by Vivian Arend
He grabs my ass and says, “I missed you.”
I push his hands away and wheel around. I grab his crutches and help him into the car. I am thanked for my efforts with yet another honk on my breast.
Finally, we’re driving. Luca’s just barely staying conscious, and he tells me to take him to my place. He says there’s no way I can help him up the stairs at his place.
I can’t argue with that logic, so I take him to my place.
The bed is already pulled out of the couch because I didn’t fold it away before I left in a rush.
I kneel down and pull off my mismatched shoes.
He drops the crutches and climbs onto my bed like it’s his own. Within seconds, he’s fast asleep, still in his clothes. He’s still wearing one boot, on the foot that isn’t in a cast. I pry it off his foot for him. He doesn’t wake up.
I set down the large boot and slip my foot inside. My feet aren’t small, but I could wear thirteen pairs of socks and still get my foot in Luca’s boots.
I set the single boot over by the door, turn off the lights, and climb in next to him.
I could go over to the main house and sleep there in my mother’s room, but something is keeping me here.
Outside the windows, the sky is getting lighter. The sun is already coming up. I roll onto my side and study Luca’s face.
I wonder how serious he and that other woman are, and why she wasn’t the one who picked him up from the hospital.
Oh, Luca, why are you here when you don’t belong to me? This moment is out of place, not part of our timeline.
I reach out and stroke his furry beard.
He looks so rugged, even in his sleep. I don’t know if I like the beard that much, but I definitely like his face.
I wonder what he’s going to say for himself in the morning.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
I wake up to the sound of cursing.
I sit up in my bed, and twist around to find Luca in my kitchen. By the smell of it, he’s burning toast.
There’s not enough space in the little galley for him, let alone him and his crutches.
“Good morning,” he says. His eyes are as clear blue and beautiful as the sky outside the window. He’s stuffing the last bit of toast into his mouth. “Don’t mind me. I need to take food with those painkillers, or I might get funny.”
I jump out of the bed and fold it up into the sofa.
Luca says, “Don’t do that. I was going to bring you breakfast in bed.”
“If you were hungry, you should have woken me up.” I toss the cushions back in place hurriedly. “Come and sit down. I’ll take care of that.”
“Tina, it’s just a broken bone. I can make toast.”
I walk over to him, grab his big arm, and try to pull him out of the kitchen. He grabs hold of the counter and won’t budge.
“No, you don’t. I won’t make this mistake again.” He grabs me and pulls me into an embrace.
“What are you doing?” My voice is muffled from him pressing my face against his shoulder.
His chest rumbles, and with a gravelly voice, he says, “You’re not pulling or pushing me out of your life again. I know I shouldn’t have left you that night.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, my body tense, like I’m rejecting his hug while still being in it.
“No, you shouldn’t have left, you big jerk. But you did. And you broke my heart.”
“What about you? You didn’t come to my grand opening. You sent me those funeral flowers and a generic card. You may as well have stuck an ice pick in my chest.”
My body gradually relaxes, conforming to his. He squeezes me tighter, and my arms wrap around his middle.
It’s hard to talk, but I choke out, “I don’t understand what happened with us.”
“We had our first fight, and I didn’t know how to apologize, because I couldn’t go see my florist for advice.”
I pull away and poke him in the stomach with two fingers. “Don’t make jokes, Luca. Don’t make me laugh, because it hurts too much.”
“I shouldn’t have left here that night,” he says, gazing down into my eyes. “But I was stubborn, and I thought I was right and you were wrong. Or maybe I was scared.”
“Why would you be scared?”
“My wrist hurts.” He keeps looking into my eyes. “I didn’t break my wrist last night, but when I fell, I reached out to break my fall. I’ve been thinking about this a lot, and I think the same thing happened with us.”
“I hurt your wrist?”
“I realized I was falling, and I freaked out. I tried to stop my fall, but I only made it worse.” He leans down and gently kisses me. Our lips stick together, like they don’t want to let go. “Falling in love,” he says into my lips.
I pull away from his kiss, slip out of his arms, and take three steps back. He reaches for the crutches leaning against the wall and comes after me.
He can’t move very fast, so I start walking. There’s nowhere to go inside the small cottage, so I circle the large L-shaped couch.
“Luca, don’t kiss me and don’t look at me with those eyes. You have a girlfriend. She seemed nice. She shook my hand.”
He keeps coming after me, patiently circling the sofa with the help of his crutches.
“The girl who was with me last night? She’s the one I sent the second apology flowers to. She’s my neighbor. She’s married.”
“Oh, yeah? You fool around with married ladies? Oh, gross. Double gross.”
“It’s not like that,” he growls, sounding annoyed. “She was mad at me because she sent me on a blind date with her friend, and I was a real jerk.”
I keep walking, speeding up my pace so he doesn’t catch up to me. “You were a jerk? Why am I not surprised?”
He’s puffing from the effort of chasing me on the crutches. “Wait a minute. When you came to my house for dinner, you met Chris, but you didn’t meet his wife, did you?”
I yell back, “No! Was that her? Gross! You sleep with everyone.”
