Fallon & Luca Read online

  Teagan doesn’t understand my reasoning because she hasn’t gotten to know Luca. And it’s frustrating for me to try to get my point across, so I just tell her we’re fine, yet I’m stuck in a cycle I don’t know how to break. I’ve put up a wall of protection, and Luca can’t reach me anymore. But the entire situation is about to blow up because my anxiety is reaching a breaking point and we’ve both been progressively distant.

  ***

  I arrive home late from work and find Luca pacing around my living room. He hurriedly slips an older style of phone that’s not the smartphone he normally uses into his pocket.

  He has another phone?

  As I see it, I could react in several ways. One – I can ask him directly about the phone, which I’m quite positive he’ll lie about now because of the way he inconspicuously hid it in his pocket. Two – I can be hysterical and demand an explanation, which I won’t get. Three – I can wait until I get my chance to check the phone myself. I choose option three.

  Luca strides determinedly toward me as I enter my apartment, studying me intently. “Where have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you for hours.” Annoyance resonates through his entire manner.

  Instead of replying, I remove my sandals first. All I want is to unwind and jump into the shower after working in the sweltering heat of this August day in an office where the air-conditioning is broken. We’re hosting the yearly orphan charity event in two days, this Friday, and I told Luca that I’d be busy this entire week with last-minute preparations and writing the speeches for my boss, Alex.

  “Fallon!” Luca crowds me.

  “I told you I’d be busy this week. I didn’t have time to answer my phone,” I say in a bothered tone.

  His hair is in disarray, falling over his forehead. He’s obviously infuriated.

  Ominously, he edges even closer. “I asked you to always answer. I need you to abide by that request. Especially now!” he yells, throwing his hand into the air. His usual self-control wavers.

  I don’t let him intimidate me. “What the hell are you talking about? Abide?” I spit the word with malice. “Lose the attitude.”

  His breathing is labored from trying to restrain his emotions. As he clenches his hands, his strained biceps ripple through his dress shirt in contained rage.

  I hold up my palms in surrender. “Let’s calm down here.”

  “Are you leaving tonight or staying in?” he demands to know instead.

  It takes me a moment to grasp his sudden change of subject. “Um...I’m staying in.”

  To my surprise, Luca heads toward the door, ignoring me as he passes.

  “We’re just going to leave everything unresolved again, Luca? We always continue on and never talk about this. If you walk out on me now, don’t bother coming back.” The threat I don’t mean escapes my lips without my thinking clearly, but I’m tired and, frankly, also a little scared.

  “I need to leave now so that I can calm down. I don’t want to say anything I’ll regret. I’ll be back later.” Luca opens the door and slips out, leaving me alone with more uncertainty.

  He has another phone? And why was he so upset about not reaching me? Every question raises more doubt in my mind, and I keep standing in the exact same spot while my brain tries to comprehend what’s happening to us.

  Confounded, I go to my bedroom and climb into bed, foregoing the shower. I can’t believe Luca would betray me, but that scenario is becoming more plausible. I don’t understand how I can sense that his love for me is so deep, yet we’re still drifting apart. Unless I’m feeling things that are already long gone?

  ***

  Luca didn’t come back to my apartment last night. My apartment where we’ve stayed on the weekends and that I’ve thought of as our home for six months, so much so that everything here reminds me of him. Still, I refrain from calling him. He left to calm down, so maybe he doesn’t want me to contact him? Maybe it’s over? Feeling miserable, I get dressed.

  As usual, I go to the coffee shop to buy my Earl Grey tea before taking the fifteen-minute walk to work and am reliving the past several weeks over and over in my head while standing in line, wondering if I’ve missed something or if I’ve been ignoring signs.

  “Excuse me...Excuse me.”

  I’m jarred from my thoughts by a customer behind me.

  “I’m sorry,” I comment, distracted, and move forward to order my tea while fumbling for my wallet in my purse, swallowing back a wide array of emotions.

  The man behind me gently touches my elbow. “Is everything okay?”

  I look at him but can’t find any words.

  Before I can get out my money, he orders a coffee and pays for both of us. Taking our drinks, I go with him to his table, but I don’t join him as he sinks into his seat.

  “I’m sorry. I’m having a bad morning. Let me pay you back.”

  “Don’t worry about it. It’s on me. Please feel free to sit if you want,” he mentions kindly.

  I hesitate at first, then decide I should compose myself before heading to work, so I accept his offer.

  But, of course, before I even get the chance to sit down, the door is thrown open, and Luca – with the same furious eyes as yesterday – advances in, stalking toward me.

  He leans in close to my ear. “I need to talk to you.”

  Because of the uncompromising lines of his hard profile and my need to avoid a scene, I agree. “Thank you. I’ll see you around,” I tell the man as I leave the table.

  Luca shoots him a displeased look.

  “It was my pleasure.” He doesn’t back down under Luca’s glare.

  I smile timidly at the guy when Luca places his hand at the small of my back and guides me outside.

  I spin around as soon as I step over the threshold. “Happy now that you’ve marked your territory?” I say with bite.

  His jaw clenches. “No. Trust me, that was me being civil.”

