Chapter 16 Luca
LUCA
Why is it that as soon as you can’t have something, you become obsessed with it? At least, that’s how it feels for me right now. In the days since Isla and I agreed not to act on our mutual attraction anymore, it seems I can’t escape her.
I walk into a room, and the scent of her favourite Earl Grey tea lingers on the air even if she’s nowhere to be seen.
I hear her voice walking down the hall of the office and find myself hoping she’s coming to see me to talk about Charlie’s baseball practices, disappointed when she isn’t.
I can’t stop staring at her during meetings and noticing things I really shouldn’t.
Like today, when I slip into the strategy meeting she’s leading with her small team.
If her blouse appears slightly sheer under these lights to me, showing the outline of a pale bra cupping breasts I fucking long to get my hands on, then that means it also might to others.
Including the young intern she recently hired to take over the vacant social media role.
It takes monumental effort not to glare at him, or worse, fire him on the spot for indecent workplace behaviour.
If anyone is having indecent thoughts, it’s me. And I’m the goddamn boss.
I’m a fucking mess.
And the worst part is, Isla seems completely unaffected. As if putting a stop to the risky flirtation we were dancing around was no big deal. Like I’m the only one unable to sleep at night, wishing things were different.
The only thing keeping me going is the possibility that it’s not a stop, it’s a pause. And in just a few months I might have a chance with her again. Although, that would mean I don’t get to see her around the office every day and that…is almost as depressing as seeing her and not being near her.
“Okay, any questions?” Her voice penetrates my thoughts, and I straighten in my chair, realizing I’ve been tuned out this entire meeting.
Not a good look, Calloway.
I plaster on what I can only hope is a professional, courteous expression that conveys the lie of totally knowing exactly what Isla was talking about.
My employees filter out of the room while I stay seated.
Some of them nod and say hi, and I nod back, not looking to the front of the room where she’s unplugging her computer.
Even when the room is empty, I don’t move. I don’t trust myself not to walk over to her and just kiss her the way I want to. To beg her to change her mind and give us a chance to see what this could be, all the reasons not to do so be damned.
“I didn’t realize you were planning on sitting in for this meeting.”
She sounds worried, in a way. And that’s enough to push me into action. Standing up, I move next to her and lean against the table. “I should’ve emailed you. Sorry if it made you uncomfortable.”
The expression on her face when she turns and looks at me is a mixture of incredulity and longing. “You don’t make me uncomfortable, Luca. Please don’t think that.”
Before I can stop myself, I’m leaning in closer so my hand brushes against hers. My other lifts up to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, but then I freeze. My hand falls and bunches into a fist.
Her eyes flutter closed, and I see her take in a breath before she shifts away.
“Sorry,” I mutter. What the hell is wrong with me that I can’t respect her wishes and stay away?
“No, don’t apologize.” Her eyes open and she looks at me again. “This is hard for me, too. As much as I know I shouldn’t, I wish things could be different. You make me feel…” she trails off, and I open my mouth to beg her to tell me what she feels, when there’s a voice from the doorway.
“Hey Isla. Oh. Sorry. Didn’t know you were still meeting with Mr. C.”
It’s the fucking intern.
I turn to him, a brittle smile on my face. “Not a problem, Nick. We’re done here.”
I glance back at Isla, noting the flush of pink on her cheeks.
Fuck, I wish we weren’t done.
The next afternoon, I stare out my office window at the cold November rain pelting down onto the field. There’s puddles of water everywhere, the skies are dark grey, and it matches my mood perfectly.
This is so much harder than I thought it would be. I’ve never wanted someone the way I want Isla, even with barely a chance to have her. A couple of kisses shouldn’t wind me up in knots like this, but it does. She does.
I turn away from the stormy weather outside and gather up my computer and some files to take home. I’m not getting any damn work done here today, might as well go home and not get any work done there. At least at home I can wear sweatpants and take my leg off.
The elevator opens on the main floor, just in time for me to see Isla struggling with an umbrella outside the front door. I pick up my pace as lightning flashes across the parking lot.
