by Helena Rac
She takes my face in her hands and says, “You’ll be fine. I know you will.”
I nod again.
“Let me make you some of my special homemade tea to make everything better.” She smiles and I smile back. I absolutely love her tea blend. I have no idea what she puts in there, but I do know it always makes me feel better. Mother-daughter boy-trouble talks are always more fruitful over a warm drink.
“I’d love some, thanks. Maybe a couple of cookies too.”
She nods and I make my way to the sofa. The same sofa Luke and I snuggled on. Now I’m just snuggling the pillow. It’s soft, but not nearly as cozy and warm and … hard. Nope, not hard at all. Really, it’s quite depressing.
“How did you know to come?” I ask as she whirls around the kitchen.
“Rose called and told me about the morning you had. Don’t worry, I haven’t said a thing to Clara.” It’s like she can read my mind; I was just about to ask. I’m sure Rose gave her very clear instructions. “Tell me more, sweetie.”
“I’m such a mess, Mom. I have no idea what to do,” I say with a shaky voice as I take a sip of the tea.
“Just tell me whatever’s on your mind. Sometimes just being able to talk things through helps.”
She’s right. At this point I have nothing to lose. I tell her the story of Luke and me, and how wonderful the last few days have been with him. How frightened I was to let him in, and how, once I did, I was even more frightened to let him stay. And how I panicked and needed that sense of control more than I’d ever needed it before, to keep my heart from shattering once again. Except it did and I realized it too late. My mom, of all people, knows how difficult it is to lose the person you care about.
“Sweetie, I know Daddy always told you to think with your head, not your heart, and I know that it’s stuck with you even more since he’s been gone and since Jason left. But you should know by now that you can’t control everything that life throws your way. There was no warning when I lost your father–” She pauses and takes a sip, collecting her thoughts. Even years after my dad passed away, it’s still so difficult for her to talk about his death.
“Sometimes the head can be more confusing than the heart,” she continues. “I never told you this before, but your dad wasn’t always so set on having his head rule his decisions.”
I look up at her expectantly, more than a little confused. My dad was as set on his ability to control his emotions, his sense of self, as any person I know. Except for maybe me.
“Tessa, before we had you, your dad was more easygoing, something I always loved about him. He’d do things on a whim and enjoy the consequences, good or bad. One of those consequences was, well, you.”
Huh. That’s an interesting little piece of information that I get to find out at twenty-six. I must give her a questioning look, because she reassures me as she continues.
“And it was a good thing. You were our pride and joy. But after we had you, your dad changed somehow. He wanted to be there for you, he wanted to make sure you were well taken care of. He made it a point to raise you to be a level-headed, strong woman, able to fend for yourself. And you’ve been that woman. All these years, and especially since he’s been gone. You’ve always been so self-sufficient.”
I have been. Definitely something that has served me well in life. “He did a pretty good job.” I smile.
She smiles back and pauses, like she’s trying to think of just how to frame the rest of the story, and then asks, “Sweetie, did I ever tell you how your dad and I met?”
My dad told us the story several times. His face would brighten up and he’d get this giddy look about him. “Yeah, you did. You met him at a coffee shop, when you came to visit with your aunt and uncle.”
Her expression is reminiscent, and her eyes sparkle. “Yes, that’s how we met in Chicago. But I don’t think you’ve heard the whole story.”
“Oh?”
“It was a summer when I came to visit Auntie Amelia and Uncle George. I was just eighteen. It was the first time I’d ever left home, and I was traveling all on my own. I was beyond excited. Heathrow was very busy – the crowds, the hustle. It was a bit overwhelming, I must admit. And while I managed to get to the gate to board the flight, I was so focused on keeping my purse, my passport, and my tickets on me that I left my carry-on behind when I lined up to board the plane. It was then that I first met your dad. He called after me and brought me my carry-on. And god, he was so handsome, with his dark hair and those deep brown eyes, I could only stutter to thank him. As fate would have it, when I was finally in my seat and ecstatic that I’d made it that far, guess who sat next to me?”