“I told you, I didn’t sleep with her. She sent me on a blind date with her friend.”
I keep moving, and now I’m puffing from the effort as well. Luca can move, even on one foot.
“You slept with her friend and never called?”
“No, Tina. You are so exasperating.”
“At least I don’t sleep with everyone!”
“Slow down. I went on the blind date. We had dinner, and that was it. We didn’t even kiss. I found out later she was mad at me because I spent the whole night talking about another girl.”
I snort. “Shocker.”
“I wouldn’t stop talking about the pretty girl I met at the flower shop. I couldn’t get her out of my head.”
“Me?” I stop walking.
Luca is really motoring and doesn’t see I’ve stopped. He slams into me, and accidentally tackles me down onto the couch.
I’m face down and he’s on top of me.
My voice muffled, I ask if he really was talking about me on his date.
“Yes, you,” he says.
What he’s saying gradually sinks in. The woman I saw him with is his neighbor. She’s married to Chris, the nice guy I met from next door.
Last night, I cried out a bucket of tears, and it was all a misunderstanding?
Luca’s weight on me is comforting, like a hug.
I wriggle around so that I’m on my back, facing him. His face is red, his eyes bright blue. He’s still breathing heavily.
“Luca, are you okay? Did you bang your foot?”
“Shh.” He leans down and kisses me again.
This time I don’t push him away.
I reach up and stroke my fingers through his new beard.
We keep kissing. Time collapses, and I’m feeling our first kiss, our second kiss, our third kiss—an infinite number of kisses, from the past, present and future.
He murmurs, “I miss you.”
“I’m right here. Don’t miss me.”
“I won’t let you go.”
“Don’t let me kick you out.”
“I’ll try not to give you a reason to.”
He reaches down and lifts off the tank top I slept in.
He slides down along my body, then swirls his tongue around my nipples. He kisses every bit of bare skin.
His touch is familiar and surprising at once. I whisper that I need him. He drags his beard across my stomach, and then he’s pulling down my cotton pants and underwear.
Our bodies are a blur of tangled limbs.
While he works on my clothes, I drag his shirt off over his head. I rub my hands all over his beautiful skin, unable to satisfy my need to touch him.
Our breathing gets heavy, and I move down to battle his jeans. The bottom of one leg was cut away, but I can see without trying that they won’t come off over his cast.
I wriggle out from underneath him and jump off the couch.
He grumbles a warning that he’ll chase me down if I try to run.
“I’m naked, Luca. I’m not going to get far.”
“And I’m on crutches, so it’s a fair match.”
Giggling, I run to the bathroom, and return with a pair of scissors, plus some condoms I had ready for our last dinner.
He watches me as I gently cut away his jeans.
“There’s something in the pocket for you,” he says.
I reach over and grab his package. “I think I know what it is.”
He grins. “In the little square pocket.”
I pull the jeans off his other leg and check the pocket.
“Your heart.” I hold the tiny charm he gave me once, then took away.
“It’s yours now,” he says.
“Maybe I don’t want it. You know what? That was really mean when you gave it to me, then took it back.”
“It was just a joke.” He looks away, frowning. “I was going to give it back, but then I missed my chance. I missed my chance every day.”
“What are you saying?” I pull back, resting on my knees on the sofa, one arm coming up to cover my chest. “Have you been thinking about me this whole time?”
“I never stopped thinking about you,” he says. “But I’m stubborn. Listen, if you won’t take me back, I understand. I wouldn’t take me back either, because the truth is… if I hadn’t gotten hurt last night, and hadn’t gone to the hospital, and hadn’t realized how bad I needed you, I don’t know if I would have ever found my way back to you.”
“Don’t talk like that.” I shake my head, fighting back tears again.
“My father never remarried. He’d meet someone, and they’d go on five, maybe six dates, and then they’d have one fight and it would be over. I learned to not get attached.”
“You’re making me sad.”
“I’m so glad I broke my foot. A broken foot is nothing, compared to me ruining my life by being too damn stubborn to see what’s good for me.”
I turn and look down at the cast on his foot.
“Luca, I’m as much to blame as you are. I pushed you away when you were willing to talk. And then I sent you those flowers, and didn’t go to your party. I didn’t think I was good enough for you.”
I look down at my bare knees, feeling more naked than I’ve ever been in my life.
“But you’re perfect,” he says.
“Perfectly awful.” I grin at him.
“However it happened, we have a second chance,” he says. “From now on, we don’t walk away mad. Not ever.”
I widen my eyes and whisper-yell, “SORRY I’M A JERK.”
He grins, and also whisper-yells, “SORRY I’M A BIG, TALL JERK.”
I’m still clutching the heart in my fingers. He takes the tiny charm from me and sets it carefully on the side table.
“Be gentle with my heart,” he says.
I take him by the shoulders and push him onto his back, then I help him straighten his legs out on the cushions. I grab a soft pillow to prop up his cast, and then I start kissing him, starting at the top of the cast and working my way up.
I take a few detours, and circle back, kissing and licking some of the areas that I’ve been missing the most over the past few months.
