Hold On to Me

by Victoria Purman

The look he’d shot her when she walked out into the day stayed with her. How could he know the truth about what had really happened in her bed and in her head? Stella had started out thinking they were simply blowing the lid off the combustible sexual tension that had been brewing between them. But it had been so much more. She’d been on the verge of opening herself up, and her demons had fought back.

  It hadn’t been a mistake. She wouldn’t regret having Luca in her bed. Not for one second. But the night with him had to be put in its place. She’d learnt the hard way not to need people. She’d had a lifetime of people letting her down. Her parents. The system. Teachers who should have seen what was going on but remained silent. Her wonderful aunt had been the only light in her life, her only saviour.

  That fiercely independent streak she had? It was born of necessity, not nature. So, she’d become used to being alone. She relied on no one but herself, a skill she used for the whole of her life, in and out of the bedroom. When she’d lapsed, let herself trust someone, Sully had almost ruined her. And since him, she hadn’t found anyone even worth a second or third shag, let alone someone tempting enough to risk opening herself up to the wanting.

  Until now. Until Luca.

  She kicked her shoe against the stone path. Who was she kidding? That fun she thought she was having with Luca? It wasn’t fun. It was so much more. And that’s precisely why it had to end.

  She’d let go last night and, hot damn, it had been good. Her heart was still trembling in her chest, and it wasn’t from all the walking, and her lips ached from his insistent mouth. Having a younger man—and one who really looked at her, and really wanted her—in her bed or in her life put her so far out of her comfort zone she didn’t know where to begin. She couldn’t have sex like that again. Because it had been too good. It had been blow-your-head-off, forget-your-own-name-and-all-the-things-you-hate-about-your-body sex. Just as she’d shut Sydney away, and all the pain that went with it, she’d also learnt to shut away the part of her that wanted real connection. When they’d come along, she’d made do with guys like Duncan. Guys she could take or leave. Guys who never made it past her real defences. And who turned out to be pleasant but no challenge to her heart.

  Her problem was that sex with Luca had been the kind of sex that made her miss it. Being with Luca had made her miss that intimacy.

  But now it was done. She would have to close the door on it and on him. She had too much to lose by letting anyone in.

  ‘Ciao, Luca Morelli,’ Stella said into the wind sweeping up from the ocean, and turned back for home.

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  Luca looked across the room at his sister and lifted his chin in a silent greeting. Anna Morelli was on a dining chair next to Francesca’s highchair and she was looking at him with suspicion in her eyes. Luca didn’t feel like smiling but couldn’t stop himself at the sight of his niece covered in what he hoped was squashed banana.

  ‘I need coffee.’ Luca pulled up a chair on the other side of the table and crossed his arms, giving Anna the not-too-subtle hint that he didn’t want to talk about anything.

  ‘What, Stella doesn’t have coffee?’

  Luca looked out the windows to the view. What crazy part of him had imagined he could not talk about Stella? Was there no fucking privacy in his family? He stood and went to the small kitchen. He knew where everything was so he began to help himself.

  ‘What happened, little brother?’

  Francesca cooed and he looked back over his shoulder. Anna’s eyes were narrowed suspiciously. His niece wore a beaming smile and she gurgled in his direction.

  ‘She’s going to break hearts one day,’ he said. ‘She is seriously cute.’

  ‘You mean Stella?’

  Luca shot his sister a look.

  ‘Oh, Francesca. Yeah, she’s cute. Especially at two o’clock in the morning. So, you’re not going to tell me?’

  Luca positioned the small coffee cup under the twin spouts of the European machine on the counter. He pressed the brew button and, after a moment, two thin streams of coffee began filling his cup. He watched it intently, mesmerised by the aroma.

  ‘What kind of beans?’

  ‘Ethiopian. Double roasted.’

  ‘Nice.’ Luca took the cup, topped it up with a little cold water, and downed the shot. He put the cup in the sink and came back to the table. He needed the caffeine hit like he’d never needed it before. He didn’t know why the hell he was so flat. He expected to feel tired, but not wrung out like this. He was confused as hell and the thought briefly crossed his mind to swear off women altogether. It didn’t stay there longer than half a second.

