On Monday she was only half listening to Yvonne recounting her weekend’s activities as they unpacked boxes when Luca’s name brought her up with a jolt.
‘Sorry, what did you say?’
‘I said I almost felt sorry for Luca, with that cow Aisling crawling all over him. I don’t know if you remember her – she was at Ivan’s bar that night.’
‘She can do the splits,’ Claire said, feeling queasy.
Yvonne laughed. ‘Fancy you remembering that! Anyway, she’s been trying to get her claws into Luca for ages, and I think she senses his weakness now and she’s closing in for the kill.’
‘Weakness? What weakness?’
Yvonne shrugged. ‘I don’t know exactly, but there’s something wrong with Luca. He’s off his game. He’s not his usual cocky self.’ She sighed. ‘I know I shouldn’t feel sorry for him – that boy’s brought it all on himself – but I can’t help it. He doesn’t deserve Aisling Wilson.’
‘So, did he –’ Claire gulped ‘– did he go off with her?’
‘No.’ Yvonne laughed. ‘He went home on his own to paint and sulk, so he lives to fight another day. You should have seen Aisling’s face …’
Claire spent the rest of the day trying to come up with an excuse to call over to Luca’s after work. She knew she shouldn’t need an excuse – they were supposed to be friends, and he hadn’t given her any indication that he had changed his mind about that – but, nevertheless, she thought it would seem more casual if she had a reason for calling. Unfortunately he hadn’t left any of his stuff in her car after their trip to Brittas – she had done a thorough search. There wasn’t even anything she could pretend she thought was his. If only she could offer him another five hundred for an advanced course of lessons, she thought desperately.
Finally she came up with something. It was spurious at best, but it would have to do. That evening, she made her way to his place. She didn’t call in advance, not wanting to give him the chance to put her off.
When she got to his building, the door was open and two pale blonde girls were sunning themselves on the steps. They said hi to Claire as she passed. Her heart was hammering as she climbed the stairs. Maybe she should have rung the bell, even though the front door was open. Luca might not even be in. And what if he wasn’t alone? Maybe Aisling Wilson would be there, doing the splits – on his face. This was probably a really bad idea …
She tried to steady her nerves as she knocked on his door.
‘Claire! Hi.’ He looked surprised to see her, but she couldn’t tell if he was pleased or not as he stood blinking at her in the doorway.
‘Hi. Um … can I come in?’
‘Yeah,’ he said. He stepped back, holding the door.
She was relieved that he seemed to be alone.
‘It’s nice to see you.’ He smiled. ‘Drink?’
‘Yes, please.’
‘So, what brings you round?’ he asked, as he handed her a glass of red wine. He waved her to the sofa and she sat. She took a sip of wine, feeling almost as nervous as the first time she had come here.
‘Um … well, I was thinking about …’ She wasn’t sure how to start. ‘Remember I said I’d pose for you … you know, naked?’
‘Yeah,’ he said warily, eyes narrowed.
‘Well, I never did, and I thought I should arrange to … do that.’
‘Right.’ He looked at her quizzically, his expression torn between amusement and bewilderment.
‘So, um … when would be convenient for you?’
‘Look, I’m not going to hold you to that.’
‘A promise is a promise,’ she said.
‘Well, I’m letting you off the hook.’
‘Oh, okay.’ She felt deflated. That hadn’t got her very far! Now she needed to think of something else to say, so she could casually drop her news about Mark into the conversation. ‘What have you been up to?’
‘Just working mainly,’ he said, waving at the easel by the window.
She stood and walked over to look at the painting.
‘How about you?’ he asked, as he poured himself a drink.
‘Oh, just the usual – work and writing. And I’ve broken up with Mark,’ she blurted.
‘You have?’ He swung round to her.
‘Yeah. Well … called things off. Breaking up sounds a bit dramatic since it never really got started in the first place.’
‘Who broke it off?’
‘I did.’ She studied his expression, but she couldn’t tell what he was thinking.
‘Why?’
She shrugged. ‘I just didn’t feel that way about him. I realised I never would.’
He frowned. ‘I thought he was “the one”. Mr Right.’
‘What? Why would you think that?’
He sighed. ‘I saw your blog post,’ he admitted sheepishly. ‘I didn’t mean to read it, but your laptop was open the other morning and—’
‘Oh!’ she gasped. Oh, Christ, he’d read that the morning after they’d had sex. He probably thought she’d just written it. No wonder he’d been a bit off with her on the way home. ‘But that wasn’t about Mark. I mean, not really. You know my blog is a load of bullshit.’
He laughed. ‘That’s true. So you broke up with him on Sunday?’ he asked, and finally she could read his expression: he was happy.
‘Yes,’ she said, smiling back at him.
‘Does this mean—’
‘We can be fuck buddies now!’ she exclaimed.
