L'amore: The Luminara Series

by SJ Molloy

  Oh God. My stomach is back flipping.

  “Please don’t go all alpha male on me. You should be thanking him because he genuinely looked out for me and was a perfect gentleman.” Now my mood is shifting from excitable to nervous.

  “Lexi, the fucker intimidates you.”

  “No, he doesn’t, not anymore. It’s all an image the press has portrayed. He actually is an alright guy, and he said he wanted to help so Cameron wouldn’t get pissed at him for leaving me. I can see how they’re friends because he is really down to earth. He’s been extremely obliging by bringing me home. Please don’t give him a hard time. He’s done nothing wrong.”

  He moans then hisses through his teeth and sighs, contemplating it. “Lexi, just put him on.”

  “Please, Lucca, are you even listening to me? Promise me.” I sound like I’m pleading because he’s worrying me. It’s obvious he’s going to be rude, and I hate bad manners, even if he is protecting me and has my best interests at heart.

  “Fine. I love you, and I will speak to you later.” There’s no mistaking he’s sharp and to the point. I don’t think he has any intention of being civilised.

  Hobbling back into the kitchen, Jackson is leaning against the counter drinking a fruit juice, gauging me. Biting the inside of my cheek, I pass him the phone nervously.

  “Lucca wants to speak to you.” My arm is stretched fully, and I keep my distance. It’s as if hearing Lucca’s voice he has me believing he’s watching me.

  Using the pad of my thumb, I dab under my eyes wiping the last of my stray tears away. Jackson cocks his head, watching me while listening to Lucca. Aware he’s looking at me, I turn my back to him, lifting a hankie to blow my sniffling nose. I place it in the bin, wash my hands, then load the dishwasher with the plates, tossing my sandwich in the bin having lost all appetite which he notices also.

  Listening to Jackson, he’s calm and collected and sounds understanding, but I can’t hear Lucca, so I’ve no idea what he’s saying. Jackson is telling him there’s no need to thank him, it was no problem, and that he would have done the same. I also hear Jackson reassure Lucca that I’m fine and not to worry. All the while, Jackson’s watching my every move.

  When he hangs up, Jackson tells me Lucca thanked him and that he was grateful for his assistance today in his absence, so I relax my shoulders, forming an unwavering smile and I’m relieved.

  “You still haven’t eaten anything,” he points out.

  “No, I’m really not hungry anymore.”

  “Have you been crying?” He places the phone down on the counter and tilts his head, studying me

  “No.”

  There is an unsettling tension in the atmosphere, a thick foggy air that surrounds us both.

  “Alexis, I should go soon. Lucca did thank me, but he also gave me a strong warning to stay away from you when he’s not around, and I need to respect that.” He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. The change is night and day. One minute he wanted to run me to my appointment and now Lucca has warned him, he wants to rush off.

  Hot and cold.

  Lucca - Caveman!

  Shaking my head with realisation I whisper, “I’m sorry, he’s a little protective.”

  “No, don’t be sorry, I get it. If you were my girl, I’d do the same. And you’re not any ordinary girl, so it’s no wonder he feels as if he needs to protect you from douchebags. Guys like me.” He holds one hand on the nape of his neck in an exasperated sigh.

  I sincerely hope Lucca never called him a douchebag or I’ll be even angrier.

  I turn around, and he catches my sad expression. I sense he’s putting himself down because of the bad boy image portrayed, and I feel as if I need to remedy his doubts.

  “Hey, you’re not a douche, you’re a great guy and misunderstood,” I reassure him.

  His lip curls.

  “Don’t be mad at him, he’s just looking out for you, he really loves you. He’s got absolutely nothing to worry about but I’ll respect his wishes. He seems like a great guy.”

  He leans towards me, closing the space … his lips near mine … my pulse quickens, my heart pounds and I feel hot and flustered again. I can’t look in his eyes, knees trembling, body shaking in fear. Quickly, I tilt my head to the side dipping my chin. Just when I think he’s going to try and kiss me, he nudges his fingers lightly across my chin playfully.