“Hmm, Dad?”
She nods. “Yes, it was your dad. It was at that moment I felt a little spark. Like something had led me to that point in my life, to that exact flight, to that assigned seat, only to meet him. He was on his way from Italy to the States, hoping to make a life for himself. He was so young back then, full of hopes and dreams and aspirations. Nothing was going to stop him.”
That’s how I’ll always remember him – ambitious, determined, someone who always followed through – and how I’ve always wanted to be. Yet, I’m realizing, with Luke I failed to follow through on my promise.
“We talked the entire plane ride over, even with his broken English. He was quite charming. When we finally arrived in Chicago, we parted ways before we were able to exchange phone numbers. It was kind of bittersweet, I must admit. He stayed in my thoughts for days after. A week later I was at a coffee shop, and just as I was leaving your dad was on his way in. I ran straight into him and spilled my coffee all over his shirt. We couldn’t believe that another chance encounter had led us to finding each other again. If I had left a few minutes earlier or he’d come in a few minutes later, who knows – you may never have been born.”
She cups my cheek and smiles, and all I feel is pure love and affection. I lean into the palm of her hand and can’t help but smile with her.
“This time he didn’t let me go without getting my number,” she continues after a moment. “We met up later that evening, and the day after, and pretty much spent the entire summer together – crazy, young love – until it all too quickly came to an end. I was leaving; he was staying in Chicago. But your dad never gave up on us. We managed to stay in touch over the next year, although it wasn’t as easy as it is today. The phone calls are cheaper, there are video chats and texting – all sorts of ways to stay connected.”
Is she trying to tell me something, or has she just taken a course on how to become a tech-savvy mom?
“What happened?” I ask, since this is not where their story ended. After all, I was one of their “consequences.”
“I never thought I would be back, but when your grandparents died in a car crash the next summer, Aunt Amelia and Uncle George invited me and Auntie Maddie to stay with them. Losing my parents was devastating. But if I hadn’t lost them, I’m not sure I’d ever have made it back to your dad. I wasn’t as strong of a believer in chance as he was. He always knew in his heart that I was the one for him and that he was the one for me. That we were right for each other. He told me so many times. And he never doubted that we would be together again.” She wipes away a tear that has rolled down her cheek.
Well that’s a story if I ever heard one. As I’m processing the details, I can’t help but compare my relationship with Luke to that of my mom and dad. So many similarities, but also some noticeable differences. One noticeable difference.
“But I don’t love Luke. I mean, I can’t possibly. Not when I’ve only known him for a few days. How can I be sure that this is it? That Luke and I are meant to be? That we’re made to fall in love?”
“The thing is, honey, you don’t know. You may not love him – yet. And maybe you’re not meant to be together. But you will never find out if you don’t try. You owe it to yourself, to him – to both of you – to give it a chance. For once, forget reason, forget logic, and just go with what’s in your he
art. Life has a funny way of working out. And when it does, it’s pure bliss.”
Hearing my parents’ story has effectively shattered what I thought I knew and what I’ve lived by. What made me the person I am today. I need to process what my mom has said and figure out if my heart is ready for this leap of faith.
I spend the day thinking, writing out lists and plans, then scratching things off, crumpling the paper, tossing it in the trash. I take another nap, think, eat, check in with Rose, and attempt writing more. With the same outcomes. The trash can is kind of overflowing. I check in with Clara to make sure she’s doing fine with the wedding a day away. Then think some more. It’s exhausting.
By the end of the day, I still haven’t collected enough courage to acknowledge what my heart has been telling me all along – that I have fallen for Luke. Though there is one thing I’m starting to realize. Feelings like these need no lists, no plans. No, these types of feelings just happen naturally, it appears.
