by SJ Molloy
So have I.
“Thank you, Marco. I do appreciate your words. I love him too, more than anything else. I’m also out of sorts today, and he’s being overly protective. You know, the funny thing is, I’ve always needed someone like Lucca to secure himself around me and protect me as much as I tried to deny it before, but yet here I am being suffocated.” I worry my fingers in front of my lips slowly and lazily this time in contemplation.
He nods his head in acknowledgement and continues driving. I wonder why Marco doesn’t have a girlfriend or wife. He’d make someone very happy, I’m sure.
I’m not comfortable enough to ask him, but maybe one day I will. I want to call Lucca, to reassure him I’m not mad at him and I forgive him. I lift my phone from my bag and scroll over his name. I think about my mum not having any choices, having to be silent and submissive, and I realise I don’t want to be subjected to similar misfortunes. I need to be in control of my life.
I throw my phone in my bag and look out the car window, feeling remorse about my tension with Lucca, but equally happy I have taken it upon myself to be decisive about my body and the family planning issue.
Chicken, pasta, basil, tomatoes, chili, and mayo—great comfort food. I devour every bit in the back of the limo. I couldn’t wait until we stopped, I was that hungry. I feel better for eating but hope it doesn’t later put me in a carb coma.
I bought Marco a salad and a sandwich and some double chocolate brownies for putting up with my PMS tension, he’s thrilled I think, but says he’ll have it when he stops driving.
When I arrive at Mr. Carlin’s, I invite Marco in as I don’t like the thought of him sitting outside too long. Mr. Carlin is in his usual chair doing the newspaper crossword, and the heating is on full blast as normal.
After the introductions, I storm into the kitchen to turn it off. He doesn’t make eye contact with me. Sheesh, he’s in a foul mood. He continues to grill Marco until he knows everything except his national insurance number.
I make them tea, check his fridge and freezer, and stock it with the niceties I purchased, feeling guilty that I haven’t been cooking. I bring his washing in limping on my better ankle and put another load on.
“Well, are you not going to speak to me?” I ask, finally joining them.
“Hmmm … what’s that? I think there is a stranger in the house, looking for my attention,” he grumbles. Rolling my eyes, I sit on his coffee table, crossing my arms.
“I’m sorry, it’s been a busy week, and I had to settle into the new house. I know you were well looked after with your home helpers, but it’s no excuse.”
“And so you should be, lassie. I’ve not seen you for a full week, and your grandmother is asking all sorts of questions on the phone. Elizabeth is not one to be ignored. And, I like the way you make my tea.” He dips his head, his spectacles dropping low on his broad nose, then points to his mug.
“I said I’m sorry. I’m here now, so stop being stroppy and tell me what my granny said.” I look at Marco and subtly roll my eyes. He forms a smile and has humour etched all over his face and tries to look impassive.
Mr. Carlin goes on to tell me about my bossy, temperamental firecracker of a grandmother. Although her heart is in the right place, she’s suffocating most of the time. If I don’t answer her calls, she tries Cameron, and if he ignores her, she tries Mr. Carlin.
“Okay, get up. I’m taking you to Lucca’s house to show you around. You can meet Rose and Peter and have some dinner with us. I’ll get Marco to drive you home,” I say, looking at Marco for approval. I feel guilty for neglecting him all week.
“Yes, of course, it is no problem.”
He picks up the newspaper and flips to the front page as he adjusts his glasses. “Well, I’m not fussed,” he mumbles cynically.
Putting on a fake smile, clenching my jaw, I ask, “Why ever not?”
“Hmmm … well, I like my home comforts and it’s inconvenient tonight.” He harrumphs and pings his suspenders. I’m dying to laugh.
“Have you someplace else you need to be?” I lift my eyebrows with my hand on my hip.
“No, but I’m old and can’t be bothered.”
Sighing, I give Marco a look of exasperation, exhaling and rolling my eyes. Mr. Carlin is sucking the life out me here. Being in the ornery mood I’m in today, I’m not accepting his petulant grumpiness.