Suddenly he became very still. ‘What?’ he whispered.
‘You and me, I mean. Not – not me and …’ She trailed off as his face was completely transformed. She was taken aback by how angry he looked.
‘Fuck buddies?’ he snarled. ‘You want me to be your fuck buddy?’
‘Well … yeah. I thought—’
‘Because that’s all I’m good for, right?’ He banged his glass down on the table. ‘Just a meaningless fuck!’
‘No, of course not! But—’
‘Just while you wait for the next Mr Right to come along, of course,’ he fumed. ‘And then what? I’m supposed to melt into the background? Stand by and watch the girl I love walk off into the sunset with—’
‘What?’ Her voice came out as a stunned whisper, barely audible. ‘The girl you …’
‘Love. To bits,’ he said, with a look of such helpless yearning Claire thought her heart might burst.
‘Oh.’ Tears stung the backs of her eyes.
‘Yeah. So I’ll pass on the whole fuck-buddy thing, if you don’t mind. Look, I think you should—’
She cut him short by launching herself at him so that she knocked the breath out of him and he was forced to catch her in his arms as she wrapped her legs around his waist.
‘Claire, get off me!’ he said irritably, trying to detach her, but she clung on tighter.
‘Oh, Luca! I love you too,’ she said, kissing his face. ‘So much.’
He became very still. ‘What?’ he breathed. He lifted her off him, planting her on the floor. ‘Say that again.’
‘I love you. To bits.’
‘You do?’ He looked at her wonderingly, and then his whole face lit up like he was having an epiphany.
‘I do.’ She reached up and touched the side of his face, his stubble rough against her fingers.
‘How come you’ve never said?’
‘Because I didn’t want to freak you out. I knew you didn’t want me to fall for you—’
‘What on earth gave you that idea?’ he said crossly.
‘Er … you did. You told me I wasn’t to get hung up on you, remember? It was your number-one rule.’
‘Oh, yeah.’ He laughed ruefully. ‘So I did. You’re not the only one who’s full of shit.’
‘Well, I broke your stupid rule anyway.’
‘Good. It was a stupid rule. I don’t know what I was thinking.’
‘Why didn’t you say something?’
‘Because you were with Mark. I thought he wa
s what you wanted. And then I almost told you that night in the caravan,’ he said. ‘But the next day I saw your blog …’
‘I didn’t write it that morning,’ she said. ‘I’d written it way before that and I was just looking at it because I needed to change it.’
‘Anyway, I thought Mark was ‘the One’. So I was trying to do the decent thing and walk away from the girl I love – even though it was killing me.’ He shrugged. ‘I was being all noble and stuff.’
She tilted her head to the side. ‘Well, you can do that, if you like. Or you could be the one who gets the girl. It’s up to you.’
‘I’ve never done the decent thing in my life,’ he said, pulling her into his arms. ‘Why start now?’
‘Mm, I’ve missed being here,’ Claire said later, as they lay entwined in Luca’s bed.
‘Seriously? In this shithole?’
‘No, not your flat – though I’ve kind of missed that too. Here,’ she said, pressing her naked body against his and nestling into the crook of his shoulder. ‘I’ve missed being here.’
Luca sighed contentedly, stroking her back. ‘Claire, can I ask you something?’
‘Yeah?’
‘Did you really come over here tonight to arrange to pose naked for me?’
‘Um … no,’ she admitted.
‘I thought it seemed a bit random.’
‘But I will,’ she said, drawing away from him. ‘A promise is a promise.’ She shook off the covers and stood on the bed, looking down at him. So,’ she said spreading her arms to encompass the room, ‘where do you want me?’
She didn’t squirm even a little bit as Luca’s eyes raked slowly over her body. Then he reached up and grabbed her wrist, yanking her back down beside him. ‘Here,’ he said, wrapping his arms around her. ‘I want you here.’
She nuzzled his chest, smiling as he bent to kiss her. ‘Here is good.’
Acknowledgements
Special thanks to:
My editor, Ciara Doorley, for her brilliant insights and ideas, and for making this book so much better; everyone at Hachette for all their hard work especially Joanna Smyth; and Hazel Orme for her eagle-eyed copy-editing.
My wonderful agent Ger Nichol for her boundless enthusiasm and encouragement.
My sisters Trish and Emer and my friend Anstey Spraggan who read the first draft, and were always gratifyingly impatient for the next instalment.
Property wiz Louise Clark for the house at Vico – the writing bolthole of my dreams.
The lovely and talented artist Gina McKenna Burns, for letting me follow her around and pick her brain.
All my family and friends who have helped me celebrate every moment – at least once. More often twice. Or three times.
All my writing, Twitter and Facebook friends; and all the book-bloggers who have been supportive of me and shared their enthusiasm for my books. You guys rock.
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