7. Chapter Seven
7
Sofia
“Ohmigod Aria, will you stop?” I giggled as I moved around Luca’s kitchen, my phone pinched between my ear and my shoulder as I cooked. “You know I don’t think of Luca that way.”
“I’m telling you ragazza , you should have seen the blush that lit up that man’s face when I mentioned all the extra…um, attention you’ve been giving him. And suggested that you might be up for more. A little nurse/patient roleplay?”
I slammed the spoon down. “You did not!”
Aria’s voice took on a high falsetto. “Oh Luca, you seem a little warm to me. Maybe I should give you a full exam.”
“Aria—”
“Clothes off, of course. I mean, come on, Sofia. Even after everything, that is still one fine man. That grizzled mountain man look he’s got going on with the beard and long hair kind of works for him.”
“Stop.”
“Two words: beard burn. You’ll thank me later.” Aria chuckled to herself. “Which reminds me, we should totally go out this weekend. You know, like old times.”
“I don’t know—”
At the other end of the line, I could hear her stamp her foot. “Come on! It’s been forever since we were out together, I miss you. I’ve got a couple guys I could call…or you could bring Luca.”
I sighed heavily. There was a distant part of me that wanted to say yes, to just let my hair down and not worry about every single thing in the world for a little while. But I wasn’t that person anymore. “I’ll think about it, Aria. I’ve got to go.”
“I’m going to keep asking until you say yes.”
Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen. “I know you will. Now, I’ve really got to go. Love you.”
“Love ya back.”
The oven buzzed, and I pulled out the garlic bread. Set it next to the salad to cool and went back to the sauce simmering on the stove.
Okay. I might have gone a little bit overboard.
It was all those takeout cartons. Luca had been subsisting—barely—on takeout and microwave meals, and God help my Italian ancestors, I could not let that stand. Not after spending a better part of the afternoon scrubbing his apartment into something resembling an actual home.
A Door Dash to Aldi had filled out the ingredients I was missing, and I had recreated my mother's famous chicken marsala, homemade parmesan-garlic pasta, and a side of fresh vegetables sauteed with herbs and butter. There were also cannoli from Mike's Pastry, which I knew were Luca's favorite.
It wasn't until I had it all assembled on the counter that I realized I'd defaulted to my mother's old profession of stress cooking.
There was too much food here for just me and Luca. It was the kind of spread we used to make on holidays, when every member of our family was coming over. But I guess I was still holding onto the hope that the old Luca was in there somewhere. That maybe, with some good food and conversation, he would realize that he hadn’t been forgotten.
I was still staring at the counter, lost in thought, when a key scraped in the front door. My stomach swooped and I quickly checked my reflection in the cracked hall mirror, suddenly nervous for reasons I didn’t want to think about.
Luca walked in, shoulders hunched like he had the weight of the world on them. One look at his face, and I knew that something had happened at the Compound.
"What happened?" I asked, going to him. He held up his hand and closed his eyes, turning his back to me. "Luca, are you okay?"
"I'm fine," he said, but there was a tightness in his voice that made me sure he wasn't. He stood there for a long moment, and I started to reach for him before I stopped myself. He didn't need me. He was fine.
I took a step back, looking at the table. The food was going to get cold if we didn't eat soon.
"I made dinner," I said awkwardly. "I noticed you've been living on takeout for a while."
He turned around, his face a mask. Slowly, he opened his eyes and took in the food on the spotless counter, the vacuumed carpet, and the neat pile of mail I'd stacked on the coffee table. "You cleaned."
I shrugged. "A little."
Luca didn't say anything, but I could see a muscle working in his jaw. He looked away, then walked over to the fridge. Opened the door and pulled out a beer, popping the cap off against the counter.
He chugged it, throat working, his back to me. What had happened with Julian? I took a step towards him, wanting to say something, anything, to break tension that I didn’t understand. But I couldn't think of what to say.
Luca finished his beer, tossed it into the trash can, and grabbed another. I watched him in silence.
"Tell me about Tipsy's Sports Bar."
I blanched. "How did you--"
He turned around. "Bethany Nowak, your 'friend from work,' was a server at Tipsy's Sports Bar in Charlestown. She was dating the sleezebag of a manager who also happened to owe us 200K. You wanna tell me how you know her?"
"I thought you didn't want to talk about it," I snapped. "Besides, you already know everything."
"I want to hear it from you."