“Fine, don’t come, but Peter will be disappointed as he enjoys a single malt dram and loves a game of chess. He was looking forward to the challenge. Marco, you ready to go?”
Mr. Carlin raises his bushy eyebrows and lifts his walking stick from the side of his chair, pointing it at the hallway. “Son, be a gent and lift that grey jacket for me,” he directs at Marco, who’s happy to oblige.
Satisfied he’s coming, I nip next door to my house and pick up my mail and briefly tell Hazel about my day so she doesn’t expect me at her classes this evening. She can’t believe me, her mouth has dropped to the floor when I tell her who helped me, and I wonder how many flies she has caught. I tell her I’ll give her the detailed version at the DBB, when she stays over this week.
After a quick assessment of the rubble, I warn her to get the house work done as it looks like an explosive mess. She humours me and tells me to relax, she’s doing it today. Distracting me from my nagging, she enlightens me that Rachel was over last night and left crying, that Cameron finally broke it off with her. I wonder why he never said anything about it today when he was over.
He seemed pretty emotionless to me. I never know with Cameron; he’s very good at hiding his feeling sometimes. Bloody mystery.
After all the formalities, the house and grounds tour and the million questions that come with it, I leave Mr. Carlin in the good hands of Peter on the pergola area outside the pool at the back of the house. Rose checks on the dinner, and I excuse myself to call Jess to make sure she’s still coming over.
“Oh, Lexi, there are parcels for you. They arrived when you were out. They’re in the store cupboard.” Peter says while straightening some ceramic pots on the patio area.
“Thank you, Peter.”
I find five large boxes covered in brown paper with traditional string wrapped around them and a little gift bag with a blue satin ribbon tied around the handle. Dragging them into the living room, I peel the brown paper to find rectangular boxes covered with ordinary white poster paper and Italian words scrolled all over it. Lucca has elaborated on my quirky idea of writing on the paper to use it as gift-wrap. It’s cute and very original. How did he manage this?
I’m touched.
Inside the gift bag, I find a card and a smaller box under blue tissue paper. Opening the card I discover it’s not a shop bought card, it’s expensive high quality thick cream card, on the front it says:
‘Soon to be Mrs. Caruso.’
‘Doc, since you do not treat yourself, I am ensuring that you will be treated always and forever. Open the small box last and wear them for me for when I get home. I will be able to think of nothing else except how beautiful you will look with these against your skin.
I fantasise about your naked body glistening in diamonds when you are wrapped up in my embrace.
Keep them safe. You told me you are mesmerised by my blue eyes, which are for you and only for you. I am mesmerised by you, all of you. When you wear these for me, and only for me, my blues will be gleaming in yours, joining your sparkle to mine.’
He is referring to the blue silk tie I asked him to wear for only me as it accentuates the bright crystal azure colour of his eyes.
It appears I won’t be wearing the sexy lingerie I bought for him after all.
‘Il colore blu è quello di fiducia, lealtà e onestà. Blu è un donatore non è un introduttore alla ricerca di tranquillità, pace e tranquillità. Blu è conservativa, prevedibile e sicura. Blu è idealista, affidabile e responsabile. Blu è il colore di spirito, il nostro spirito.’
(The colour blue is the one of trust, loyalty, and honesty
. Blue is a giver, not a taker searching for peace, calm, and tranquillity. Blue is conservative, predictable, and safe. Blue is idealistic. It is reliable and responsible. Blue is the colour of spirit - our Spirit.)
Blue is definitely our colour from his eyes, to the blue orchid and whatever surprise he has for me in here. He is the most thoughtful person I’ve ever met. I love his romanticism, and everything he does is from his heart. He makes me feel complete.
‘There are five other parcels—a gift of the day for every day we will be apart this week. Enjoy your gifts, Dolcezza, I hope you like them. I miss you, sweetheart, and I love you. Please keep the bed warm for me.