Chapter 21
The wedding day has finally arrived. I wake up feeling excited and petrified all at the same time. I have no doubt Clara and Marcus are meant to be together. That’s the exciting part. My not-so-little-anymore sister is getting married to a guy who means the world to her, and she means the world to him. What scares me is the sickening feeling that I may have made a huge mistake and let the one guy go who could potentially have meant the world to me.
I was sure that I would wake up and everything would just magically make sense. No such luck. The talk with my mom yesterday was helpful, but also confusing. I have thought of every possible scenario, of all the pros and cons. Would Luke move back? Would I ever be able to leave Chicago? Yes, I’ve actually considered it. Crazy, I know. Would long-distance work for the time being? Would it all be worth it?
Of course, none of the above questions are even relevant given there’s nothing to consider. I’m the one who broke things off with Luke. I’m almost certain even if I tried to convince him to take me back, he wouldn’t. If you give up on us right now, I don’t know if I’ll be able to take you back again. I’m serious, Tess. This will be it. Luke’s words echo in my head. And he certainly hasn’t made the effort this time around. He’s probably given up on me. If I were him, I would seriously doubt my trust, my commitment, and my emotional strength. If I were him, I would find me terribly disappointing. I abandoned him even though I knew that was the one thing he was trying to protect himself against ever since he was abandoned by his mom.
I also know there’s no point in dwelling on this any more than I already have. I spent pretty much all of yesterday doing just that. I’m moving on. The controlling, rational Tessa can kiss my ass. I’ll just have to see how things play out. Maybe if I do I’ll have that moment of clarity, when everything just comes together. Or maybe I’m delusional in thinking that’s even a remote possibility. I have a feeling it may be the latter.
I drag myself out of bed and head straight for the bathroom. Jesus! I nearly jump in shock as I see myself in the mirror. My hair is a tangled mess, my face still looks exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster I went through yesterday, and my body’s tired from the restless sleep. A complete overhaul – that’s what I’ll need if I’m ever going to show myself in public again.
Once in the shower, I close my eyes, welcoming the warmth of the water, and just stand there, letting it run down my body. This is nice. This is just what I needed. This is so – Ugh! Fucking Luke! He’s all I see, even with my eyes closed. The memories of our short-lived “relationship” appear like movie stills in the digital archive of my brain, one after the other. I’m overwhelmed by them, and I’m almost certain I’ll hold onto them forever, even if I make a conscious effort to forget. It’s like they’re a part of me, he’s a part of me, and I can’t seem to be able to let go of him.
Shake it off, Tessa!
Channeling my inner Swifty appears to be futile. Just when I think my mind can’t possibly handle any more of Luke, my senses take it to another level. As I rub the soap over my skin, I feel the softness of his touch where his fingers trailed down my arms just a couple of days ago, in this very shower. I sense the warmth of his breath against my neck, as if he’s right here with me. I can almost feel his kisses trail down my skin, teasing, tasting every inch of my body. I ache deep down, aroused by the mere thought of him inside me. My nipples harden at that same thought and I am utterly lost in the illusion of Luke. I want nothing more than to have him right here with me.
How could you be so stupid, Tessa? I don’t know. I need to set things right. I need to let him know how I really feel, or I’ll forever be miserable and alone. Old, gray-haired, stuffing my mouth with cupcakes to fill my empty heart. I shudder at the disturbing image. I love cupcakes, but I don’t love them that much.
I need to fix this; no more moping. I need a new plan. I need to think big. This one I’ll refer to as Mission: Impossible. I know how ridiculous it sounds, but it’s accurate, and I’m resolute. I know as soon as I see Luke today that I will want nothing else but to be with him, and I also know there may be no way in hell he’ll even consider being with me. But I have to try. I have to convince him, just like he’s convinced me, that we are meant to be.
As I step out of the shower, a new Tessa emerges. I have control of not only what’s in my head, but also what’s in my heart. I have control over the feelings that I finally let resurface. This time, I don’t care if I get hurt. I will be an emotional wreck if I don’t try. It’s as if everything that used to scare me now makes me that much more determined. I’m ready to let my heart heal and begin to love again. That thought alone is so freeing, so emotionally uplifting.
