Chapter 16
Luca woke in the gray dawn of morning, felt the cold side of the bed next to him, and hated everything.
This was how it had always been. Before he’d come to Indigo Bay, he’d never shared a bed. Never shared his real self with any of the guys he’d dated. Certainly never shared his heart.
But he had, with Oliver.
And now this was how it was going to be, starting with today.
Waking up every morning alone.
Going to bed alone.
Being alone.
It wasn’t just the loneliness that unexpectedly swamped him. It was the fact he was going to be alone because Oliver wasn’t there, next to him.
“What are you doing?” he asked the ceiling, even though he believed he’d already known.
He was going to go home to California, because his family loved him and needed him.
But what kind of Moretti would he be, what kind of son and brother and nephew, if he just ignored the organ beating so hard in his chest, not wanting, for the first time in his thirty-five years, to be ignored?
A Moretti who wouldn’t be a Moretti.
His Nonna, she would be disappointed, if she could see him now. He knew it, as well as he knew how to breathe.
It was obvious then—though it had been rather obvious for about a week now—that he could never say goodbye to Oliver.
Not the permanent kind of goodbye.
He had no idea how this could possibly work. He had obligations and the businesses in Napa, and not only was Oliver’s home base here, he was so intricately woven into this community—but Luca also knew he was better with Oliver. The best part of himself.
He couldn’t lose that.
He couldn’t lose Oliver.
But he was gone.
Luca checked, sliding out of bed, and going to the bathroom, finding it cold and dark.
He’d left.
He’d told him, I want you to kiss me goodbye, and for Oliver, that had been what last night had been, then. A goodbye.
But Luca wasn’t going to goddamn accept that. He was Luca fucking Moretti and he loved Oliver, and he knew Oliver loved him, and he wasn’t going to say goodbye, not that way, not any way at all.
He threw on a sweatshirt and jeans and shoved his feet into his sneakers and headed downstairs.
The walk to the bakery was cold in the pre-dawn, but he didn’t mind.
He banged on the back door for ages before someone opened it.
But it wasn’t Oliver. It was his assistant, the one with the shaggy blond hair and the sorta clueless smile.
“What is it?” he asked, the clueless smile even more pronounced than usual.
“Oliver’s not here?”
Aaron shook his head. “Took the morning off.”
Luca turned abruptly and walked away before Aaron could ask him what he was doing.
Fuck if he knew. He just knew he couldn’t say goodbye.
Not now. Not ever.
But Oliver’s house was cold and dark too, no lights to be seen.
Luca slumped against the closed and locked door and tried to think where he could’ve gone.
Maybe to his mother’s? But she lived at the Inn, and he wouldn’t have stayed there. Not while Luca was still under its roof.
There was only one place he could think of.
It seemed like a shot in the dark, but wasn’t that all love was? Life? A shot in the fucking dark.
He barely remembered the path Oliver had taken him on because he hadn’t been thinking about where they were going, only who he was going with.
It was more than a little embarrassing how long he’d been head over heels for Oliver and had spent all that time pretending his feelings didn’t exist.
Finally, after fifteen minutes of crossing back and forth on the quiet streets by the wharf, he found the entrance to the path that led up to the cliffside park Oliver had brought him to.
The same hill Eliza had climbed every single day, her constancy a proof of her love.
Oliver had never told him he was a romantic, but he hadn’t had to.
It was in every word of the story he’d told about Eliza and Nathaniel.
It was in the way he’d refused to go on a second date with Enzo—and then refused to be resentful at how angry Enzo had been with him afterward.
The truth was in his eyes every single goddamn time he’d looked at Luca.
As he climbed, Luca’s mind emptied out. If Oliver wasn’t there . . .
He’s going to be here. He has to be there.
And if he wasn’t, Luca wasn’t giving up. He’d go to every single fucking house in Indigo Bay if he had to. He’d search everywhere, because if anyone was worth that Herculean effort, it was Oliver.
Finally, he reached the top, and as he lifted his eyes to the horizon, there, just as he’d expected—as he’d hoped—there was the man he loved, sitting on the bench they’d shared last week, staring out at the ocean.
“Oliver.”
There was shock in Oliver’s eyes as Luca crossed the clearing toward him.
“What are you doing here?” Oliver said, wiping his cheeks.
God, he’s crying. You’re the biggest asshole in the world. You were gonna leave him, and even if it made both of you miserable, you were still gonna do it.