  Something Cameron would do.

  “Look after yourself, Alexis, and that ankle and wrist and cuts and whatever else is going on because of your two left feet.”

  I laugh.

  “I’ll try, but I’m a calamity, so it’s going to be a challenge.”

  He wipes a tear softly from my cheek. I know this is wrong, but I find comfort in it.

  When I open my eyes, he’s gone and I furtively breathe as I hold onto the warmth of my cheek where his hand was.

  Moments later, Omari politely kisses the same cheek as he prepares to leave.

  “Omari, did Lucca give you a grilling?” I ask gingerly before he does go.

  “Hell yes, but what did you expect? He was frantic. He wanted me to wait until after Jackson left to ensure he wasn’t left alone with you. It’s funny as it’s always been me he doesn’t trust. I suppose I’m the good guy now.” He smirks that devilish sexy grin.

  Fuck!

  File G for guilty. Guilty as sin.

  “I suppose you are,” I reply, sounding lifeless with little enthusiasm in my voice giving Cameron the eyes.

  Once they leave, I slump on the sofa in the living room, totally bewildered and feeling awful. Doris jumps up and snuggles in, burying her head into my neck sensing I’m upset. Cameron left with Omari to get ready for work. He said he’ll check in tomorrow, satisfied that Jess will be staying with me tonight.

  I could curl up and sleep now, but I have obligations.

  Chapter 22

  The colour Blue

  Marco kindly waits outside the family planning clinic for me in Lucca’s black stretch limo. Of all the cars, he has to have me driven around like a blooming gala queen. I would have gotten here just fine in my little Ford Focus.

  Ridiculous.

  Going through all the contraception options, I make a last minute decision change. Initially I wanted Depo-Provera, but I can’t be bothered with going to the surgery every twelve weeks to get the injection, so I decide to go for Nexplanon, the contraceptive implant which will be inserted under the skin of my upper arm.

  I won’t need to worry about the risks when accidentally missing my pill, and after we are married, when the time is right and I’m emotionally in a better place, I can have it removed anytime and fertility should resume.

  Ideal!

  The young, helpful doctor thoroughly goes over the pros and cons. She mentions the side effects, a few being sickness and feeling light-headed, but that doesn’t concern me. I’m used to feeling like that. The main benefit for me is that I’m covered and will not need to worry about it, and chances are my periods may become lighter or irregular or may disappear altogether.

  She pulls up my medical records and goes over everything thoroughly, checks my blood pressure, height, and weight. When she asks me the date of my last period, she gives me a pregnancy test stick to just to be sure I’m not pregnant before carrying on with it.

  I’ve never done a pregnancy test before, but she explains to me its procedure, common practice, not to panic, and how it works. I use the public toilet to pee on the stick, and then the doctor comes back for me to enter the room almost right away. I’m thankful as I’d hate to be sitting in the waiting room pondering over the fate of my future.

  Not that it would be a catastrophe, but I’m not ready at this period of time in my life, and while I’m here alone without Lucca is not how I imagined taking a pregnancy test to discover said fate.

  My stomach is in turmoil, and I’m rubbing my hands nervously picking at my skin.

  Please be negative. Please be negative.

  My throat is d
ry and I do feel queasy, but that’s lack of body fuel and possibly dehydration. The doctor looks at the stick then turns around to her metal table and tears a white packet open.

  Why is she not talking? What is she going to do?

  She politely smiles. “Lexi, you’re not pregnant, so let’s prep to insert your implant. I need to use a local anaesthetic to numb the area. Are you okay with needles?”

  Relief?

  Yes.

  Needles?

  Not so much.

  “Yes.”

  Turning away, I hold my breath and let her carry on. I’m so relieved that I’m not pregnant, now is not the time. I can’t even get through one day without drama, never mind a baby to consider. I know that I love Lucca, and after the weekend with his nieces and nephews I know I’d like kids … babies. Just not now.

  I breathe and after the quick procedure she keeps me seated until she’s certain I’m not going to faint or be sick then checks my blood pressure again. Happy with her results, she advises me, I will need to use condoms for the next seven days for further protection.

