Chapter 40
Luca ate his waffles and warm chocolate fudge, letting the sweetness calm his thoughts and the cheery festive fairground-style music take the edge off his mood.
He had overreacted, he knew. Gabriella didn’t know about his past, how some of his Christmases had been.
How could she? He never told anyone. Never spoke his truth.
With good reason, but also always without explanation.
‘I owe you an apology,’ Gabriella said, sitting down next to him on this wooden bench, her own portion of waffles in her hands.
‘No,’ he said. ‘You don’t.’
‘I disagree,’ she continued. ‘My mouth runs away with itself so much it could enter the New York marathon next year.’
He smiled. ‘That is true.’
‘Hey,’ Gabriella said. ‘You’re not meant to agree.’
‘Listen, you didn’t have to save me, with Phoebe.’ He looked to the young girl, a few feet ahead of them, watching a man walking on stilts and juggling, Mr Darcy by her side, sharing waffles between them. ‘I would have pled my case.’
‘OK, Christmas Criminal. And what would you have said?’
He took a breath, dug his wooden fork into a waffle.
‘That most Christmases I didn’t know if my father was going to turn up.
Or even if he was going to be alive.’ His heart beat a little faster.
Was this too much? Could he give up these kinds of memories?
He carried on. ‘I don’t know, it kind of takes the fun out of unwrapping gifts and wondering if your mom got the memo for the presents you’d been mentioning since fall.
But, you know, also not caring because you knew that she was just as worried about your father as you and your sister were. ’
‘That’s the first time you’ve mentioned your father to me,’ Gabriella said.
‘Yeah?’ he said. But he knew. He never talked about him. Wouldn’t. Couldn’t.
‘Is he still alive?’ Gabriella asked.
He could lie. He should. Instead, he nodded. ‘Yes, but we don’t see each other.’
‘His choice?’
‘Mine.’
‘Why?’
So many reasons. None of which he could talk about. ‘He’s… not a good person.’
Gabriella nodded, eating a fork full of her waffles. ‘I feel the same about both my parents and I see them too often. Not my choice. Probably not theirs either. But we put ourselves through it for Phoebe.’
He nodded and watched Phoebe feeding waffles to an excitable Mr Darcy. ‘She’s a great kid.’
‘She is a great kid. No thanks to me or my parents. She’s just one of life’s pure, beautiful souls.’
He turned a little on the bench, his leg brushing up against hers. ‘Like your sister?’
‘And like with your dad, I don’t talk about her.’
‘Why? Because your book is full of her.’
Gabriella shook her head. ‘It’s really not. I wanted it to be. But they edited it so much she’s almost erased now.’ She sighed. ‘I don’t know how or when it happened but it’s like somewhere along the line the book lost the reason I wanted to write it.’
‘Which is why you should talk about your sister. In your interviews.’
She shook her head again. ‘There’s nothing left to say.’
‘I don’t believe that.’
‘It doesn’t matter what you believe. It’s my truth.’
‘Or your lie.’ He held his breath as her eyes found his.
‘Why are you talking to me like this?’ she asked him.
Her tone gave him goosebumps. It was like here together in the middle of this festive centrepiece, they were slowly, rawly, stripping each other completely bare.
‘I think we both have things we want to share, but we’re too afraid to share them.’
‘That’s what you think?’
He paused for a beat, let himself linger inside those chestnut brown eyes. ‘It’s what I’m feeling, and what I’m learning.’
‘Well,’ she said. ‘I don’t do that.’
‘Neither do I.’ He carried on holding her gaze. ‘I also don’t kiss girls on Manhattan Bridge and forget about it.’
You want to kiss her again. You want to kiss her again and not stop there.
‘You should forget about it,’ Gabriella replied.
But her tone was saying the opposite, as was how he could feel the light but somehow intense pressure of her body next to his. He leaned in to that a little…
‘Have you forgotten about it?’
He was holding his breath now, like her answer could steal everything he had.
‘No,’ she whispered.
And as his libido practically caught alight, suddenly, over Gabriella’s shoulder, something caught his eye.
A man. Long dark coat. Carrying something by a handle.
There was no time to do anything but pull Gabriella towards him, fusing them like melting glass until she was completely enveloped by him.
He held her tight, closed his eyes and then it hit. Liquid. Soaking. Smelling. Blood?