Chapter 13
There were many better things Oliver could be doing on his day off.
He could be working on last-minute plans for the festival. They were there, just sitting in his inbox taunting him.
Just like his overflowing laundry hamper.
Just like the pans stacked up in the sink from the last few breakfasts he’d shared with Luca.
But he left them all behind and walked over to the Inn, opening the door and letting the comforting scent of lavender and fresh-baked blueberry scones hit him.
“Oliver,” his mom called over, barely raising her head from the laptop she had set up on the front desk. “Is that you?”
“It’s me,” he said. Regretting, immediately, that he hadn’t gone in the back way and snuck up to Luca’s room.
He should’ve known his mom would be down here.
Ready to pounce.
Ready to demand answers.
But in a very Joy-like way, which meant she’d weasel them out of him without him even realizing he’d given up the goods.
He loved her, he totally did, but she was also a huge pain in his ass. Especially about this.
There were a lot of benefits of having a romance author for a mother; this was not one of them.
“Come over here for a sec,” she said. “I’m assuming you’re not here to see me.”
“No,” Oliver admitted, his feet reluctantly carrying him over to where she was sitting. “How’s the book coming?”
“Terrible, but don’t try to distract me,” she said. She glanced up at him. “You’re meeting Luca, aren’t you?”
Oliver tried to remember when he’d told Luca that living in a small town and everyone giving a shit about what you did was a good thing. Cause it didn’t feel particularly good now.
He had a feeling he was in for a big lecture.
He even had a feeling he knew what she’d say.
“Yes,” he said, because he wasn’t going to lie to her about it either.
Joy’s lips pursed. “You’re spending a lot of time together, aren’t you?”
“Well . . .he’s not here for very long,” Oliver reminded her.
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he realized they were the wrong ones.
“Exactly,” she said. “He’s not sticking around, Oliver.”
“You don’t think I know that?” He sighed. “I know, Mom.”
“Do you?”
“I know him pretty well by this point. I know he’s not.”
Of course knowing it and coming to terms with it were two entirely different things.
“Still.” She looked concerned, which was even worse. “I write these things for a living, Oliver, and in my head, and on the page, they end differently than they do in real life.”
“If you tell me in real life people leave, I’m going to leave,” Oliver said bluntly.
“I’m not,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m just worried. I thought you’d . . .”
“I’d what?”
Her voice lowered. “Spend less time with him. Keep a distance. The nights . . .those are one thing. But I heard him tell another guest you’re taking him to the lookout today. The lookout, Oliver.”
“And what?” But he knew what she was trying to say.
“It’s not a place you take a guy you’ve slept with a few times. It’s a place you take a guy—”
He wasn’t going to let her finish that thought.
It was bad enough it was already echoing in his own head. He didn’t need to hear it out loud too.
“It’s a place you take a guy who’s visiting and wants to see the sights? Yeah, I know it is,” he finished instead.
Joy sighed. “I knew you wouldn’t take this well.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t have brought it up,” Oliver suggested.
“I couldn’t stand by and watch . . .” She trailed off. “Don’t fall in love with him, Oliver.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t,” Oliver lied. “Besides, aren’t you always telling me people don’t fall in love in a few weeks?
However, despite all this great advice, I gotta go.
” He’d just spotted Luca coming down the stairs, and the last thing he wanted was for him to overhear this particular conversation.
They were already skirting around the inevitable, not talking about it because there was absolutely zero point in subjecting themselves to a conversation that could only end one way—they both knew that.
It would be so much worse if Luca overheard his mom lecturing Oliver about a future that wasn’t going to happen.
“Hey,” Luca said as he approached, smiling in that soft way Oliver hadn’t seen on him with anyone else.
Joy shot him a knowing look, and there went the idea that she hadn’t noticed it, too.
He loved his mother, but she noticed everything. It was the worst.
“Hey,” Oliver said. “Ready to go?”
Luca lifted the backpack he was carrying. “Picnic all packed.”
“Great.”
“Mrs. Billings,” Luca said to his mother, nodding in acknowledgment. “Nice to see you. Breakfast this morning was delicious, as always.”
Joy sighed and if it was even possible, her next glance in Oliver’s direction was even more obvious.
Yeah, he definitely did not need her to tell him they were both getting in deep, and that no matter how deep they went, it could only end one way: with Luca getting on a plane and heading back to California.
It didn’t matter if fate was being an asshole about it; fate was still fate.
“You’re welcome,” she said dryly. “You two be careful. It can be a tough climb.”