"Fine." I crossed my arms. "Yes, I'm a server at Tipsy's along with Beth. Or, at least I was, until I got fired Wednesday night. The job at City Council was a lie."
Luca paled. "Why?"
I looked at the floor. "I'm still living on the money Julian gave me for graduation last year," I said quietly. "It's almost gone, and I needed a second job to pay the bills."
Luca frowned. "What do you mean a second job?"
"I cashier at Shaws during the day, and waitress at Tipsy's at night. I've been trying to find a job within my degree path, but no one will hire me. Not in this economy." I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks, but I wasn't sure if it was from anger or humiliation. "I can't lose my apartment, Luca. I worked so hard for it, and Julian was so proud of me for graduating and getting a place on my own, and—”
“But Tipsy’s? That fucking dive? Jesus Christ, Sofia, I looked into that place after Dante told me, and it’s a goddamn miracle you weren’t…weren’t…” he shook his head, stammering. “I can’t even say the word. Let alone that your friend was murdered outside your apartment because she was wrapped up in mafia business. It was a stupid fucking decision.”
I spun away from him and stomped off into the living room. How dare he pass judgement? Like he’d been doing any better with his hobbit impression the past year. “I just wanted to feel normal—”
“You don’t get to be normal, you’re a Moretti!” Luca got in my face, seething. “Like it or not, you’re connected, and you always will be. Do you have any idea how dangerous that was for someone like you? A beautiful, connected female, all alone in a place like that? God, if anything had happened to you, I…”
Luca abruptly cut himself off and paced away, but I still heard what he’d said. Beautiful? Luca thought I was beautiful?
Maybe what I was seeing wasn’t anger.
Maybe it was fear.
“It wasn’t exactly part of the plan, okay? I never would have considered that, except the money started getting tight and I just…I just…”
My voice cracked, and I looked away. Luca stood there in silence, and I tried to swallow back the tears.
"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked softly.
"You would've told Julian, and he would have made me quit. But I can't. I just can't . I just wanted one thing that was my own, one thing that I’d done for myself. By myself. If I lose this, then I'll be right back where I started, and I can't go back to that life. I won't."
"Sofia."
I couldn't stop the tears anymore. They fell hot and fast down my cheeks, but before I could wipe them away, Luca was there, gently taking my face in his hands and smoothing the tears away.
"I wouldn't have told him," he said softly.
"No?"
He shook his head, still cradling my face in his hands. “I just wanted you to be safe. I can’t protect you from what I don’t know, and it kills me to think of you hurt…or scared…”
A pair of mismatched eyes met mine. One dark and warm as coffee, the other clouded over, unfocused. This close, I could see the hills and valleys of scar tissue reaching across his left cheek and temple like tributaries on a map. I wanted to smooth my thumb over them, kiss them, take away every bit of pain he'd been through, but I knew he wouldn't let me.
He closed his eyes, and I felt his thumb trace the line of my cheekbone. His skin was rough against mine, and I leaned into his touch. So much pain held in a face still devastatingly handsome, maybe even more so now because of its imperfections. Badges of his survival and struggle.
I didn't realize how close we'd gotten until his breath ghosted against my lips. I closed my eyes, feeling my heartbeat spike as I leaned in a little further...
Luca dropped his hands and took a staggering step back, the spell broken. I blinked, wait—what? Had Luca just tried to kiss me?
I tried not to let my disappointment show as he cleared his throat and made a show of straightening up the pillows on the couch.
"I guess you understand about wanting to live on your own terms more than I thought you did," he said. "I'm sorry. For doubting you earlier."
"I know what it's like to exist on someone else’s charity. It's not fun."
"It sucks."
I nodded. "So I guess we both need our independence. I just don't want Julian to think I'm ungrateful for what he's done for me. Or be disappointed that my degree didn't work out. He’s a fixer, and overprotective. I don’t want him micromanaging my life."
"It hasn’t worked out so far, but that doesn't mean you stop trying," Luca said. He took me by the hand and led me back to the kitchen. “Come on, let’s dig into this insane amount of food that you made before it gets cold. Can’t have all your hard work go to waste.”
I let out a watery laugh, still feeling unsteady from the near kiss. “Okay.”
I plated two servings of pasta and slid him one with a pointed look. Luca gave me a rare smile, half hidden by a curtain of hair, but he grabbed the fork and took a bite.
"Mmm." His eyes rolled back into his head. "This is good. I can't remember the last time I ate something that didn't come in a Styrofoam container."
