by Nicola Marsh
Dreading heading to work—and seeing reminders of Luca everywhere—for the first time ever, she opened the front door as the phone rang. She waited, holding her breath, hoping it was Luca while chastising herself for being a coward and not picking up.
The moment his voice boomed from the answering machine, her knees shook and she gripped the door.
‘Hey, Charli, it’s me. Sorry for being a monumental jerk. If you’re there, pick up.’
She strode back to the phone, her hand hovering over it, before falling to her side.
If she answered she’d probably fall apart and make a fool of herself or, worse, beg him to stay. They’d said their goodbyes, in actions if not words. What was the point now?
‘Guess you’re screening. Don’t blame you after I ran out of there without saying a proper goodbye. Anyway, I’d really like to talk.’
Her breath caught at his sincerity and she waited, hoping for some small sign he cared as much as she did.
‘Okay, then, take care of yourself.’
He rang off, the silence exacerbating the emptiness in her heart.
He wanted to talk. Talk about what? Why he liked her and they’d connected and he’d had a good time but adios and thanks for the memories? No, the time for talking was long past. She loved him, and if he hadn’t understood that after last night he never would.
Though was she being too harsh? Guys could never read the signs and someone as emotionally closed off as Luca would find it more difficult than most. Besides, what if he did know? It wouldn’t change a thing.
She supposed she’d have to talk to him eventually but for now she had to immerse herself in work, the one thing guaranteed to take her mind off her bleeding heart.
If only it could staunch the agony too.
Luca had soul-searched over the past few days.
While he’d been in London physically, finalising some details on financing for a major kids’ cancer charity, emotionally he’d been back in Melbourne, wondering what Charli was doing, wondering if she was okay, wondering if she’d give him another chance when he returned.
He’d tried calling her again with limited success before he’d figured out what he had to say couldn’t be done over the phone. What did he think, that she’d pick up and he’d blurt ‘I love you’? Yeah, as if she’d believe that after the way he’d treated her.
No, what he had to say had to be done face to face and he’d mentally rehearsed his spiel countless times on the long flight from London to Melbourne.
So he’d had to wait and while he’d like nothing better than to rush over and see her right this very minute, he first had something else to take care of, for he knew if he didn’t get a handle on his past he might make a mess of his future.
He’d been seriously ticked off with the way Hector had chastised him for being a fool when he’d called out of desperation from the airport, until he’d mulled it at length and realised something. Pop’s no-nonsense straight-talking was exactly the way a father would treat his son—brusque, frank, no mincing words—and his initial resentment had faded, leaving him empty.
He’d dealt with the emptiness over the years, had filled it with work and raising money and giving until he felt good, but now it simply wasn’t enough. And if he was willing to let Charli into his life, maybe it was time to show Pop the same courtesy?
Striding up to the imposing glossy black double doors of Pop’s mansion, he remembered the first time he’d skipped up this path, holding on to his mum’s hand, filled with curiosity and excitement.
He’d heard so many stories of the Landrys, Australia’s most famous music family. His mum had filled his head with images of a castle, with sparkling lights and cascading fountains and shiny floors. He’d expected to be cherished in this castle. He couldn’t have been more wrong.
His mum never made the mistake of bringing him here again after that first time, when his father had been summoned by the butler, taken one look at him and slammed the door in their faces.
She’d tried other ways to introduce them, each more cringe-worthy and embarrassing than the last until he’d hit his early teens and threatened to move out if she tried another ‘meet Rad and bond’ stunt.
He’d learned to pretend it didn’t matter, that not having a dad at Father’s Day breakfast at school, parents and kids’ footy games and his graduation wasn’t a big deal, but it did, and he never forgave Rad for not caring about him when he’d done nothing wrong, nothing other than being born.
Letting himself in with a key Hector had pressed on him years earlier and he’d never used, he headed for the conservatory where Pop would be having his nightly Shiraz.
While he’d spent his life cultivating a footloose lifestyle, from what he’d seen over the past few weeks Pop favoured predictability.
He paused in the doorway, watching Pop puff on a Cuban cigar, a full glass of Shiraz at his right hand, tapping the arm rest of his recliner as he listened to his favourite Glen Miller remix. The big band crescendoed and Pop conducted with his cigar, lost in an era of brass and woodwind.
Reluctant to interrupt his relaxation but needing to get this over with so he could visit Charli, he stepped into the glass-enclosed room.
‘You still smoking those cancer sticks?’
Pop glanced up, the initial caution in his eyes giving way to a grin as welcoming as it was the first time they’d met.
‘If they don’t kill me, this will.’ He raised the Shiraz in a silent toast. ‘But damn, I’ll go happy.’
Considering he’d pushed this man away his entire life, he didn’t have the right to lecture so settled for silence as he took a seat opposite.
‘Glad you finally used the key.’
He waited for an ‘about time’ but Pop merely puffed on his cigar.
‘Anything happen while I was away?’
‘You mean apart from me keeping an eye on Charli?’
