Blue Roses(35)

“Good plan!”

I lean into the car to adjust the seat. I push it all the way back to make room for his long legs plus the cast.

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 23





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.