  Suddenly, a disturbing realization crosses my mind. “Were you following me?” Luca knows I stop for tea before going to work, but this morning, I’m almost an hour behind on my regular morning routine.

  “Yes,” he confesses without any remorse.

  “What?” I refuse to cry and suppress my hurt and amazement at his confession. “You said you would come back last night, and you didn’t. I’m going to work because I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

  “Fallon.” Luca’s voice softens, and he tries to palm my cheek, but I avoid his touch by taking a few steady steps back. He rushes forward and almost stumbles over a steel chair when he reaches for me, his tightly leashed self-control breaking more and more.

  “No. Do not follow me!” I march away before I change my mind, leaving him behind.

  ***

  Still aggravated, I arrive at work. Our floor has five offices, but most of us sit together in the open space. When in need of privacy, every employee is allowed to occupy one of the offices, and I’m relieved that one of them is available so that I can be alone. It’s a simple, understated room, white and grey walls with a black tiled floor.

  Throwing my bag onto one of the two chairs on the other side of the desk, I power up my laptop and take my seat on the leather desk chair. I swivel around to gaze outside. With my hands clasped together in my lap, I peer down to see hundreds of people, all walking in the different directions that life takes them. Masses of people who each have their own individual story. Some might be happy; some might be sad; some might be lonely.

  Among all those people, there’s one person standing immobile, looking straight at me. I need to know what his story is. Everyone steps around Luca, his green eyes that would always capture my attention in a room filled with thousands calling to me, pulling me to him. And the tiny hairs on my arms rise as Luca’s stare is locked on me, his impeccable suit in contrast with his anguished gaze. Neither of us relents, both of us observing, thinking, and anticipating what to do now?

  However, I’m forced to concentrate on work when my boss, Alex,
struts into the office without knocking; I see his reflection in the window, so I swing back around.

  “Good morning, Fallon. Tell me the speeches are done?” He sits in the vacant chair across from me.

  I open the document in Word and print the two speeches I’ve prepared for tomorrow evening. Handing them to him, I emphasize, “Yes, they’re finished.”

  “Anything else you need to tell me?” he asks in a mocking tone.

  “No,” I retort curtly.

  Alex’s lips turn up into a derisive smile. “We’ll talk later.”

  After Alex walks out, I immediately turn back to the window, but Luca is gone. And when my laptop notifies me of incoming messages, I welcome the distraction and focus solely on putting the finishing touches on all the written communication for tomorrow. Then I check the menu items with all the accompanying texts I wrote and send the final menu to the printer.

  The day proceeds in a blur of last-minute arrangements in need of some extra attention. Tomorrow, we’ll all be at the venue the entire day. I turn off my laptop at eight p.m. and see that I’ve several missed calls from Luca and texts from my parents and Teagan.

  During my walk home, I call my parents and my best friend. My parents, as always, encourage me to enjoy the event after my months of hard work, and Teagan needs reassurance that Luca and I aren’t fighting. I lie and tell her we’re fine because I don’t want her to worry on the other side of the ocean.

  Once I’m home, fatigued, I remove my dress and heels in the living room before I drop face down on the couch and fall asleep without eating dinner.

  Later that night, I wake, still lying on my stomach, when I hear the door creaking. I turn my head to see Luca standing in front of me, his thick, dark hair combed back. His jaw, covered in a neatly-trimmed beard, never failing to enthrall me. This stunning man who chose to love me – the only man I’ve ever loved – is slipping away from me. Apparently, it was all too good to be true.

  He crouches by the sofa, bringing us face-to-face, and tenderly tucks my hair behind my ear, coiling his fingers in the strands.

  Tears are burning to explode, but I hold them in. Despondency is mirrored in our eyes.

  “Am I losing you?” he whispers sadly while ghosting his fingertips down my spine.

  As much as I want to give him a hopeful denial, I can’t. He is losing me, and I’m losing him. Only, I’m clearly the one being left in the dark as to what exactly is going on.

  “I don’t know. What’s happening to us? I’m lost,” I say.

  Luca sits on the couch and motions for me to straddle him, so I climb onto his lap and he cradles my neck in both hands, dragging me close. Guilt sparkles in his eyes, spinning with pain and regret in his dejected appearance.

  Even though I’ve grown to love him, I need to take care of myself, so I have to end this carefully. I lean forward against his chest and wind my arms around his waist because the memories we’ve created together aren’t easily forgotten. Luca embraces me firmly, afraid I might pull away.

  “I don’t know where we go from here,” I admit in a muffled voice. The familiarity of his citrus cologne used to comfort me; now it saddens me.

  “Let me just hold you, please, Fallon. I just need to hold you.” He kisses the top of my head and rises, so I circle my legs around his hips as he carries me to the bedroom.

  There, he lays me down on my back before undressing, and then he slips in beside me under the covers, resting his head on my chest and looping his arm around my middle. I weave my fingers through his hair as I stare at the ceiling and realize that I’ve finally accepted that voice in my head telling me that his evasiveness is fueled by something far greater than I can fathom.