All my love,
Lucca xxx’
The first box I pick up has the words L’amore sparsely scribbled across the makeshift wrapping paper. Inside is a cobalt blue crepe dress with a matching bag and shoes, and a Caspian-blue chiffon strappy top with a black leather A-line miniskirt. Holding the dress up to my body, I’m once again blown away by Lucca’s impeccable taste and generosity.
The next box has the words Virilità, meaning virility. Opening the box, I gasp, peeling back the blue tissue paper to reveal an elegant, strapless marine blue chiffon full-length cocktail gown with a lace panel around the corset. The front has Swarovski crystals encrusted on the lace of the bodice. The internal corset has ribbon weaving across the back and is just simply stunning, very exquisite and unique.
It’s another beautiful gown for a special occasion and comes with a silver clutch and amazing killer high-heel shoes. I hold it to my chest and close my eyes. I can imagine wearing this on Lucca’s arm again, complementing his beautiful, bright blue eyes.
Then I think of poor Hazel trying to save for her wedding and here I am lavished in gifts costing a small fortune. Frowning, I place the dress in the box, and not because I don’t appreciate these wonderful things, I do. I just wish I could help Hazel more financially, but I don’t want to ask Lucca for any of his money. He’s earned it and it belongs to him.
The next box is scribbled with Sessualità, meaning sexuality. He is quoting me his interpretation of our flower, the blue orchid.
Inside has five expensive lingerie sets, all in various colours of blue. One set is very racy; it’s sky blue satin with black lace and a matching thong and garter. One is navy blue fine lace, and another is electric blue silk under black mesh with large motif flowers on the straps, very much like the orchids. Another in cornflower blue with a ribbon that ties at the bust and the matching panties tie at the side with a ribbon also.
Then there is an ice blue long satin nightgown and matching robe. The final piece is a short, sexy, blue chiffon baby-doll nightdress, which is completely transparent, and a matching thong. He did promise to buy me new underwear, as he’s been ripping them off me of recent. He must have picked every blue piece in stock.
This lot will only last him a week.
If I’m lucky.
The fourth box reveals the word Fertilità, translating as fertility. The irony isn’t lost on me after the eventful day and discussions with Lucca. Laughing, I lift out a new pair of blue denim jeans, a fitted, blue tank, a long, oversized, ecru wool cardigan, and a pair of skydiver blue Converse trainers.
This is by far the most suitable of gifts for me when I love to have my dress down comfy days. I try one Converse on and immediately fall in love with them. I’m sure I will get lots of wear from these.
The fifth box is of equal size with the last word Dolcezza scripted on the white poster paper; Lucca’s word for me meaning sweetness. Inside, there is a white candle in a glass jar and a blue card. Smelling the fresh linen scent of the candle, I look at the card.
‘The candle represents my light for you, our “Luminara.” I have arranged a treat for you and the girls on Wednesday night. Have them all come to the house for 6:00 p.m. for a night of pampering, spa treatments, and relaxation. All they will need is swimwear. I have taken care of everything else. I have arranged cover for Hazel’s classes at the club for that evening. Enjoy, baby.
Love,
Lucca xxx’
Squealing in delight, I can’t wait to tell the girls and have them over for a pamper night. He has absolutely outdone himself this time as he always does. All my previous premenstrual tension is dispersing, and I have new found love for his lovey-dovey sweetness.
I’m about to text the girls when I remember about the smaller gift in the gift bag. Completely overwhelmed, I wonder if this is what it must have felt like being a young child excited at Christmas time waiting on Santa.
Not being able to contain my curiosity, I open the box and stumble backwards having to hold onto the edge of the sofa, blinking in sheer disbelief. Diamond stud earrings again, but this time in a unique beautiful blue diamond colour matching my engagement ring with diamonds circling around the blue stone. They look very rare and collectable. I can’t quite comprehend such a treasure is in my hands, and that Lucca has gifted these to me.
Shaking, I lift them out their box and marvel, dumbfounded by their beauty. I take out my own diamond stud earrings and replace them immediately with the blue ones and look at them in the ornate, gilded mirror over the fireplace. My legs are quivering, and I feel tiny, fragile, and delicate. These stones could easily be Lucca’s crystal eyes staring back at me.
