s wedding,” I say, voice clogged with tears. I push past him and start walking toward the bedroom. “I don’t have time for this.”
“Well, I don’t have time for you to spend the next lifetime deciding if we’re worth taking a chance on. Christ, you say I’m pushing you? Delilah, without a push, we’d be eighty fucking years old by the time you realized we’re supposed to be together!” His voice is half-roar, half-plea. “Don’t know why it’s so hard for you to see that. I saw it the first time I looked in your eyes.”
I freeze in the doorway.
His voice gets soft — not gentle, though. Soft like a blade sliding between two ribs, a whisper of steel that pierces your heart.
“I know your sister died. I know you’ve never really gotten over it. But you can’t keep using your grief over her life being cut short as an excuse to stop living yours.”
I flinch as though he’s struck me. My shoulders shake a bit as an unstoppable sob moves through me.
I know he sees it, because I hear him curse lowly under his breath, voice stripped of all anger and full of remorse instead.
“Fuck. Delilah, I didn’t mean…” He blows out a breath. “I was pissed, it came out wrong.” His voice is grave as he forces out two infrequently used words. “I’m sorry.”
I don’t respond.
I don’t show any indication that I’ve heard his apology.
I simply step over the threshold, walk to the bathroom, and lock the door behind
me, not sure who I’m more upset with: Luca or myself.
Chapter Fourteen
If you don’t have anything nice to say… say something witty but emotionally devastating.
Delilah Sinclair, plotting her enemies’ destruction.
“How do I look?”
Gemma, Chrissy, Shelby, and I sigh in unison. For once, we’re all on exactly the same page.
“Beautiful,” Gemma whispers on behalf of the group. “You look absolutely beautiful.”
And it’s true. She does.
Phoebe West — very soon to be Phoebe Knox — is standing in front of a full-length mirror in her perfect Vera Wang wedding dress and lace-trimmed veil, her dark hair swept into an elegant up-do of coils and curls, counting down the minutes until her wedding. According to the clock on the wall, less than ten of them remain.
The smile that spreads across Phoebe’s lips is brighter than the sun as she turns to examine us, clad in floor-length dark blue bridesmaid gowns.
“You guys are beautiful, too.” She pauses. “I really picked some winning dresses. Flattering on all of you. And I think the navy was a good choice. Classic. Much better than the mauve I was leaning toward at first. Though, with the right bouquets it could’ve been pretty…”
I roll my eyes. “Little late to change it now, Phee.”
“True.” Phoebe turns back to the mirror for one final scan of her dress. “Though I, for one, am just happy you’re alive and able to wear any dress at all, considering what happened last night.”
“Phoebe, how many times do you want me to apologize for keeping the Duncan stuff from you? This is the third time this hour alone.”
“At least one more.” She winks at me.
“Fine. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you loan sharks were after me in an attempt to spare you from non-wedding-related drama. Honestly, I wasn’t trying to keep you in the dark. I just didn’t want to put a damper on the festivities.”
“You know what really would’ve put a damper on my wedding?” Her eyes narrow. “You being murdered the night before it because you’re too stubborn to let your friends help you.”
“Have to agree,” Gemma murmurs.
“Hear, hear,” Chrissy agrees.
“I don’t know,” Shelby says, tilting her head at me. “Might’ve made for a more exciting anniversary story…”
I flip her off.
We’re cloistered away in one of the smaller exhibit rooms, which the aquarium staff graciously transformed into a miniature bridal suite, complete with comfy white love seats, vases of fresh flowers, and several buckets of champagne. I arrived three hours ago to help Phoebe get ready and change into my own dress, still puffy eyed from my fight with Luca and the silent, stilted car ride that followed.
She was so busy scolding me for not keeping her apprised of the Duncan drama — God, Lila, I had to hear about this from Nate! — that she dismissed my atypical taciturnity as leftover shock from the attack.
Not clear signs of a slow-breaking heart.
My eyes press closed as I think back to this morning. When I emerged from the bathroom, Luca was setting up a small penned off area for Fenway in the kitchen — the floor lined with pee pads, a collection of toys for him to chew in our absence, fresh bowls of food and water. I wanted to thank him. I wanted to ask where the hell he found baby gates on such short notice. Hell, I wanted to scream how sorry I was and throw my arms around him.
But the words got stuck in my throat.
We exchanged not a single syllable from the time we left his place until we reached the aquarium. Thankfully, the drive was short: a five-minute trip down Atlantic Ave. Any longer, I might’ve caved beneath the crushing silence and done something stupid, like beg his forgiveness for being such a colossal, commitment-phobic bitch.
His words still echo in my head.
Delilah, you won’t admit to loving the twins or your dog, let alone a man. You have bigger commitment issues than anyone I’ve ever met.
My hands clench.
You can’t keep using your grief over her life being cut short as an excuse to stop living yours.
The sound of a cork popping pulls me out of my dark thoughts. Chrissy is pouring a bottle of Dom into flutes. She passes them around for one final toast, then hands a seltzer to Gemma.
Our glasses are poised mid-air when a knock sounds on the door.
“Who is it?” Phoebe calls, eyes wide.
“Your future husband.”
“Nathaniel Knox, don’t you dare come in here!” Her voice is stern. “You cannot see me in my dress yet, it’s bad luck!”
“Whatever you say, Phoebe.” He sounds amused.