It took all his will power not to leap out of the chair at the mention of her name.
‘How is she?’
‘Fine. For a woman so besotted by you she can’t concentrate on work.’
Pop matched his belligerent glare. ‘She’s been mooning around the office the last few days. No surprises why.’
‘She probably wants to throttle me in person.’
The scepticism in Pop’s eyes faded, replaced by the genuine fondness he’d craved growing up.
‘She loves you, son. Don’t mess it up this time.’
Son … That one small word unravelled him, made him feel about ten years old and just as needy of approval and love.
But all he could focus on now was the fact Pop said Charli loved him. He thought she loved him … though they’d never really made any declarations … and after the way he’d run out on her.
‘I’m heading over there as soon as we’re done.’
Pop gulped half his Shiraz before placing the glass on the side table with a sigh.
‘What’s so important you visited me first?’
‘I need to talk about Rad.’
Luca avoided looking over Pop’s right shoulder, at the grand piano covered in family pictures. He could never stomach seeing his father’s smug face, the arrogance he wore like a designer suit.
‘Your father wanted to bridge the gap between you, he just never knew how.’
Luca fought to keep his top lip from curling into a snarl.
‘When was that? After he’d ignored me the first five years? Or the next ten?’
He leapt from his chair and started pacing. ‘He never recognised I was his son. Mum tried, you tried. So there’s nothing you can say that’ll convince me he was anything but a callous bastard.’
Pop stubbed out his cigar and rose to his feet, reaching out a hand he ignored.
‘Then why are you here?’
‘Because I want to know why, damn it! I was hoping you might have some answers so I—’
‘Go on, son.’
Luca stopped dead and gripped the back of the ne
arest chair. ‘So I don’t end up like him, an emotional cripple.’
‘You already love Charli so you’re capable of feeling a lot more than Rad ever did,’ Hector said, his tone weary. ‘And I should know.’
Sinking into the nearest chair, Luca dropped his head into his hands.
‘I don’t understand.’
With a heavy sigh, Pop pulled up a chair nearby. ‘This is partially my fault.’
He raised his head. ‘How can this remotely be your fault?’
Pop paled, his sombre expression sending a shiver of dread through Luca.
‘Rad couldn’t be a father to you because he didn’t know how. He’d never had a good example to begin with.’
Confused, Luca shook his head. ‘But you’ve always been there—’
‘For you.’
Pop’s hand shook as he ran it across his eyes. ‘To make up for the lousy excuse of a father I was with Rad.’
Collapsing back into the chair, Pop seemed to have aged ten years.
‘I was never around. The business consumed me. When I wasn’t at the office I was schmoozing rock royalty, trying to woo the big names to sign with Landry Records. I thrived on a challenge and no star was too big or too small for me not to go after them.’
He shrugged. ‘Rad never knew me.’
Speechless, Luca stared at the only man he’d ever trusted yet didn’t really know at all.
‘So you wanting to get to know me? That’s been about your guilt?’
‘Partly.’
Pop clasped his hands together to stop the shaking but at that moment, with his head reeling from the impact behind the truth, Luca couldn’t dredge up pity.
‘But it only took a few visits and I was smitten by every cheeky, rambunctious inch of you.’
The glimmer of tears in Pop’s eyes hit him hard and he swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat.
‘Accepting you, loving you, wasn’t a product of my guilt. It was being charmed by a little boy who had so much to give without demanding anything in return. Then you grew up and didn’t want much to do with me, just like your father, and I was so useless at bridging the gap, wanting to but still not having a clue how to do it …’
Hell, the lump in his throat grew and his chest ached with the effort not to cry.
Luca didn’t know how long they sat there, Pop’s declaration hanging in the air between them, but when he was confident he could speak without his voice shaking, he said, ‘So Rad never knew how to be a dad?’
He hated having to ask, hated sounding so needy, but hearing Pop’s confession opened the door to maybe forgiving his father, letting in a breath of fresh hope.
He finally understood. He’d had a similar fear, not being able to connect with anyone, not being able to love because he didn’t know how, not having seen it firsthand and, somehow, empathising with Rad eased his bitterness like nothing else could.
Pop nodded. ‘That’s right, son. I’d always know when your mother had tried to set up another meeting, for he’d get this dazed, confused expression for days. Like he wanted to reach out but didn’t know how.’
‘But he never once acknowledged me. He shut me out.’
‘He just didn’t know how.’
He only just caught Pop’s murmured, ‘I should know.’
‘Oh, Pop.’
Luca stood and bent to give Pop a manly hug, the first time he’d ever embraced his grandfather.
‘We both have a lot of learning to do but I’m willing to try if you are?’
‘You bet.’ Pop sniffled and he gave him a moment to compose himself before straightening.
‘Thanks for telling me the truth.’
‘Long overdue,’ Pop said, his gruffness masking a world of regret. ‘Now, before I bore you any further with an old man’s ramblings, don’t you have somewhere to be?’
Feeling lighter than he had in years, he held out his hand.
‘Wish me luck.’
