Chapter 11 #3
She leaned against the railing and dropped her bag on the concrete floor. “Thanks.” It was all she could manage to say. For some reason, she was gasping great gulps of air, causing the world to spin.
Luca. That was his name. She remembered it now. He was so handsome with his dark hair all askew from the fight.
“Are you all right?” he asked, concern on his face as he rushed to hold her steady.
“I don’t know,” she said, and then everything faded to black as she crumpled to the ground.
When she woke, she was on some kind of couch. It was old-fashioned, but soft and comfortable, and there was a light blanket pulled up over her legs. She lay on her side and noticed a record player against the wall, along with a stack of records in their cardboard covers beside it.
She sat up and felt an immediate surge of pain in her skull. With both hands on her head, she groaned. Luca came into the room carrying a cup of tea in one hand and a handkerchief filled with ice in the other.
“You’re awake, then? Good.” He sat beside her on the couch. “Here, put this on your cheek. He really clocked you. Don’t worry—I made him pay for that.”
She tried to smile, but it hurt too much. She whimpered at the effort, then pressed the handkerchief to her cheek. “Ouch.”
“What happened?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I think he was drinking.”
“He’s a mean drunk,” Luca replied. “I don’t know him well, but usually he seems okay. His wife has always been kind to everyone in the building, that’s why I tagged along when she had the baby, wanted to make sure she was okay.”
“Thanks for rescuing me,” Mima replied, then tried to wriggle her jaw. “I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t come in when you did.”
“My flat is only a few doors down. I heard your screams and came as fast as I could.” His accent was soft, comforting. His brown eyes were deep and lined by long black lashes.
“You’re a hero.” Mima met his gaze with a half smile. “Really, I can’t say thank you enough.”
“As long as you’re okay, that’s what matters to me.” He rested a hand on her shoulder. “Can I drive you home?”
“Yes, please. That would be great. I can’t stomach the idea of the bus now. My head feels like it might explode.”
“Would you like a drink first? I have tea…”
“Tea is perfect,” she said.
He brought her some and she placed the handkerchief on the coffee table beside the couch, then held the cup and sipped the tea. The hot liquid was exactly what she needed. She immediately felt better.
He sat watching her, his hands resting on his knees. “You know, I hoped we’d get to meet again. But not like this.”
She grimaced. “You planned the whole thing, didn’t you?”
He winked. “You figured it out. Would you go to dinner with me sometime?”
She looked around the room. “I don’t know anything about you, Mr Falco. And I’m not that kind of girl.”
He grunted. “Right. Well, my parents emigrated to this country after the war when I was fifteen. The accent is Italian. I’m a musician.
I play bass guitar in a band down at the Palais Royale most weeks.
The rest of the time, I do whatever I can to pay the bills.
And I was raised Catholic. Is there anything else you’d like to know? ”
“Do you have siblings?”
“Seven sisters,” he replied.
She gaped. “Seven? Wow.”
“Yeah, it was torturous. How about you?”
“I’m an only child. My parents tried for a long time, but all they got was me.”
“Seems like a good deal,” he replied.
“I’ve always thought so. Unfortunately, they don’t agree.”
He cocked his head to one side. “What a shame. So… dinner?”
She studied him. He seemed like a nice man.
A musician was definitely the kind of man she would’ve been attracted to before her heart had been torn out of her chest by Ollie’s death during the war, but she hadn’t dated anyone seriously since.
She wasn’t sure she ever would. This could be fun, though—they could get to know one another.
They might have a good time. And she’d been in the doldrums lately.
Life had become a bore—the same people, the same routine, the same work.
Every day blended into the next with barely a thing to separate them.
She should take a chance, do something risky. It might help her feel alive again.
“Okay, dinner it is.”
“Great. Let’s take you home.” He offered his arm, and she rose to accept it.
It felt good to be wanted. For a man to look at her that way again.
She’d be careful, though, because she was all alone in the city with no chaperone.
Her parents couldn’t vet him—they were in Bathurst. But she felt like throwing caution to the wind.
She wanted to know what it was like to do what she wished without the constant worry of what others would think.
Ollie had helped her feel confident in her own skin.
Everyone had always believed her to have plenty of self-confidence because of how she behaved, but it was Ollie who’d really made her feel it.
And there was something about Luca that drew her in that same way, like maybe he could love her the way Ollie had.
She picked up her bag and followed him outside.