  ‘Where’s Joe?’ he asked, distracted.

  ‘Surfing with Ry and Dan. Apparently there’s a swell off Middle Point, but don’t ask me what the hell that means. You want some more banana, bella?’

  ‘What?’ Luca asked, confused.

  Anna laughed. ‘Not you, you idiot.’ She passed Francesca a slice of fruit and it was hurriedly gobbled up with a giggle.

  ‘Right. I’ve got to get going.’ He kissed his sister on her cheek and then did the same to his niece, avoiding the squashed banana by smacking a kiss on the top of her head.

  ‘When are we going to talk about the kitchen? Have you done any work on the plans yet?’

  Luca was at the doorway but he looked back to the small room. ‘Yeah, cos I’ve had so much spare time.’

  ‘Don’t take too long. Ciao,’ Anna called.

  ‘Ciao,’ Luca called back and let the screen door slam behind him.

  Stella opened her front door to silence and a hungry cat.

  ‘Give me a minute, will you, Mouse?’ she whispered, and then wondered why she was bothering. Luca must have left. There was no sound, save for Mouse’s purring. Something washed over Stella, and she took a moment to decide whether it was relief or disappointment. He was definitely gone. Everything in her house was back in its place. Order had been restored and her sanctuary was safe once again. Not even a throw cushion had been shifted the night before. They hadn’t made it to the sofa, anyway.

  She’d already known so much about Luca before that, the kind of person he was, his loyalty, his hot desire for her, his passion, his dedication. People couldn’t spend weeks working in such close proximity and not learn things about one another. He liked to flirt. He liked to look at her. He liked to make her laugh. He had great attention to detail. He was proud. She knew all that before she’d taken him to her bed.

  Now, so much more had been revealed. What else did she know about him now that they’d slept together? There were layers to Luca that she could never have guessed. He liked to fuck. He was good at it. Oh sure, he had that swaggering confidence that any young man who looked like him would have. But there was nothing young or impatient or egotistical about the way he fucked. She couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d been more interested in her pleasure than his own. He’d grinned when he’d made her come with his mouth and then wanted to be inside her while she was still riding the orgasm. At first, he’d been fast and strong, then slow, teasing, reeling her in and then making her wait. Just like he took great pride in his work, he seemed to take great pride in being a good lover. She was still throbbing from it.

  Stella tried not to trip over Mouse as she plodded to her bedroom. She stripped off her clothes, only glanced once at her empty unmade bed, and then ran a shower, but she didn’t find much relief in the sluice of water over her shoulders and her muddled head. She had the rest of the day to get her thinking straight before she crashed into the post-Christmas sales in the shop. She had the rest of the day to do her thinking about Luca Morelli and then file it away.

  When she was dressed in her yoga pants and a loose linen T-shirt, she half-heartedly went to the fridge. She wasn’t feeling hungry but thought she should probably eat something. She poured some orange juice and slid two pieces of bread into the toaster. Once they were smeared with Vegemite, she took her plate and her juice over to
the sofa and sat down.

  That’s when she saw the note on her DVD of It’s a Wonderful Life.

  She reached over to the coffee table and picked it up.

  Not sorry we didn’t get to watch your movie.

  Stella read it. And then read it again. She distractedly pressed Play on her remote control and the opening titles began to roll.

  CHAPTER

  26

  ‘C’mon, Stella, its New Year’s Eve, for god’s sake. You cannot, I repeat, cannot sit here on your sofa and watch movies.’

  ‘Yes I most definitely can.’ Stella kicked out her legs and rested them on a pillow on her coffee table, waving off Summer’s pleading. She had a glass of sauvignon blanc in one hand, her first taste of wine in a week, and the rest of the bottle in the fridge. She planned to finish it all during the evening. The evening she’d planned to spend alone.

  Summer propped her fists on her hips. ‘I’m going to say it.’

  ‘Say what?’

  ‘Well … it’s just that … you’re turning into a nanna.’

  Stella chuckled, more at the concerned look on her friend’s face than the accusation. ‘See these feet? The ones with the pretty red toenails? I’ve been on them eight hours a day since the 27th. They ache. I’m too scared to look at them in case I have cankles. I don’t actually believe I can feel my little toes any more. They are begging for mercy, Summer.’