Pop shook his hand, pumping it as if the next few hours were a foregone conclusion.
‘You don’t need luck, son. Charli’s as smitten as I was all those years ago.’
Wanting to leave on a light note, he winked. ‘Must be that legendary Landry charm I inherited.’
‘Must be.’
Pop’s smile warmed his heart. ‘Now, go get our girl.’
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHARLI had just stepped out of the shower when she heard what sounded like a hundred tap-dancing elephants pounding at her door. Elephants that wouldn’t let up while she quickly wrapped a towel around her and tied it between her breasts.
If this was yet another late-night visit from the über-efficient receptionist at Landry Records she’d scream. Business could wait until morning, especially since she’d been starting work at the crack of dawn the past few days.
‘If this can’t wait ‘til morning it better be good …’
The rest of her rant died on her lips as she opened the door to find the last man she expected to see.
Luca didn’t speak. He didn’t need to, his sexy smile saying it all as his gaze started at her toes and swept upwards, lingering on the towel.
She burned beneath his stare, her skin tingling from more than a hot shower.
‘Am I the only one seeing the irony in this?’
Heck, when she’d envisaged talking to Luca again, it had been a civilised, prepared-for conversation over the phone. No way had she prepared for this.
‘I thought you were going to call?’
‘I did, you wouldn’t answer, so I came back instead.’
As he crossed the threshold he added, ‘For you.’
‘Don’t put yourself out or anything,’ she muttered, closing the door and leaning against it, clutching her towel, which was in danger of seriously unravelling along with her wits.
Thankfully, he gave her space, waiting for her to come to him. Smart move, considering she couldn’t stay propped against the door all night.
‘You let me in, so I guess that’s a start.’
‘Luca, I—’
‘I’m sorry for acting like a coward that last time.’
He raked a hand through his hair, the caramel spikes making her fingers itch to smooth them.
‘I should’ve said a proper goodbye.’
With a sigh, she released the death-grip on her towel and eased away from the door.
‘What was left to say?’
‘Plenty.’ He hesitated, and she’d never seen him so uncertain. ‘I took the easy way out when I should’ve faced the truth.’
Confused, she bided her time, blown away by his appearing on her doorstep like this only days after he’d left but struggling to make sense of it.
The truth was she loved him and she’d made no effort to hide it their last night together. So maybe he’d finally realised; so what? It meant she had to deal with it and move on with her life.
‘And the truth is—’
‘Is there really any point to discussing this?’
The raw pain she’d managed to subdue over the past week exploded in her chest again, just as agonising, just as devastating as when he’d left, and she fisted her hands, willing it to subside before she crumpled.
Desperate for air, her chest heaved with the effort of breathing as she scrambled for the right words to make him leave before she blurted the truth: how much she wanted him to stay.
‘Charli, the truth is—’
‘The truth is I love you! I know it. You know it. So why rehash our little fling?’
The declaration burst out of her, past the lump in her throat, ripped from her in a frightening gush of honesty that left her shaking.
She wanted to choke back the rest but having the truth ripped from her only made her want to blurt more. ‘But don’t worry, I get it. You’re here to apologise for the way you left, apology accepted, so you can forget I said all that and go. Besides, nothing could ever come of it. We lead separate lives on separate continents—’
Before s
he could finish he’d swept her into his arms and hugged her so tight she couldn’t breathe.
When she finally inhaled, warm male and citrus lime and pure Luca filled her senses, richly evocative, highly addictive.
She could’ve stayed snuggled in his arms all night but what would be the point? They were over and if he thought he could do this every time he popped into town, he could think again.
She’d resigned herself to bumping into him on occasion through Hector, quite capable of the occasional polite greeting at the office. But having him turn up on her doorstep, expecting he could hug her and touch her and reopen the wound every time she saw him? No way.
Placing her palms on his chest, she pushed gently and eased off on the bear hug.
‘Say it again.’
His eyes shone with an emotion that snatched her breath.
‘Say what?’
‘That you love me.’
She shook her head, wondering if water had stuck in her ears. Why on earth would he want her to say that?
Drained to the point of her legs giving way, she said, ‘Look, Luca, I’m not sure why you’re here but there’s nothing you need to say. We had a great time while it lasted, let’s leave it at that.’
‘Let’s not.’
She gaped as he spun away from her, rubbed the back of his neck where the muscles stood rigid.
‘Damn, I’m making a mess of this again.’
When he spun back to face her, she clutched the back of the sofa for support at his wild-eyed expression.
‘When I first ran without saying goodbye I talked myself into believing it was because I had commitments elsewhere. But that was a crock. I didn’t know how to handle the emotional stuff. I’ve never learned.’
‘Because of Rad?’
‘Yeah.’
His shoulders sagged, and while she felt a twinge of sympathy, she wasn’t buying his excuse completely. She heard the sincerity in his tone, saw the genuine fear in his face, and while they didn’t have a future, now he’d opened the door to this little powwow she was going for broke. That way, she’d have no regrets she held back when she had the opportunity.