“Shit,” I mutter as I hurry to her side. “Here, use mine.” I open my umbrella and hold it over her already wet hair. “Why didn’t you go back inside to open it?” I ask, gesturing to her broken umbrella.
She blinks up at me, water droplets on her skin and eyelashes.
“It’s bad luck to open an umbrella inside.
” Her small smile has me chuckling, but my laughter dies when I see her shiver.
I hand the umbrella to her and shrug out of my jacket, draping it over her shoulders.
Do my hands linger on her arms? Maybe. Do I say anything? Fuck no.
“Thanks,” she murmurs, passing the umbrella back to me and tugging the edges of my coat together. We make our way into the parking lot and over to her car. I stand like a silent sentinel as she unlocks the vehicle and opens the door before pulling off my coat and offering it back to me.
“You gonna be okay driving home in this?” I ask in a gruff voice, gripping my coat tightly to stop myself from reaching out to her.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” She pauses, her eyes moving back and forth over my face. Her tongue darts out to lick a raindrop from her lips. I stay frozen in place when she lifts one hand up, her fingers lightly brushing over my cheek.
“Isla,” I rumble.
“I’m sorry. We can’t. I know we can’t.” Her face falls as she pulls her hand away and steps back. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” She slips into her car, and I move a few steps back, out of the way as she turns it on and slowly drives away from me.
I can’t have her. But I want to. Fucking hell, I want to.
My drive home is slow, the rain pouring steadily down on my windshield.
Once I’m in my austere apartment, the silence feeling oppressive, I move on autopilot.
I change into workout clothes before going to the room I’ve set up as a personal gym.
The all-white walls seem even more barren tonight.
But maybe it’s not the walls, but me who feels empty, lost, and alone.
The punching bag in the corner by one of the large floor-to-ceiling windows is my destination, and for a while, I simply let it all out. All the frustration, all the tension, all the fucking longing for the one woman I want, the one woman I can’t have, is poured into the bag.
I think about her deep red hair when I deliver an uppercut.
I think about her smile when I execute a right hook.
I picture her and Charlie, and a life I can all too easily see myself sliding into.
But it’s a life I can’t have as long as she works for me, or more importantly, as long as I’m keeping such a huge part of myself from her.
She doesn’t know about my missing limb. About the fact that I understand what her son lives with better than anyone.
I pull my last punch and let the bag swing as I breathe heavily, staring at myself in the mirror positioned in front of the weight bench. Who the fuck do I think I am, pining over a woman when I can’t find the courage to tell her I have the exact same condition as her son?
I move over to the bench and sink down on it, draping a towel around my neck. My leg starts to cramp, and I bend down and detach my prosthesis. As I peel away the compression sleeve and sock that covers my residual limb, I grimace.
Yeah, lusting after Isla when I still haven’t told her about my leg?
Quite possibly the worst thing about this entire situation.
Even if we never have a chance to be together, I owe it to her to come clean and tell her I have the same condition as Charlie.
I just hope that when I do tell her, she doesn’t hate me for keeping it from her.
Pushing myself up with my hands, I grab the pair of crutches I keep in the gym room and make my way into the living room.
Sitting on the couch, I grab my phone from the small side table where it sits, and unlock it, tapping into my messages.
One hand massages the end of my leg while the other holds my phone, and I stare down at the message thread I have with Isla.
The last thing we exchanged was a discussion about banner sizes.
I hesitate for a second, maybe longer, then type out a message.
LUCA: I wish things were different.
Fuck. I can’t say that. I delete it, and then, before I can think better of it, I type again.
LUCA: How is it possible that I miss you when I haven’t ever had you.
Shit. Nope. Can’t say that, either, even if it is the goddamn truth.
I quickly hit the delete button, watching my message disappear.
It doesn’t matter what I wish I could say, or how I wish things were different and I was free to pursue her.
I’m not. She made that clear the other night, and I have to respect it.
I drop my phone back down and push up to stand, grabbing the damn crutches again and move into my kitchen, filling a glass with some water and chugging it down.
The cool liquid quenches my throat but does nothing for the other heat building inside of me.
A drop spills onto my lip, and I lift my thumb to swipe it away, the movement reminding me of Isla’s hand grazing my wet cheek earlier in the rain.