“Nathaniel!”
“Relax. I’m not coming in. Just dropping off your present.”
Her breath catches. “Now?”
“Yep. I’ll leave it at the door.” He pauses, voice softening a shade. “See you soon, little bird.”
Her expression melts, knowing the next time they’re face to face, it’ll be to exchange vows. “Soon.”
She waits about thirty seconds to ensure he’s out of sight before she races over to the door and yanks it open. We’re all right behind her, eager to see what gift Nate has left behind.
Flowers?
Chocolate?
Lingerie?
Something old?
New?
Borrowed?
Blue?
As it turns out, all my guesses are wrong. Because the present isn’t a thing at all. It’s a man.
“Oh my god! OH MY GOD!”
Phoebe screams as Parker West swaggers into the room, wearing a perfectly tailored Hugo Boss suit and a wide smile.
“Hey, sis.”
“You’re here!” She throws her arms around him with such force, he’s knocked back a step. “You’re really here!”
“Of course I’m here, Sweet P. It’s your goddamned wedding.”
“Is Zoe here, too?”
“Already sitting in the front row, saving me a seat.” His eyes crinkle up. “I’ll join her after I walk my baby sister down the aisle.”
Phoebe’s eyes start to water.
Gemma steps up to hug her half-brother and scold him all in the same breath. “Don’t make her cry, we don’t have time to redo her makeup!”
Parker holds his hands up in surrender. His eyes drop to Gemma’s swollen stomach. “Wow, Gem. You’re about ready to pop.”
“Hopefully not for a few more weeks,” she says dryly.
“Am I getting a niece or a nephew?”
“Not sure yet.” Gemma places her hands on her stomach. “It’ll be a surprise for all of us.”
Parker nods and looks around, grinning at Chrissy, Shelby, and me.
“Lila.” His eyes twinkle. “I’ve been hearing some pretty interesting developments about you all the way out in the South Pacific. Zoe keeps me up to date on all the friend group drama.”
My brows lift. “Oh?”
He laughs but doesn’t elaborate. There’s no time to press him for details about his cryptic comment, because the venue coordinator appears at the door with a clipboard clutched in her hands.
“It’s time! The guests are seated upstairs and the groomsmen are lined up, ready to go. Phoebe, if you’ll just wait here for a few moments, until Nathaniel is on the upper level. The rest of you can follow me whenever you’re ready, and we’ll get started.”
I glance at my best friend. Reaching out, I squeeze her hand. She squeezes back in silence, love shining in her eyes. I know, in a few moments, Team Phee-Lilah may be coming to an end… but I can’t summon even an iota of sadness about it. When someone you love is so unbearably, incandescently happy, all you can do is shine with them.
“I’m ready,” Phoebe whispers, straightening her shoulders and smiling wide. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
My heart pounds erratically inside my chest as we enter the main room and make our way up the spiral walkway around the tank, past a blue wall of tropical fish, turtle
s, and rays. Halfway to the top, we find the groomsmen. They’re all stunningly handsome in their gray suits and blue ties, but my eyes cut straight to Luca. Our gazes lock instantly.
I suck in a breath as I close the distance between us and take my place at his side. My fingers clench the stems of my bouquet so hard the tips turn white. Behind me, I hear Chrissy giving Winston, her son, a last-minute pep talk before he bears the rings down the aisle accompanied by Phoebe’s Pomeranian, Boo, who’s wearing a navy bow-tie on his collar for the occasion. Upstairs, the string quartet starts playing, a sure sign that things are about to start.
I know I should look away from Luca, but I can’t. Our eyes are having one of those wordless conversations we’re so adept at.
You look beautiful, he doesn’t say.
Not bad yourself in that suit, I don’t tease.
Forgiven me yet? he doesn’t ask.
I wish it were that simple, I don’t admit.
Never been a fan of simple, babe. His eyes glitter. Nothing extraordinary ever comes easy.
My gaze snaps away as the music swells. Nate is already gone. Up ahead, Winnie starts walking, the ring box in one small hand, Boo’s blue leash in the other. Gemma and Chase wait a few beats before they follow him, linking arms and walking in slow, steady steps up the spiral. They look stunning together.
Luca’s arm appears in my peripheral. I glance up at him as I slide my fingers around his forearm, then give a slight nod to let him know I’m ready. And then we’re off — two redheads, arms intertwined, the facade of a couple on our way to celebrate someone else’s happily ever after.
It feels more like a death march than a wedding procession.
Luca is standing barely an inch from me, but he feels a million miles away. I know there’s no one else to blame but myself.
You really fucked this up, didn’t you, Lila?
Eyes stinging, I stumble a bit as we step onto the aisle, buffeted on all sides by chairs full of smiling faces. Luca is so attuned to me, he feels me trip almost before I do, and steadies me so instantly, I doubt anyone watching even notices.
My fingers grip his arm tighter as we walk down the aisle, up onto the platform. Before we part, he squeezes my hand. I haul in a deep breath as we file into our places, directly opposite each other. His eyes never shift from mine, not even when the quartet crescendos and Phoebe appears, looking statuesque and stunning alongside her brother. They don’t move away when Parker hands her off to Nate and takes his seat beside Zoe in the front row. They don’t waver as the minister begins the ceremony.
Take Your Time (A Boston Love Story Book 4) Page 24
