Chapter 15
The morning of Indigo Bay’s Sweethearts Festival dawned bright and sunny, a perfect day to celebrate love.
Was Luca in the mood to celebrate love? Not really. He’d finally, after too long putting it off, booked his flight, mostly because his father had actually texted him back finally, asking when he was coming home.
The guilt, which he’d already felt staying this long when Giana was set on the right course, had overwhelmed him, and he’d set up his return flight without thinking about it too closely.
He’d leave tomorrow, and so today was his last day in Indigo Bay.
Oliver hadn’t really said anything when he’d told him, just nodded, and Luca had believed—had wanted to believe—that he understood.
Still, it wasn’t easy.
Nonna, nothing’s easy. How do I choose when every choice is the hard way through?
But she didn’t answer, and neither did the covered hotel pans full of sauce and meatballs and rolls set up in front of him.
Luca sighed.
He’d seen Oliver a few times in passing, as he and Giana had gotten their booth set up, but every single time, he’d looked busy and at points even frantic as he had directed traffic and vendors to where they were supposed to be.
“You want to talk about it?” Giana asked as he followed Oliver, crossing the square again, with just his eyes.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Luca said.
That wasn’t exactly true, but he didn’t want to talk about it.
Thinking about it was hard enough.
“I know Enzo was really into him for a while, but I’ve never seen him date someone in town,” Giana said. “He doesn’t do that. I have a feeling you don’t either. If both of you are willing to date, and each other . . .doesn’t that mean something?”
Luca shot his aunt a look. “Okay, there might be something to talk about, but I’m not interested in talking about it.”
“You should. Before you leave and regret it.”
“No matter what happens, I’m going to regret it,” Luca said wryly.
“You know my mother wouldn’t have wanted you to do this to yourself,” Giana said.
“Bringing out the big guns now, huh?” Luca said.
But he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. Still, Giana rarely talked about Nonna, even though she’d been her mother.
“Family is a lot,” she continued, like he hadn’t even said anything, “but it’s not everything, Luca. Deep down, I think you know that.”
“Except I’m the one who promised her I’d take care of the family.”
“And you think the family didn’t promise to take care of you?” Giana asked archly.
Luca opened his mouth and then clamped it shut again. Had she really? He’d question it more, but that sounded like a very Nonna thing to do.
“I just think you should take your own advice, that’s all,” she finished. “Think about it.”
Like he’d been doing anything else.
He’d been doing so much thinking, he was sick to fucking death of his own brain.
Luca glanced down at his watch. It was eleven now, and more and more people were now filtering into Indigo Bay’s central square. They’d be getting hungry soon, and hopefully they’d be busy enough he wouldn’t have time to think at all.
An hour and a half later, Luca leaned back and stretched, the red apron he’d borrowed from Enzo pulling tight against his chest.
“Well, that’s about it,” Giana said, grinning over at him. “I can’t believe we sold out.”
“I can,” Luca said.
She rolled her eyes. “I guess I should thank you again.”
“No thanks necessary. We do this for one another because we’re family. Because we’re Morettis.”
He didn’t want to feel the weight of that right now, but the fact was, it was truth.
He had certain obligations.
Just the same as Oliver had his own here, and nothing had made that more apparent than today and how in demand he’d been, arranging things and running around with barely a moment to check in with Luca. When he had, Luca had sat him down behind their table and made him eat something.
He was one of this town’s favorite sons. Owned one of the town’s most beloved businesses.
No, if it had ever been a thought in Luca’s mind that maybe he could take Oliver out of Indigo Bay, even if he’d wanted to go, Luca knew now he couldn’t do it.
He was meant to stay here. Applaud on the sideline as his mother stood on the little stage and told the story in the same beautiful, stark detail as Oliver had of Nathaniel and Eliza.
He and Giana had just been about to finish cleaning up when Oliver arrived, out of breath and with a surprising look of panic on his face. No matter how busy he’d been today, there’d been absolutely no alarm to be seen before now.
“What’s wrong?” Luca asked as he stacked empty pans.
“One of the couples dropped out of the dating game,” Oliver said.
“Why?”
“Ironically, they broke up,” Oliver said, a wry edge to his voice. “So yeah, not much help to us, now.”
It seemed the easiest, most natural thing in the world to do, to ask him, “What can I do?”
“You’re not going to like it,” Oliver said.