Maybe he was an asshole. Maybe he was cocky and arrogant and way too certain of how things should be.
But he also loved Oliver with every fiber of his being.
Surely that should count for something?
“First, I’m an asshole.”
Oliver laughed wetly. “What?”
That was not quite what he’d intended to say.
Luca re-grouped. He could do this. He was a Moretti.
He was Italian. Gabriel had won over his boyfriend.
His father and his mother were still disgustingly in love.
Marco still believed in love, even when it continued to fuck him over.
Surely, all of this meant that inside him, inside the blood that ran through his veins, was proof he could do this.
“I mean, yes, I am an asshole sometimes,” Luca said.
“And maybe that’s too much, maybe I . . .
maybe I should pay for the fact that I was still going to leave you, even though I didn’t want to.
Even though I really don’t want to. But I can’t do it.
I can’t say goodbye, not to you. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever.”
Oliver reached up, cupped his cheek. His hand was cold—how long had he been up here, recreating Eliza’s devotion?
“It’s funny,” he said.
“It’s really not,” Luca said. “I love you. And I hoped —”
“No, no.” Oliver shook his head and he was smiling now, the brightness of it taking over and transforming his entire face.
He was beautiful like this, in the light of the sunrise, eyes still damp but filled with an undeniable happiness now.
“No, it’s funny because I was up here and I’d just decided that I couldn’t say goodbye to you either. ”
“Really?”
He’d never have asked Oliver to leave Indigo Bay. How could he?
“I love you, too, you ridiculous man,” Oliver said and pressed his cool lips to Luca’s.
For a long moment, Luca fell into the kiss. Let everything but the fact that they definitely loved each other, that he hadn’t fucked things up beyond repair, that he didn’t have to say goodbye after all, sweep him away.
But then he broke off.
“You can’t leave here.”
Oliver raised an eyebrow. “And you can leave Napa?”
“We’re gonna figure this out,” Luca said. “I don’t know what it looks like. I don’t know how it works. But we’re gonna do it together.”
Oliver leaned against Luca’s chest, their embrace the most natural thing Luca had ever felt in his whole goddamn life. Why had he fought so hard against this?
Oh, that’s right.
“Come home with me, just for a little bit,” Luca said, before he could be logical and keep the words to himself.
“What?” Oliver glanced up at him in surprise.
“Come home with me. Just for a few days. I want . . .I want you to meet my family. I need to talk to them about the changes I’m going to be making.
And then I’ll come back here with you. I can’t promise I’ll never leave again, but I’m .
. .I’m going to do this. Surely Marjorie and what’s-his-name can hold down the bakery for a few days. ”
“I . . .” Oliver wet his lips. “I want to. But I think . . .I think maybe you should deal with your family on your own?”
Luca shook his head. “If I’m going to move across the country, they’re going to want to meet you.”
“So they can hate me forever?” Oliver asked wryly.
“No,” Luca said, chuckling, “so they can meet the man who’s stolen my heart, completely and utterly. They’re going to love you, every bit of you. I promise.”
The last thing Oliver had expected when Luca was on his way to Charleston to fly back to California was to be next to him.
But he was.
It had been a frantic few hours. He’d called up Marjorie and also Aaron’s friend, the one he’d been tentatively talking about hiring.
He’d gathered them for a quick pow-wow at the bakery, and they’d all promised him unequivocally that they could manage things while he was gone.
The good news was he was normally incredibly organized, and so it wasn’t too hard to make sure Marjorie would have everything she’d need to handle the bakery.
Then he’d run home, packed by throwing random shit he still couldn’t quite remember into a suitcase, taken the quickest shower in the world, and had been ready when Luca had driven up in his rental car, ready to go to the airport.
He’d taken five minutes out of his frantic rush to call his mother, who’d only said in a very satisfied voice, “Good. Now don’t you dare let him go, Oliver.”
“I won’t,” Oliver had promised.
And looking at Luca, sitting in the driver’s seat of his rental car, Oliver felt the echo of that sentiment still. I’m not letting him go.
“I managed to get you a ticket next to me, thank God,” Luca said.
Oliver didn’t want to ask what that had cost. Maybe it was better not to know.
Then Luca flashed him the brightest, happiest smile he’d ever seen on his face, and suddenly the price of the very last-minute plane ticket didn’t matter.
Of course, that was until they got to the Charleston airport, and Oliver realized the ticket wasn’t just for the regular cabin, but a first-class ticket.