Chapter 36 Matilda #2
Luca’s mother sat in a plush armchair upholstered in a rich fabric. She looked exactly how I’d imagined: beautiful, ageless, and kind. Her dark, slightly graying hair brushed her shoulders, and a warm smile stretched across her tanned face when she spotted her son.
“Oh Luca, how was she—” His mum paused, spotting me as I stepped out from behind him. Her face bloomed into a wider smile, and she opened her arms. “Oh my, Matilda!”
Luca leaned down and kissed her cheek softly.
I followed, and she sat forward and pulled me into a hug.
It was warm and grounding, like she knew exactly how much I needed it.
I breathed in the faint scent of her—lavender and fresh cotton.
She squeezed me tight for a moment and my heart swelled with gratitude.
“Sorry for intruding.” I stood back, fiddling with the ends of my hair. “I didn’t realize Luca was visiting you; otherwise, I wouldn’t have called him.”
“Don’t be silly, sweetheart. He visits me too much as it is; I’ve been telling him he needs to get out more.” Her quiet voice danced with loving humor as her gaze flickered to him. “I’m Rosie, by the way.”
“Don’t embarrass me, Mom. Matilda thinks I have a busy schedule attending important meetings and visiting countless friends.”
Our light laughter echoed around the room, and I continued. “Well, thank you for loaning him out to me for the past few months.” I decided to offer her the truth, as Luca encouraged me to do. “Even if he was a pain in my arse at the start.”
A smile played at the corner of his lips. Rosie’s gaze shifted between us, her face softening with laughter.
“Why doesn’t that surprise me one bit? Please, tell me more.” We sat in the armchairs opposite hers, sinking into the deep, comfortable cushions.
I ignored my vibrating phone as we launched into stories from the show.
We avoided the subject of what was going on now between us, but it was obvious that he’d told her what had happened to some extent.
She peppered us with questions on how training was going and how we felt about making it this far in the competition.
Watching Luca interact with his mum was heartwarming; I’d never seen him so relaxed. However, I realized that over the past two months, since the press event, I’d started to see more of the man who sat in front of me—hints of who he was when he trusted the person he was with.
I eventually got fed up with my phone buzzing nonstop, so I pulled it out to turn it off, already knowing who was blowing it up. I had a few missed texts from my mother, a few missed calls from my sister, but unsurprisingly nothing from my dad.
“Everything OK?” Luca asked when I powered off my phone.
“Yeah, all good.” I smiled.
“I’m going to grab Mum a tea quickly, then. I’ll be right back.” He gently squeezed my shoulder as he exited the room.
“Is everything OK, lovely?” Rosie asked.
“Just stuff with family,” I answered but changed the subject, not wanting to bore her with my drama. “You and Luca seem so close.”
Their bond was almost palpable—from their shared glances and easy smiles to how she’d instinctively brushed the stray lock of hair from his forehead when they were talking. I couldn’t remember when my mother had done anything like that for me.
“We are. He might not show it to anyone anymore, but he’ll do anything for the people he loves.”
I had witnessed his love for his mother firsthand. The entire reason Luca was doing the show was to make his mum happy, and although that would be considered a grand gesture, Luca was an expert at the small things, too, even if he denied it.
He didn’t love me, but he never failed to ensure I was cared for.
He delivered me my favorite coffee, knew my favorite foods, sent me a song that he thought I might like, drove us to the beach, collected my costume from Wardrobe every week so I didn’t have to make the trek across the studio, carried my skates for me… The list went on.
“I can tell,” I agreed before adding, “He’s been good to me this season.”
His mother raised a knowing eyebrow.
“Well, most of the season.” I laughed. “He’s really pushed me to start doing things I normally wouldn’t. It’s…nice.”
“I hope you don’t mind, but Luca told me your mother pushed you into the show. Don’t you enjoy it?” She readjusted the blanket laid across her lap.
I paused, glancing around the room momentarily, working out how to respond as I gathered my thoughts. I settled on honesty.
“I hate it.”
Her eyes widened for a moment. Then she nodded in encouragement for me to continue.
So I did. I filled her in on all the drama surrounding the Olympics, not sparing her a single detail: how my mother had forced me to follow in her footsteps toward the Olympics, the training, the diets, the countless rounds of trials.