I laughed. "It's nothing. Just something I used to make for my family."
"It's good. Reminds me of your mom's Sunday dinners. What are you going to do now? About the job, I mean. You can’t go back to work at Tipsy’s. I don’t want to go all caveman on you, but I’m not sure if I could live with that."
I smiled and took a bite.
"I'm not sure what I'm going to do now," I admitted. "Keep looking for a job in my field, I guess, and hope I can pick up some extra shifts at Shaws in the meantime. I really didn't want to even go in today, but I couldn't afford not to."
Luca dropped his fork with a clatter, sending a spattering of spaghetti sauce across the counter. "You went out today? You left the apartment? I told you to stay put."
I nodded, confused. "Yeah, I went to work. So what?"
He was staring at me now. "Do you have any idea how dangerous that was? Your friend was murdered feet from your apartment, clearly on her way to see you after she confided about her boyfriend owing the mafia money, and you just walk around like nothing happened? What the fuck were you thinking?"
I stared at Luca, eyes wide. He'd never spoken to me like that before. "I-I didn't think it was a big deal. I need the money—"
"I'll give you the money. No—better yet, you’re going to move in with me. Permanently."
My jaw dropped. "What?"
For a moment, Luca almost seemed as shocked as I was about the offer. He blinked hard, visibly steeling himself, and drew up straighter.
"You can stay here with me," he said quietly but firmly. "Everything is paid for, and you can use the break to look for the job you really want. Julian doesn’t have to know."
I shook my head, still shocked. "But just yesterday, you got pissed at me for even suggesting you move in with me? And now you want me to live here with you?"
"It's not permanent, Sofia," he said through gritted teeth. "Just until this thing with Beth blows over. It's safer this way, and we can keep an eye on each other. You can start your job hunt again. The apartment is paid for, and I barely use it anyway. I can sleep on the couch."
I hesitated, and Luca took a step closer, his voice softening.
"I'm asking you to do this, Sofia. Please. It's not safe for you to stay there, not right now. Not after what happened with Beth."
I swallowed hard and looked at the floor. I wanted to protest, to tell him it was crazy to even consider moving in together. But the rational part of me knew he was right. If I went back home, I'd be alone. Defenseless. And what if Beth's killer came back, or worse, connected me to her...
And he was right about the money, too. If I didn't need the money from Tipsy's to keep my apartment, I could focus on my job search and maybe find a better job within my field. It was a huge compromise on his part, giving up his freedom and letting me in. Just yesterday, he wouldn't even let me up the stairs, and now he was offering me his home. His sanctuary. An intimate look into what his life has become.
Maybe I could help Luca, too.
It was obvious he was struggling, but he was too proud to admit it or ask for help. I could be that for him.
I smiled softly. "Okay. I'll stay with you. If you're okay with it."
The tension in his shoulders released, and his face softened a fraction. "Good."
"But I'm going to do the cleaning and the cooking," I added.
"Absolutely not."
"No, not like a whole domesticated pseudo-housewife thing...I-I mean," I stammered. Housewife? What was I thinking? The guy just offered to let me stay over for a few days for my protection, and now I was calling myself his wife? What was wrong with me? "I mean, no more takeout. It's the least I can do."
Luca was scowling as he gathered our plates and brought them into the kitchen. "Yeah. Fine. Whatever." He cleared his throat. "I'll just go get the bedroom ready for you."
Oh, boy, I didn't think about that. Luca and I sleeping under the same roof, getting ready for bed together...I didn't think about how close we'd be, the possibilities of what could happen between us.
I had to remind myself that Luca didn't see me like that. I was just a kid, a little sister to him, someone he was protecting. That's all.
"It's okay," I blurted, "I don't mind sleeping on the couch."
Luca turned around, a plate in one hand and a fork in the other, his brow furrowed. "I can handle sleeping on the couch, Sofia. I don't need you to babysit me."
"I didn't say you did," I said softly. "I just think it makes sense. I can take the couch, and you can take the bed, and that way, you're closer to the bathroom if you need it."
He set the plate down and turned his back on me, but not before I saw the shame cross his face. I knew it bothered him, the fact that he needed help to do things he took for granted before. I could see the frustration on his face and the way he would stop and breathe heavily when he had to do something difficult. He'd never say it out loud, but I knew.
"Fine," he said quietly. "But we'll both do the cleaning. I won't have you cleaning up my messes anymore."
I smiled. "Deal."