Chapter 8 #2
“Arabella and Dante got their happily ever after,” she screeches, poking me in the chest this time.
“They’re an enigma. That’s not how it normally works.”
She folds her arms across her chest and lifts her chin in defiance. “Maybe not for you. But some of us still believe in good things.”
I laugh, but there’s no humour in it. “Belief doesn’t change reality.”
“And cynicism doesn’t protect you from it. I’m starting to believe that you push people away before they can hurt you or leave,” she says, softer now, but it lands like a slap.
I blink, caught off guard.
“I shimmy to shake away the sadness,” she adds as her voice breaks a little. “You snap at people to keep them from getting close. We’re both messed up, but at least I’m trying to find a little joy in this shitty situation.”
With that, she turns away and storms out of the room, her footsteps echoing down the hallway. I flinch when her bedroom door slams shut with a loud thud that rattles the walls.
The silence that follows is thick and punishing, and I hate how cold the room suddenly feels without her fire in it.
Hours have passed, and Lucia still hasn’t come out of her bedroom. It’s gotten to the point where I’m concerned. She missed lunch, and quite frankly, I miss her.
Sure, I do my best to avoid her most of the time, but the reality is I like having her around and the way she looks after me. It’s not something I’ve had before now.
I pause when I reach the door to her room and use my free hand to knock lightly. “Luc, you awake?”
“Why?”
“Can I come in?”
There is a brief pause before she replies, “It depends.”
I clear my throat. “On what?”
“Are you going to be mean to me again?”
Hurting her is the last thing I ever wanted to do, but the way she said it stops me in my tracks. I’ve been so focused on suppressing my feelings and so caught up in pretending they don’t exist that I never really thought about how my poor behaviour might affect her.
“I made you something to eat.”
I stand there for a moment, waiting for her to reply, but seconds later her door opens instead. Her eyes zero in on the plate in my hand.
“You made me a sandwich?” she asks, a small smile curving her pretty lips.
“It’s the best I could do. Sadly, I don’t have your culinary skills.”
Her gaze flickers up to my face, and unless I’m seeing things, those damn heart eyes are back. The funny thing is that they don’t bother me so much anymore. I’m realising that I’ll take that look over her scowl any day.
I’ve been stewing about our earlier fight since she stormed off and shut herself away. I don’t like it when she avoids me, and I hate knowing I’m the reason she’s hurting. I should’ve just let her shimmy all that shit out instead of acting like an arsehole.
I push the plate in her direction, and when she takes it from me, she lifts the top layer of bread to peer inside. “What’s on it?”
“Cheese and salami.”
“Yum.”
She turns and heads back towards her bed, taking a seat on the side of the mattress.
I stand in the doorway observing her before finally saying, “I was wondering if we could have a chat once you’ve finished eating.”
Her eyes dart back to mine. “Has something happened?”
I let out a long breath. “No. Still no news on that front.”
That fucker Salvatori is still out there. Despite everything we’ve done, we’re nowhere near close to finding him. It’s driving me out of my fucking mind.
It’s been months since one of his guys first showed in town, sniffing around for Lucia. So that fucker has had more than enough time to solidify whatever plan he’s working on. And it’s the not knowing that’s eating me alive.
I’m constantly on edge. The weight of it sits on my chest, pressing down harder every day. The anxiety of when he’ll strike, or if he already has something in motion, is keeping me awake at night.
I shove my hands into my trouser pockets, and those big fucking brown doe eyes of hers make my pulse spike. I have to look away just to stop my damn heart from leaping out of my chest.
The thought of anything happening to her is enough to paralyse me. There is nothing I wouldn’t do to keep this woman safe, and that knowledge is sobering. I don’t want to feel the things that I’m feeling, but I’m slowly losing the battle on all fronts.
“Come sit,” she says, tapping the space beside her. “We can talk while I eat.”
Being in this room with her, and on her bed, is a bad idea, but that doesn’t seem to stop my feet from moving as I cross the room and sit down, leaving as much distance between us as I humanly can.