I told her how she’d shouted at me for days after I’d failed the trials and then ignored me for another week.
Every pent-up emotion, thought, and worry spilled out in a rush. It felt cathartic, telling someone who I knew understood what it was like not to be able to say no.
“And don’t get me wrong, I love skating.
But the show is just too much,” I explained, crossing my legs and fiddling with my ponytail.
“I find it too stressful—the hours, meeting new people every season, the choreography, and being on live TV. I’m just too scared to let my family and the channel down. ”
She nodded knowingly. “Has Luca told you about my marriage to his father?”
I nodded and her face softened with understanding.
“Well, I was the same. I couldn’t tell him no, and I did everything he asked because I thought it would make him happy.
I got this temporary buzz from making someone else feel good.
But after a while, I started to feel angry and unfulfilled, because I wasn’t doing what I wanted to do, only what others wanted of me.
I didn’t know how to stop and by that point, it was part of who I was. ”
I nodded again, even as tightness grew in my throat. My eyes prickled. “I can’t stand the thought of disappointing people, though. What if I hurt them? At least if I’m only hurting myself, I can manage and control how I feel.”
“But can you, love? Can you manage the feeling of always treating your needs as less important than others’?
It’s exhausting.” She held my hand in hers, the kind gesture so similar to how she treated her son that it caused the weight in my chest to grow heavier.
She held my gaze and said, “You’re not a bad person for prioritizing your needs, Matilda.
Everyone is responsible for their emotions, and disappointment is part of life. ”
“It feels so hard to remember that, though.”
“I wish I’d worked harder on it when I was younger.
” She gave me a sad smile. “It shouldn’t take a terminal diagnosis to start living your life how you want.
Life is too short to waste it on pleasing everyone else around you.
I might have been given a specific timeline, but we’re all on a timeline, really.
Don’t wait until the last minute to live your life exactly as you want to. ”
“But what if I upset someone?”
“There’s that famous saying: ‘I don’t regret the things I did do, I regret the things I didn’t.’ You know it?”
I nodded, and she squeezed my hand.
“It’s not always true for people like us.
I don’t regret the times I said no; I regret the times I said yes, because it ultimately cost me my happiness.
I missed so much and lost so many of my dreams, my peace—all because of what?
Because I didn’t want to disappoint anyone, and I wanted people to like me? ”
I didn’t know what to say. I knew she was right. Standing up to my family earlier had felt good, even though it had upset them.
“Take Luca, for example. Do you think you’ve upset him or said something he disagreed with?”
A small smile tugged at the corner of my lips. “Definitely.”
She mirrored my expression. “Since the press event.”
“Probably? I don’t know. But even if I have, he doesn’t ever seem annoyed.”
“Exactly. But even if he was upset about something, or annoyed or disappointed, that’s just part of life. You can’t control how other people feel, no matter how hard you try. Look at you and your mother.”
She wasn’t wrong. So why did I keep trying? Why did I constantly put her wishes above mine?
“I feel good with Luca, as if I can be myself.” It felt strange, almost wrong, to discuss her son with her in such a candid way.
“I know.” She held my gaze, smiling. “You just have to bear with him. Luca can be—”
“Insanely handsome and hilarious?” Luca said from the door.
Rosie and I laughed, filling the room and sweeping away any leftover sadness from our conversation. The weight that had rested heavily on my chest since being at my mother’s house now completely lifted, leaving a lightness I hadn’t felt in a long time.
“We’d better get moving soon.” Luca placed the tea on the side, leaned against the doorframe, and crossed his arms. His forearms were looking particularly appealing as they flexed.
“You’ll both have to come over again soon,” Rosie said on a yawn. “Hopefully, I’ll be able to come and watch a performance, too, but we’ll have to see.”
Luca moved across the room and kissed his mum on the cheek. I followed suit, leaning over to hug her.
“Please remember what I said, Matilda. If you ever need anything, even just moral support, give me a call.” She held my hands and squeezed.
The maternal tenderness and compassion Rosie offered to me was a rare gift I would hold close to my heart.
“Stop hitting on her, Mom. I’ll get jealous.” We both rolled our eyes at Luca’s joke, then shared one more hug, holding on a moment longer.
After we’d said our final goodbyes and stepped out of the room, everything felt just a little bit brighter.