Luca untied the apron and folded it up. He had a feeling he knew what was coming, and he also knew why Oliver didn’t want to ask him. Also knew why Oliver had come to him. “Let me be the judge of that.”
“I wouldn’t ask . . .not if . . .”
“You need me to do it with you?” Luca interrupted him gently.
Oliver’s hazel eyes widened further. “You would? Even though . . .”
Even though you’re leaving tomorrow.
“Yes,” Luca said. He couldn’t do much for Oliver. But he could do this.
Oliver hadn’t wanted to ask. It was bad enough Luca was leaving tomorrow. Bad enough and not at all a surprise, either, but he hadn’t wanted to grind in the inevitable pain of his departure any more.
And participating together in the Dating Game, in front of the whole town and all the tourists who’d come in for the day, who might believe they were really together, that they were in love, that they might actually believe they had a future together?
That sounded like a little slice of heaven—and hell.
“You sure you’re okay doing this?” Oliver checked in again, as they stood at the side of the stage, waiting to be introduced.
Marjorie was the emcee for the game, and she’d shot him a worried look when he’d arrived with Luca in tow.
It was not a perfect solution, for sure, but Luca would be good at this. Maybe they’d even gotten to know each other well enough they’d have a chance of getting a few questions right.
“I’m fine doing it,” Luca said, flashing him one of his most devastating smiles. “You ashamed of me now, Oliver?”
“Never,” Oliver said and reached out and took his hand, squeezed it. “I—” But he couldn’t quite get the words out. Hadn’t he promised himself he wouldn’t make a fool of himself over their goodbye?
Telling Luca that he wasn’t only not ashamed of him, but he’d never been prouder to introduce someone as his, even if it was only for a little while, was defeating the whole purpose.
“I know,” Luca said and squeezed his hand back.
Not for the first time, Oliver believed he did know.
“Come on, let’s get this shindig started,” Marjorie said and led them onto the stage.
There were three sets of couples: Clare, the town’s realtor, and her wife, Becca. Ned, who managed the grocery store, and his wife of nearly thirty years, Colleen, who’d worked with him every day for practically their entire lives. And Oliver and Luca.
“We don’t have to win,” Oliver murmured under his breath.
Luca raised an eyebrow. “Why are we here if we’re not going to try to win?”
First, Marjorie asked them to introduce their partner, or as she put it, their better half.
Oliver listened to Clare tell everyone how amazing Becca was, how insightful and supportive, and how she created a perfect place for them to be together at home.
Then Colleen talked about how hard Ned worked, how he’d fought against her working with him before he’d realized how strong a partnership they could have together.
He told himself he wasn’t worried about what Luca would say about him—I was just here for a few weeks and Oliver was a good way to pass the time, when I wasn’t convincing my aunt to see sense—but he was, a little.
He shouldn’t have been.
Luca took the microphone from Marjorie with a charming smile that Oliver knew took in the crowd, because it had never once failed to take him in.
“I haven’t known Oliver very long,” he said, “but I do know just how incredible he is. He’s giving and kind and sweet as hell, but he’s not one of those people who’s too sweet.
Just when you think he might kill you with all that sugar, he gets snarky and honest. That’s what I love most about him.
How he never fails to give me the most real part of him, the most honest part. ”
Oliver’s fingers, already trembling, straight up shook when he took the microphone from Luca. That was what Luca thought about him? He saw past the sweet, pleasant exterior he didn’t necessarily put on for the world, but that he knew protected him anyway.
Luca saw him.
The Oliver underneath it all.
“You know,” Oliver said, glancing in Luca’s direction, “I didn’t like you much at first.”
Luca threw his head back, laughing hard. If the audience hadn’t been won over by that moment, they were now.
“Seriously!” Oliver said with a chuckle. “You were kinda arrogant. Way too certain of how gorgeous and smart and perfect you were. Then I got to know you, and you are those things. But you’re more too. You’re loyal and the people you care about? You love them so fiercely.”
Luca’s gaze softened.
Maybe it made his love too obvious, like he was wearing it on his sleeve for everyone to see. But perhaps that was okay.
He hadn’t ever wanted Luca to feel guilty about leaving, because Oliver understood, even though he hated it. But maybe it would be a good thing for Luca to know someone out there cared this much about him.
“You guys are absolutely adorable,” Marjorie cooed.
But she still shot Oliver a quick look before she turned back to Clare and Becca to ask them the first question.