  Summer plonked herself next to Stella and checked her watch. ‘I simply refuse to let you sit here and wallow. You need to come to the Middle Point pub tonight and have a few champagnes. I haven’t missed a New Year’s Eve there since Ry bought it. It’s become the thing. You can’t miss out on the thing.’

  Stella reached out to pat Summer’s arm. ‘Really, Summer, I’m exhausted. I know it’s a great night. I was there last year. But you know that the holidays are the busiest time of year for me, right?’

  Summer eyed her friend suspiciously. ‘Of course I know that. But that’s not the real reason, is it? Something’s going on with you. You haven’t been the same since Christmas. You’ve been all mysterious and … I don’t know, hiding away here in your cottage at night like a turtle in a shell. Since I came back from Mum’s, you haven’t wanted to do anything. What’s going on?’

  Stella looked into her glass, swirled her wine around. She’d shared a lot with Summer over the years, and had even told her a little about Luca in the beginning. But she didn’t want to tell her what had happened between them. She was still trying to figure it out in her own head.

  ‘Nothing’s going on. Really. It’s just been full on, with the fire and the shop and …’

  And Luca. She’d been thinking way too much about Luca Morelli. There was a part of him in every corner of her renovated business. Every time a customer commented on the lovely sunshine streaming into her shop through the new skylight, she was reminded it had been his idea. It was the place they’d stood, her hand in his, and stared up at the brilliant blue sky. It was the first time she’d let someone help her with her business since Sydney. The first time she’d been open enough to see someone else’s idea for what it was, instead of as an attempt to control her, trick her. The first time in years she’d let someone else crack open that armour of hers.

  And all this thinking had to stop. She hadn’t seen Luca since Boxing Day, which was almost a week ago now. Stella felt it like a withdrawal after the close and constant contact they’d had with each other during the renovation. She hadn’t realised how much she’d enjoyed him, until she didn’t have his company.

  But their business together was over and there was no need for them to be communicating with each other any more. The distance between them said it all, really. They’d clearly been on the same page as far as their night together went, too. One night of hot sex. A resolution, the exclamation point on their working relationship. It had been fun: she didn’t want to lose sight of that. But that’s all it could ever be.

  ‘And?’ Summer enquired with a quizzical expression. ‘What else has been going on?’

  Summer was right. She had to stop thinking so much and just … well, not think so much. What would it hurt to down a few champagnes and see in the New Year with her friends? Stella put her wine glass down on the coffee table. ‘You know what? You’ve convinced me. I’m coming with you.’

  Summer’s face lit up. ‘You are?’

  ‘Just let me change into something more appropriate.’

  ‘You always look appropriate,’ Summer teased. ‘You won’t regret this, Stella.’

  As she walked to her bedroom, Summer’s voice grew louder. ‘You need to have fun. Julia promised there would be dancing. I’m dragging you onto that dance floor tonight and I don’t care if your little toes hurt. You got that?’

  The lights of the Middle Point pub twinkled in the twilight as Summer pulled into a park on the street out the front. She twisted her keys from the ignition and reached for her handbag.

  ‘Thanks for being the designated driver tonight, Summer. You are a doll.’

  She waved a hand. ‘Fair’s fair. I dragged you out. Plus you drove last time we had a girls’ night out.’

  ‘God.’ Stella had to think. ‘When was that?’

  Summer smiled as she undid her seatbelt. ‘July. When we went to Adelaide. Remember that hotel? I’ve never seen a bath so big.’

  They’d both shut up shop, midweek in midwinter, and taken off for three precious days of fun in the city. Stella had spent time window shopping and picking up some ideas from the bigger retailers and some particular boutiques that she kept an eye on, so it wasn’t totally a holiday. She’d checked out some of the European clothing retailers who’d opened stores in the capital and bought herself some expensive winter boots in the sales. They’d gone to Adelaide’s hippest new restaurants, fended off two extremely keen but slightly sleazy men, and sung karaoke until they were hoarse.