He’s very responsive to my touch, occasionally groaning about the slow torture, while pleading me to never stop.
We both get hotter and hotter, until he grabs for one of the packets and gets ready. I climb on, cowgirl style, and show him how gentle and loving I can be, and then how wild.
His body is my playground. I run my hands over his chiseled chest and abs. I lean forward and grab his biceps, pretending to hold him down.
I grind myself against him, making up for lost time.
I catch him staring up at me.
Breathing heavily, I ask, “Want to switch and get on top?”
“I’m enjoying the view too much. Plus the cast makes things awkward.”
I slow down to a standstill. “Oh, your poor foot. Is this bad?”
His eyes go wide. “Don’t stop! You were making me feel better than Vicodin.”
He runs his hands up the tops of my thighs, then rakes down with his hard fingernails, lightly scratching my skin.
I moan and grip him tightly within me.
He closes his eyes and rocks his hips, encouraging me to keep going.
I plant my palms across his wide, hard chest and let myself go. My body knows how I want him, and it matches how he wants me.
When I’m nearing my peak, I open my eyes and spot the heart charm on the side table. The sun is streaming in the windows, and the heart is gleaming like a diamond.
I close my eyes and give myself to Luca.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
We pull the bike into the hospital parking lot. Luca’s arms are wrapped around me, and I’m the one steering the bike.
Luca says it’s my bike now, but I think it’s too early in the relationship for such extravagant gifts. We’ve only been back together for a few months, but by the way things are going, I’ll probably relent and start calling it my bike soon.
The doctors didn’t want Luca riding while his foot was still in the cast. They did say he could go on a few rides, but only if someone else drove. I think that suggestion was a joke on the doctor’s part, but Luca called a friend that night to set me up with lessons.
I like riding. I like the rumble of the engine, and the way leaning from side to side for balance feels like your whole body is connecting with motion. It’s great exercise, too. I could never have muscles like Luca’s but I’m building strength and balance.
And I look really hot in black leather pants.
Luca hops off the bike on his boot side and waits for me to get under his arm. The bad part about taking the bike anywhere is there’s no way we’re taking the crutches. People already stare enough as it is, with a girl in front and the guy with a big cast on his foot.
We hop our way into the waiting room and take a seat.
Luca is excited about getting the cast off. We brought with us a new pair of boots that lace up, so he doesn’t strain the mending bone.
I pick up a magazine, and Luca sighs.
I put down the magazine again and turn to him. “What’s going on?”
He grins. “My foot is aching a bit. Slide over here and give me some sugar.”
I glance around the waiting room. There are a few people reading magazines, pretending they didn’t hear him.
This has been our little game for the last several weeks. He only took painkillers for the first two days after the accident, then he switched over to “natural” painkillers. The treatments involve me kissing or massaging him, or the other way around. I can’t say I mind the “natural” approach at all.
He puts his arm around me and steals a long kiss. His lips ignite my passionate feelings instantly. I pull away quickly, before I embarrass myself by moaning in public, here in this hospital waiting room.
He leans over and nuzzles in my ear, “Let me see it.”
I turn and
give him a shocked look. “I’m wearing jeans,” I whisper.
He rolls his yes. “I mean your little O face.”
My cheeks feel hot. “Have you lost your mind?”
He tugs up my shirt, exposing my midriff. “There it is,” he says.
I yank my shirt down. One of the ladies across from us smiles. She probably thinks I’m having a baby—which I most certainly am not. I’m on birth control now, and while having a baby is definitely an option for the future, it’s not happening just yet.
He pulls my shirt up again and says, “O face.”
I pull it down again. “What’s gotten into you? What O face?”
“This one.” He lifts my shirt and points to three little freckles that form a triangle above my belly button. “Eye, eye, nose.” He pokes my navel. “Mouth. See? It’s a face, and the mouth is open like it’s saying O.”
Suddenly, a whole bunch of things make sense.
“Is that why I catch you talking to my stomach sometimes?”
“Do I do that?”
“Yes, you do.” I shake my head, letting out a small laugh of relief. “I thought maybe you were obsessed with getting me pregnant or something.”
He pulls back, his eyes wide. “Easy now.”
“Well, what was I supposed to think?” I tug my shirt back down. “Not that I even want that sort of thing right now.”
“Of course not. We have to get married first, and tour the world, of course. Should we get married in a vineyard, or just go there for the honeymoon?”
I blink at him. “Did you take one of those Vicodin? Where’s this wedding talk coming from?”
He pulls away from me and reaches into the pocket of his leather jacket. He clears his throat, and eases himself down onto his knee in front of me.
“Tina, I have a question for you.”
Now everyone in the waiting room is looking our way.
My cheeks are feeling very hot, and my pulse is rushing in my ears.
My voice is high and stretched thin. “Yes, Luca?”
He pulls from his pocket the tiniest diamond ring in existence. It’s the same size as the other charms on my charm bracelet.
He frowns down at the ring. “That’s funny. It seemed bigger in the store. Wait a minute. Hold onto this.” He drops the charm into my shaking hand.