  I smile respectfully, knowing that will never happen, so I’ll continue to take my pill for another week instead. Quickly she reminds me my next cervical smear test will be due in a few months.

  Already?

  They always get that in at the end of an appointment. Karma crushers.

  My phone rings. It’s Lucca, but I ignore it. I’ll call him when I’m outside.

  When I step out of her office, I need to hold onto the wall. I don’t want to draw attention to myself, so I slip into the toilet. I do feel rather faint. I splash my face and sit on the stool next to the sink. I need to eat, and the needle phobia has not helped that situation.

  Sitting with my head in my hands has helped. Once I’m steady, I head back to the limo, slowly bearing weight on my better ankle, thankful that there has been no fainting today.

  I slip in the back. “I’m sorry, Marco. It took longer than I thought.”

  “No worries, Lexi. Lucca is on the line and he wants to speak to you.”

  Persistent bloody pest!

  Marco passes over his phone.

  “What happened in the clinic?” No hello, hi, or hey, baby. He sounds abrupt.

  I’m not sure I want to divulge personal information in the presence of Marco or wait until later.

  “Everything is fine. Can I call you later?”

  “Pass the phone to Marco.”

  Insufferable.

  I give Marco the phone.

  He nods then hands it back as he presses a button. A privacy screen rolls up and completely separates us. He won’t witness me rolling my eyes then. Is this for real?

  Ridiculous.

  “He cannot hear you unless you press the buzzer for the intercom, and he cannot see you either, so tell me what happened. I want to know because you are mine and I hate not being at these things with you. It crushes me.” He sounds flustered and he’s breathing awfully quickly. I imagine him raking his hands through his hair or pinching his brow.

  I remember Lucca telling me how he missed the ultrasound when Fran was expecting his baby, the day Fran was in a tragic car accident which killed her father and their unborn child. It’s understandable he is concerned and protective about these things and doesn’t want to be shut out, especially when it involves him.

  “She made me take a pregnancy test.”

  “Fuck, Doc, and I was not there.” This is not going as well as I’d hoped. He sounds hurt, as if he has let me down, his voice is broken. I’m silent, other than my breathe exhaling on a soft sigh.

  “Baby, are you …?” He sounds more upbeat and optimistic. I look at the small square dressing on the inside of my arm.

  Ironic.

  He’s hopeful. I wasn’t.

  After our chat in Tuscany and our recent discussions, I know he wants this badly for us, soon apparently.

  “I’m not pregnant, but I did get an implant in my arm. I can get it out anytime for when we start family planning.”

  “Oh.”

  “What do you mean oh?” I snap. I was expecting some support.

  “Nothing, it is fine. How did they get an implant in your arm?” He sounds pissed off now.

  “They gave me anaesthetic, numbed it, and made a small incision in my skin and inserted it.” I thought that would be pretty obvious but maybe not to a man.

  “Lexi, do not tell me anymore. I cannot handle it.” Why is he acting so irrational?

  “Handle what? You’re freaking me out here and sound absurd.” I begin to raise my voice. He can’t wrap me cotton wool all the time. This is life, whether he likes it or not. I am upset and agitated from tiredness and hunger, and Lucca is getting the brunt of it.

  “They cut your fucking skin? Why would you get that done after all the fears and phobia you have regarding your skin?” He shouts. Either he thinks it’s bigger a deal than it was, or he generally is squeamish and the thought disturbs him. I know it troubles him looking at the small scar on my wrist, but that’s more through guilt rather than the concept of the procedure.

  I’m exasperated, but there’s no reasoning with him. I need to learn to keep quiet if he is going to freak out if a feather or snow flake or petal bloody lands on my skin. Heaven forbid.

  “Lucca, it’s a method of contraception, a very reliable one, and they insert these in thousands of women every day. It’s a nick in my skin. A tiny little nick.” Slowly and calmly, I try to make him see reason, as if I’m talking to an unreasonable child.

  “What is wrong with your pill?”