Neatly placing my original earrings in the box, I call Lucca. He answers on the second ring.
“Hey, I’ve just opened your gifts, and I don’t know what to say. I’m overwhelmed. Lucca, these blue diamonds are just the most precious thing I have ever seen. It’s unbelievable, but it’s far too much.” Tears are threatening to break and my voice is choking with his thoughtfulness, and I’m still plagued by guilt for my abominable mood earlier.
“I am glad you like them because they are yours and I want you to have them. Lexi, I am sorry about earlier. The last thing I want to do is control you. I hate when we fight. Will you forgive me?” He sounds anxious but at the same time relieved to hear from me.
“Of course, I already have. I’m the one who is sorry. I was just tired and ratty, but I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”
“No, baby, you have done nothing wrong. You were being honest and I was being unreasonable. I just want to protect you because I love you so much, but I got carried away. I fucking hate that you thought I would ever control you like that. You are my world now, my life, and I just want you to be happy and for us to fulfil our lives as best we can and live without having any regrets. I am so fucking sorry I hurt you.” His voice is broken.
Fingering the earrings in my ears, I am pining for him all over again. “I am happy. I have you, and that’s all I need right now. You don’t need to shower me with gifts. I love them, I do, but I love you more.” I know he genuinely does feel remorse about how we left the situation, but I feel as if I need to address the baby topic again to settle this. “You know, I’d rather we get married first before we talk babies.” I mention it like this so he knows I’m not opposed to the idea but I do need to settle this.
“Thank God you are still considering it, Doc. Yes, of course, whatever you want. I would never make you do anything you did not want to do and I respect you too much. I would never control you like that, baby. I just want you to know how much I would love that for us. I was worried you would be angry at me, and it would put you off.” His guard is down, and he sounds more relaxed.
I can’t stay mad at him. “No, I just don’t want to feel pressured into it by you and your entire family, can you understand that? This isn’t a small decision. It’s life changing and it needs to be when the time is right.”
“Yes, of course. I was an asshole earlier and should never have spoken to you like that. You tell me when you are ready. I will wait and respect your wishes because you are my light and I never want to abuse your trust or control you.” I feel so relieved we have had the chance to speak about this and clear the air.
He means it too. Although we rarely exchange heated words, we both seem to fi
nd a way to forgive and forget and make it work after explaining and reasoning.
“Thank you. I am so glad you understand and we sorted this out. Lucca, I do love the gifts, thank you. How did you manage this? I can’t get my head around all this. You must have super powers,” I say, staring at everything on the floor.
“Suzanne helped me. That woman needs a raise. I especially liked the lingerie and cannot wait to rip those off you.” His sexy rasp is back.
He’s unbelievable, but I agree. I’m excited about him doing that also, feeling a tingling of excitement in my core just thinking about it.
“How did you manage the writing on the paper?” I ask curiously because it’s definitely his writing.
“You inspired me with your note on the makeshift wrapping paper. I found the pen last night when I packed, but I did not want to tell you. I left early on purpose before my flight so I could go into the office and write on the poster paper and cards with the fountain pen, as I wanted to personalise it.
“How did you acquire the blue diamond earrings?” There’s no way Suzanne picked these, because they match my engagement ring.
“I brought them back from Florence. There are only five of this particular set in the world, and they are very valuable. I bought them the same time I got your engagement ring. After you mentioned the colour blue, I thought now was the time. I was going to wait, but being away from you is driving me crazy, and I wanted me to still be with you somehow.”
“I just don’t know what to say.” I stutter with amazement.
“Thank me with your lips when I get home. I cannot wait to see you wear the earrings. How is your ankle? Marco said you looked unwell when you came out the clinic?”
“It’s fine. I was just a little dizzy but was good as new after my lunch.” Said ankle is actually okay, not too bad at all until I put pressure on it or move it, but I’ll omit that little detail.