  CHAPTER 24

  Fallon

  The next morning and afternoon are hectic. We’re set up at the venue, a restaurant in a hotel, and our guests will arrive at six. The event itinerary is simple. We start with a seven-course dinner that we sold per-plate, then an independent filmmaker will present a short documentary he filmed about the increasing numbers of orphans worldwide, and finally, several vacations will be auctioned. The chef and the artists all volunteered, and we paid half price for the venue and the vacations. Apart from the proceeds we’ll make from the tickets and vacations, our guests can donate money the entire night.

  I return home at four p.m. to shower and change into my red, silk floor-length dress with an open back and a thigh-high split. My hair is in a tight bun, secured high on top of my head. I’m putting my red lipstick into my gold clutch when I hear my front door unlock. I check the time on my phone: five fifteen.

  Luca strolls into my bedroom and halts to gawk appreciatively at me. Standing behind me, he strokes the back of his forefinger down the exposed skin on my back. “Sei bellissima, dolcezza.” You’re stunning, sweetheart.

  “Are you still coming with me?” I thought – with all the struggles of the last few weeks – he wasn’t joining me at the event. My plan for us to spend more time apart is backfiring on me. The moment I try to create a distance, he ignores it and suddenly has time for me again. Maybe he’s onto me?

  But Luca simply kicks off his shoes and unbuttons his shirt as he answers, “Of course. I want to be there with you.”

  Since I don’t have time to think about this now, I urge, “Hurry then. Shower.”

  “I’m going.” He removes his pants in the bedroom and heads into the bathroom to shower.

  I evaluate my dress in the mirror, but my attention wanders to Luca’s slacks lying in a heap on the floor. Should I check them? This is my opportunity. The bathroom door is slightly ajar, fragrant steam rising from the small opening. I hurriedly kneel and search his pockets. First comes out his smartphone and then another phone. I knew it!

  Throwing his pants back onto the floor, I take the extra phone and run through the hall and into the living room. It’s the one I saw him slipping into his pocket the night he was furious when he couldn’t reach me and seems to be disposable. It’s a simplistic black cellphone with press buttons and a tiny display, and it’s definitely an old model; it doesn’t even have a color screen.

  I tread past the couch to the windows and glance warily back at the hall, even though I can still hear the shower running. With sweaty palms, I hurriedly examine the phone for any useful information, clicking different buttons but unable to find any contacts stored in it or any messages. But after entering another menu, I discover the messages. They are all from unknown numbers – no names – because none are stored in the phone. One message reads button. I frown in confusion while checking the next one, but I only have time to read part of it – make a marriage – before a poised voice interrupts, “What are you doing?”

  Shocked, I whirl around to Luca, who’s at the opposite end of the sofa with a towel wrapped low around his hips and his damp hair sexily disheveled from towel drying. I hate that I have to fight to avoid being lured by his charm. His gaze drifts to the phone in my hand, and his eyes snap back up to mine while he takes a defensive stance, bracing himself for my reaction.

  An array of feelings including hurt, sorrow, betrayal, and curiosity sting me. In a rush, I try to decide what reaction I want him to see. My curiosity and determination to figure out what exactly has been happening the last couple of weeks wins. I need him to open up to me. How do I handle this?

  I throw the phone at his chest, and he catches it clumsily when it hits him. “You’re married? Married?!” I yell.

  Luca’s completely stunned. “Fallon, what did you read?” He sounds shaken, but it’s well hidden as he peeks at the phone and then flings it onto the couch.

  “Does it matter? I knew...I knew you were lying to me. I’ve been suspicious for a while.” I fist my hands in anger.

  “What are you talking about?” His lips thin into a straight line.

  “Don’t you dare deny it! I read a message about marriage.” My impatient voice rings out as I bring my clamped fist to my mouth and replay the last few weeks in fast forward
through my mind.

  Luca cautiously approaches me and denies, “Fallon, it’s not what you think. There’s no one else.”

  “Why do you have another phone? Why do you go on so many business trips?” I evade his grasp when he reaches for me, not wanting to be near him, but he continues to try to touch me, until the hurt stemming from my shaking body stops him in his tracks. By now, my back is pressed against the window.

  Luca stands in my previous place at the sofa, dragging his hand through his hair. Sighing heavily, he pleads, “You’re wrong. I’m not married—”

  The buzzer rings, signaling that the cab is waiting downstairs to take me to the venue. I carefully avoid Luca and walk past the coffee table to tell the cab driver I’ll be down in a minute. All I want is to stay home, yet that’s the last thing I want. Despite our argument, I move toward the bedroom to fix my lipstick.

  Luca follows me. “I’ll wait here for you.” he comments tiredly, seating himself on the edge of the bed as I redo my lips.

  “Don’t bother.” I store my phone in my clutch and flee the room.

  My casual response jolts him, and Luca runs up to me, still in his towel. “Fallon, we need to talk.” His left arm shoots out against the wall, blocking my way to the front door.

  “Not now,” I hiss.

  “I’ll wait for you here then,” he repeats resolutely.

  “No,” I counter. “You leave my house.”

  Exasperation gleams in his expression. It was his darkening eyes that warned me I should guard my heart from this man. “Fallon, you have to give me a chance to explain. I’ll come tomorrow so—”