Oliver said goodbye and practically dragged Luca outside.
Luca was quiet, settling the backpack on his broad shoulders, as they walked toward the edge of town, toward the ocean.
Finally, after five long minutes, he spoke up. “What was that about?”
“Uh, it was nothing,” Oliver said. He was a terrible liar—but what was he supposed to do, tell Luca the truth?
It was too humiliating to even consider.
“She was warning you about me, wasn’t she?” Luca’s voice was heavy.
Oliver stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, the fresh salt tang of the ocean beginning to hit his nose.
This wasn’t what he’d wanted at all.
He’d told Luca he had big plans, and he hadn’t been exaggerating.
They didn’t have much time left, and he wanted everything, and to get that, they needed to make the most of every moment.
He knew that, and he’d planned for it.
“Do we have to do this?” Oliver asked, as Luca turned to face him. His dark eyes were so serious. Earnest, almost.
Oliver didn’t think he’d ever seen this look on his face before. It scared him. It exhilarated him.
“We don’t have to talk about it,” Luca said slowly, “but I don’t want to leave the elephant in the room unacknowledged. That’s not fair to either of us.”
“It’s not?”
Luca reached for him, cupped his cheek with one of his big calloused hands. Oliver’s eyes fluttered closed and he tried to imprint the memory of Luca’s soft, but firm touch in his head forever. So he could pull it out later and remember just how it felt.
“Oliver, you know I can’t stay.”
“I know.” God, did he know.
“But I don’t want to just keep doing this like it’s nothing, either,” he continued. “I don’t want to keep doing it without telling you that I wish things could be different.”
“Seriously?” Oliver couldn’t do anything but laugh. A little bitterly. “Is that supposed to help? Because it doesn’t.”
“No, but it’s the truth and I promised myself I’d tell you the truth. So that’s the truth. I wish I could stay. But I can’t.”
“I just wanted . . .” Oliver tried to ignore the surge of happiness, followed by the equally strong surge of disappointment currently rocking him. “I just wanted to enjoy the time we had together. That’s all. That’s what I want. To live in the moment.”
“We can do that. I just . . .” Luca took a deep breath. “I didn’t want you to think I didn’t care. I do care.” Too much. He didn’t say the words, but they echoed between them anyway, and Oliver could hear them as loudly as if he’d screamed them.
“I understand.” He did, even if it was killing him.
“I thought you might, but . . .” Luca’s voice was wry. “I wanted to be sure, as well.”
Luca would want to be sure, even if it killed both of them to say it out loud.
“Do we have to think about it anymore?”
Luca smiled, his hand sliding back, behind Oliver’s neck, tugging him closer. “No,” he murmured as he kissed him briefly. “No, we don’t.”
Oliver leaned into the kiss. Feeling it down to his toes. Then he pulled back.
“Okay.”
“So how hard is this climb, really?” Luca asked when they started moving toward the ocean again.
Oliver eyed him. “Definitely not that hard, not for you. We’ll probably work up a decent sweat though.”
“And Eliza climbed this? Every day?”
“Every day.”
Oliver had never really considered how his ancestor must have felt, what must have driven her to do it, every single day, to push her muscles past the aching point, but he thought he might have an inkling now.
“She was something else, wasn’t she?”
“I wish I could’ve met her,” Oliver said.
“Oh, I think you’ve got plenty of her in you,” Luca said, his tone amused. “And your mother, too.”
He couldn’t help but smile at that. “It’s not that she doesn’t like you,” he said.
“I don’t think I’ve ever honestly worried about a parent liking me.” Luca paused, like he was considering this. “Though, now that I think about it, I don’t think I’ve ever met a parent, before.”
Oliver supposed he shouldn’t be surprised, but he was. “You really didn’t date before this?” How could someone like Luca not be inundated with offers? And surely he said yes to some of them. Oliver thought of his confident and sure touch and knew he definitely wasn’t living the life of a monk.
“Oh, I dated,” Luca said wryly. “Handful of dates here or there. Lots of guys just like me. Driven. Ambitious. Arrogant. Focused on what they believed was really important.”
“I can’t imagine why none of those worked out.” Oliver couldn’t quite keep the sarcasm from his tone.
“It’s not like your business isn’t important to you, but it’s not the only important thing. You care about this town. About Marjorie. About Aaron. About your mother. I bet a couple dozen people in this town could need you and you’d come running.”
Oliver wasn’t sure about that.
“Maybe,” he allowed, “but they’d only do it to get the first scoop.”
“Or maybe not,” Luca said.