  “Nothing, but it’s not reliable enough with my track record of being sick and dizzy episodes.” I need to win this battle and quickly, as he’s giving me a headache. “Lucca, this means no more condoms, ever …”

  “Well, why did you not say so?” He sounds sarcastic but I don’t think that’s how he meant it to sound.

  Insufferable.

  “I am serious now. When I tell you I want you to get it out, I will be there with you, but when I want it out, baby, it is coming out.” It’s his turn to sound slow and calm trying to convince me.

  How dare he?

  What the fuck is it with his obsession to have a baby? And this controlling is not on. I will not stand for it.

  “Lucca, it’s my body, I will get it out when I’m good and ready. Don’t you dare try and control me. I’ve had a lifetime of it already. It’s my decision to make, not bloody yours.” I’m crass and don’t care how tactless I sound. I’m so angry with him and ready to explode. I like his protectiveness, and I like his possessiveness to a certain extent. It reminds me I’m his, and he’s mine but this level of controlling is not fucking on.

  Rage.

  Fire.

  Burn.

  I’m flustered now. I need to put my window down I’m feeling so hot. He is lost for words. For once.

  “God, I am so sorry. I did not mean that the way it sounded. I just mean … I hope it is not forever. You already said you would try as soon as we are married. I panicked because at the weekend you expressed having a family is something you would like for us. And it made me so fucking happy, you were coming around to the idea. Then you choose to have something long term like this thing in your arm without mentioning it,” he whispers.

  “I … I do not want to control you, or upset you. I am sorry, Doc. I am sorry for the way that came across. I just love you and want to spend the rest of my life with you and family is a big part of that for me, for us.” He sounds sincere but I’m so mad at him still. I worry my fingers in front of my mouth in fast, quick, agitated movements because I’m irritated.

  “Yes, and I agree, but not until I’m ready, so stop pressuring me. God, you sound worse than my mum right now, if that’s possible. Or worse, my granny. If you keep going on about it, I’ll never get the bloody thing out,” I yell.

  I could cut through the air with a sharp edge right now. He doesn’t know what to say. I’ve shocked him and he’s speec
hless that he’s hurt me or angry with my yelling. I know he’s thinking of apologising because I can hear him suck in a huge breath, as if he’s gasping and preparing himself for a long speech. I don’t want to hear it. Then he exhales the breath he’s been holding onto.

  I’m aware I’m snarky and irate with the lack of food today and my exercise exertion, but he’s seriously pissing me off.

  “Lucca, I need to go. I’m visiting Mr. Carlin, so I’ll call you later.”

  “Okay.”

  I was expecting an apology of sorts, but I don’t receive it. I’ve had enough now.

  Blazing anger heats my body. Inferno.

  “Okay,” I bluntly reply. No goodbyes.

  Cutting the line dead, I press the buzzer and ask Marco to lower the screen and hand the phone back to him.

  I’m not in the mood for any of Lucca’s lovey-dovey nonsense or complete, possessive alpha male shit either.

  “Marco, can you take me to M&S food so I can pick something up, and then to Mr. Carlin’s please?”

  “No problem. You know, Lexi, it is not any of my business, but he really loves you. I have never seen him so in love or intense, and he is a different person around you. It is endearing to watch him flourish and enjoy his love for life again, and you give him hope for his future.”

  Why is everyone talking in bloody riddles today? His future? What about my future? And the present, hope for today? I slip back into the frame of mind I frequently used before meeting Lucca, that I should take each day as it comes, and if I get through it without falling apart, then I’m grateful for life, here, today in this moment.

  “Thank you, Marco, I appreciate it, I do. We’ll work it out. It’s just so new to me, I suppose. I really have never had so much—”

  Protection.

  Love.

  Passion.

  “Give him time and give him a chance. I have known him a long time. We grew up together, and his relationship with Francesca was more of an obligation, but with you it is as if his life depends on you. He adores you. He has had a challenging morning today, and he is not himself. He is stressed.” He looks in the rear-view mirror giving me his attention.