  ‘It’s a date for next July. Okay?’ Stella laced her arm through Summer’s and they crossed the road to the pub. They could hear the party from the footpath and walked right past the heavy wooden front door and took the back way, down the lane at the side of the historic stone building to The Market at the rear. The whole place looked so different from the way it was on Sunday mornings, when stalls with crafts and produce and books filled the space and the barbeque aromas of bacon and eggs on the grill tempted market goers.

  Tonight, candles flickered in the fading light at each table and the area was lit by strings of fairy lights looped from one market umbrella to the next. The sight of them reminded Stella of the photo Luca had sent her, and for a brief moment she wondered what he was doing. He was out with his friends, no doubt, some names she’d heard him mention a few times. Other young people. They were probably in a new pop-up bar in Adelaide somewhere, enjoying hipster meals and young-people company.

  She shook off the thought. There was enough delicious food at the Middle Point pub to satisfy even the most critical gourmet. Pickled octopus, local cheeses and sliced meats, olives from McLaren Vale and locally baked bread. Platters of gourmet delights were set on every table and Stella could see the sparkle of glasses at the makeshift bar by the rear wall.

  Stella had given herself a leave pass for the night and she needed one. The food, the wine and the company would help her remember who she was and where she was and how far she’d come. She grabbed Summer’s hand, manoeuvred her towards the bar and waved when she saw Lizzie and Dan smiling at them.

  ‘Hello, Style by Stella,’ Lizzie called before rounding the bar to hug her.

  ‘Hi, Lizzie.’

  ‘This looks incredible,’ Summer said, cocking her head at the party.

  ‘I love our New Year’s Eve tradition. Drinks here, the Victor Harbor fireworks off in the distance. It’s magical.’

  Stella and Summer graciously accepted Dan’s offer of champagne, and Stella was momentarily distracted by the bubbles sparkling in the twinkling lights. The night of the official reopening of her shop, Luca ha
d handed her a glass to settle her nerves before her big speech. She never quite figured out how he knew that she’d lost her notes and that a glass of bubbly was exactly the right way to get her to relax.

  Then Stella wondered why every damn thing seemed to remind her of Luca Morelli.

  She turned her full attention to Dan. The tall, dark and handsome temporary barman grinned at her. Lucky Lizzie, she thought with a smile to herself. Perhaps she had something else in common with the pub’s manager: a particular fondness for Men Who Can Do Things With Their Hands. And tall, dark and handsome. And … oh, she really had to stop it.

  Dan winked at Stella. ‘You ladies look seriously dehydrated. Get that into you.’

  Stella sipped generously and the bubbles tickled her lips. ‘Yessir. Tonight I’m doing as I’m told, aren’t I, Summer?’

  Summer tsked. ‘You know I had to practically beg and plead to get her here. She was curled up on the couch an hour ago.’

  ‘It’s true. But when Summer accused me of turning into a nanna, I had to fight back. So I put on my most gorgeous frock and here I am.’

  Lizzie reached over and touched the silky fabric on the skirt. ‘That is a gorgeous dress.’

  ‘Why, thank you.’ Stella did a little curtsy. It was another vintage find, one she’d brought home with her from Sydney. It was knee-length red taffeta, with a cinched waist, round neck and capped sleeves. It had a full skirt that flounced on her knees as she walked. She knew the red worked well against her black hair and dramatic red lips, and when she wore it she felt a little like a much taller and broader Audrey Hepburn. Maybe two Audrey Hepburns put together.

  ‘You ready for some dancing?’ Julia beamed as she asked the question.

  ‘I even wore my flat shoes,’ and Stella offered up one foot to prove it.

  Stella danced and danced and danced. She sang and sidestepped and boogied and bumped butts with Summer during a retro disco track, and eventually Julia, Lizzie and Anna joined them on the dance floor. Three of the five women had men standing by the bar, drinking beer and trying to appear as if they weren’t watching every move their partners were making. Stella noticed the critical appraisal and felt slightly deflated that there was no one watching her dance. She turned that emotion into more vigorous dance moves, twisting and jumping up and down on the spot, until she’d danced away all the confusion she’d been feeling about her sexy one-night stand, her increasing sexual tension and the extra worries and responsibilities she’d been burdened with during the previous couple of months.