I’m so physically attracted to this woman that sometimes I lose the ability to think straight around her.
“I feel like we’ve come to a crossroads,” I start, quickly diverting my gaze when she bites into her sandwich.
“How so?”
“I don’t want to fight with you, Lucia,” I admit. “I have so much on my plate right now, and our constant bickering is just distracting me from my job.”
“I don’t want to fight with you either, but it’s kind of hard not to when you’re acting like a stronzo every chance you get.”
“I’m just—”
“Trying to push me away. I get it. I’ve come to realise during our time here in this house that you’re hard to get close to because trust isn’t something you share that often.”
“Hmm,” I hum, side-eyeing her, slightly put off by her words despite how accurate they are.
“I’m a lot like you on the inside.”
“Fucked up?” I ask.
“Uh-huh. I may be all sunshine and rainbows on the outside, but deep inside I’m …” She lets her words trail off, but I can fill in the blanks.
Lucia takes another bite of her sandwich before continuing.
“I understand why you are like you are. Pushing people away stops you from getting hurt. I bet at night, when you close your eyes and allow yourself to be vulnerable for a moment, it’s the only time you let yourself wonder what life would be like if you actually let someone in. ”
Her words land deeper than I expected, and it catches me off guard. I’ve built my life around keeping people out. Hiding behind that ‘don’t fuck with me’ shield because it was safer that way. But somehow, she sees right through it.
It’s disarming and … unsettling. Or maybe it’s just that she actually notices me, really listens, in a way no one else ever has.
And the truth is I don’t know what to do with that because I’ve never had it before, but instead of admitting that there might be some truth to her summary of me, I find myself saying, “I didn’t come in here to be psychoanalysed by you, Lucia.
” I drag my hand down my face as I speak.
“And for the record, you couldn’t be any further from the truth. ”
With that, she scoots closer, closing the distance I put between us and bumps her shoulder with mine. “It’s okay, Romeo. Being vulnerable sometimes doesn’t make you any less of a man. I still think you’re pretty badass.”
“I’m not fucking vulnerable,” I growl. “I’m feeling stressed, tired, and pissed the fuck off, but definitely not vulnerable.”
“I can relate to that, but I’d have to add frustrated to that list.”
That makes two of us.
“That’s partly the reason we need to have this discussion. If we are going to get out of this unscathed, then we have to set some boundaries.”
“Ugh,” she groans, dropping her half-eaten sandwich back onto the plate. “Let me guess, not grinding on your salsiccia grossa (Big thick sausage) is on that list of boundaries?”
I roll my lips because this woman is too much. “Right at the very top, sweetheart.”
This time, she throws her head back and audibly groans. “I hate this list already.” I bark out a laugh. I can’t help it. “What else is on your party-pooping list? No shimmying?”
“You’re allowed to shimmy—”
“Geez, thanks,” she deadpans, cutting me off.
“Just make sure you’re wearing clothes and I’m not in the room.”
“I was wearing clothes earlier,” she grumbles.
“I know, but I just thought a full disclosure was needed where you’re concerned. I don’t want anything I say to be misconstrued.”
“Like the free pass you gave me before reneging on it.”
I turn my face forward and clear my throat. “Yes, like that. To be fair, though, it was only ever supposed to be a one-time thing.”
One I never should’ve offered in the first place.
I’m no longer looking at her, but I can feel her eyes drilling into the side of my head, silently studying me. “What are you so afraid of?” she asks, her voice quieter than before, but it still cuts through me like a knife.
“I’m not afraid of anyone or anything,” I answer, rising to my feet.
“Where are you going?”
“This conversation is done.”
“Just like that?”
“Yep.” I don’t look back as I stride towards the door.
I almost make it out of the room when she calls out my name. “Romeo.”
I stop and glance at her over my shoulder. “What?”
“On the other side of fear, you’ll find happiness.”
I stare at her for a beat before turning away and forcing my legs to continue moving.
I’m not going there with her.
Not now … not ever.
I already know I could love this woman for the rest of my damn life. I’d worship the ground she walked on if I could just find the courage to let myself do that.