I’ve definitely fallen for Luke. I know it’s not love, but whatever it is, it feels incredible. I can’t let any doubt of whether he feels the same cloud my thoughts right now. That I have to shut out for the moment. I have to win him back, and there is not an ounce of me that doesn’t feel seriously giddy at the thought of spending more time with him. If only for two more days. I know just what I have to do. And I really, really hope this time my plan doesn’t backfire. Third time’s a charm, right?
I spend a few minutes writing out the list. I want to share it with Luke so that I can tell him exactly how I feel. I can’t risk missing any important details. I read and re-read it and smile because – let’s face it – I’m awesome at making lists.
When I’m happy with how it’s turned out, I grab the bag I packed last night and leave my apartment. Clara and Marcus are having their wedding at the Ritz, and the wedding party is staying at the hotel courtesy of Marcus and his connections. I know for a fact Luke has been staying there since the night of the rehearsal dinner. I need to call Marcus and find out what room Luke is staying in. Having connections like these can be extremely valuable when one is attempting to complete Mission: Impossible.
Next, I head to Lovely Cakes to pick up the wedding cake so I can deliver it to the Ritz before I meet up with the girls for our hair, makeup, and all-around pampering – much-needed therapy considering my current state.
Rose did an amazing job putting the finishing touches on the cake. I knew I could count on her. It really did turn out just the way I envisioned – elegant, luxurious, and one-of-a-kind romantic. The five layers alternate between red velvet and chocolate cake, each filled with buttercream. Dark chocolate edible ribbons tie the white fondant layers together so the look is clean yet grand. Lush crimson sugar roses with crystal rosebud brooches nestled in them are scattered over the layers. The cake is spectacular, and I am positive Clara and Marcus will love it.
After I load it carefully into the bakery van, I pick up a little something else that I hope will help me accomplish my plan. I’m on a mission – not only to get the cake delivered in one piece, but also to make sure my heart stays intact.
When I get to the Ritz, I set the cake up in the ballroom, arranging dark-red rose petals around it. I smile in satisfaction at how beautiful it looks and give myself a mental high-f
ive for bringing it all to life. Then I take a deep breath, knowing that even though one mission’s been accomplished as planned, there is another one still waiting. And the one several floors up will definitely not be as easy.
I find my way to Luke’s floor, my knees shaky, my heart racing. In my mind, all I can imagine is Luke opening the door, wrapping his arms around me, holding me tight, and never wanting to let me go. He tells me he’s missed me and then kisses the hell out of me. All of me. And then we live happily ever after. Or something like that.
But after the way I left things between us on Thursday night, I have a hunch the vision in my head is probably not the reality that awaits. The thought of that is nearly paralyzing, but I choose to ignore it.
When I’m finally at his door, armed and ready with a small box in one hand and my list in the other, I take a moment to gather my courage and then knock. And wait – rather impatiently. This is it; he’ll answer any moment, I can feel it. Just a few more seconds… Damn it! No response. Perhaps he didn’t hear me knock?
My fear of not being able to get to him like I’d planned intensifies. With the adrenaline pumping, I knock louder, then look around to make sure no hotel staff are around before shouting, “Housekeeping!”
Pathetic. Apparently that’s what happens when heart trumps reason.
“Coming.” I hear Luke’s deep, sexy voice from afar. “Be right there.”
You can do this, Tessa, my subconscious cheers me on, even though my composure may be faltering, unlike moments ago when I was in my element, arranging the cake. This is different, but I’ve totally got this. As Luke opens the door, I’m ready to read him my list: all the reasons I need to be with him, and all the reasons he needs to be with me. I may be his cupcake, but he’s my icing. We belong together.
Except that there’s one little problem. My voice, which was so ready to speak up, stalls. My jaw drops and I freeze. The only things that seem to be functioning are my stupid, stupid hormones.