Real Fake Love (Copper Valley Fireballs #2)(76)

He steps back far enough that I can slam the door shut and flip the lock.

And now I’m in a fancy marble powder room, alone, just me and my very unhappy belly and my hot face and my tingling tongue, and I probably shouldn’t be alone, and Luca clearly agrees, based on the way he’s banging on the door.

He’s not coming in here.

Period.

But I know he’s worried so after I get myself situated with the toilet, I pull out my phone and call him.

“Henri? I’m coming in.”

“Not if I ’an ’ill talk,” I shriek. “Ooo ’an’t ’ee me now!”

My voice echoes through the bathroom, and I cringe, but I hold firm.

“You need a doctor.” Luca’s voice is calm but determined.

I shake my head. “Benadryl,” I manage to make my tongue say.

I don’t think I’ll go into anaphylactic shock.

Probably.

Never have before.

“Doctor,” Luca repeats.

“Ben-a-dill fust.”

“Christ on a cannoli,” he mutters.

I should care that he’s worried. I want to, but the simple truth is that he shouldn’t have to be saddled with me tonight.

I’d rather have Marisol or Tillie Jean or Mackenzie or Tanesha—who’s home with the baby—in here instead.

Correction.

I’d rather have Luca want to be in here with me because he wants me and he doesn’t care about the embarrassing things my body is about to do.

But this is all fake.

All pretend.

And so, I’d rather have my girlfriends.





29





Luca



My heart is going to pound out of my chest if Henri doesn’t open this door right the fuck now.

I bang again as I yell into the phone like that’ll help her hear me. “Henri. I have Benadryl. Let me in.”

“Side it unna da doe.”

I growl at the phone. “I’m not sliding it under the door.”

“I fye, Wuca.”

“You are not fine.”

She huffs.

I huff.

I also breathe easier. If she couldn’t huff, she couldn’t breathe, but she can huff, which means she can breathe.

“Henri, I’m not fine until I see you,” I hiss into the phone.

I jerk my head in greeting at someone who mutters my name as they pass me in the hallway.

“Ya ya ya,” Henri says, and that does it.

I’m breaking down this door.

“Nooooo,” she moans.

“Henri—”

“Oh my god, scoot. Scoot.” Mackenzie shoves me aside. “Henri? It’s me. I’m coming in, and I haven’t told you about that time that my dad accidentally tried pot thanks to the same woman who accidentally fed it to Brooks too, but trust me when I say, I’ve seen it all, and you’re about to be in very good hands.”

I try to butt my way back in, and Brooks gets in my face and growls.

I get right back in his and point at the door. “That’s my girlfriend.”

He lifts a brow.

A single, go on, tell your story brow, and my skin flushes so hot ice would sizzle right off me.

“I’ve got her, Luca,” Mackenzie says.

She steals the Benadryl, twists the knob, and within two seconds, she’s disappeared into the bathroom.

Henri let her in, when she won’t let me.

“She seriously can’t catch a break, can she?” Brooks mutters.

He’s right.

She’s a walking disaster.

And I love her.

I stumble backwards against the wall as the thought races through my head.

It can’t be right, except while I have no intention of ever falling in love—yes, I hear myself—it’s Henri.

How could a person get to know her and not love her on some level?

I do have a heart.

It might not get much use, and this love might not be fairy tale love, but I have one, and I care about her.

Brooks grins. “Ah, I know that look. You need a drink, man?”

I scowl at him, because the only thing keeping him from falling in love was a stupid superstition.

What’s keeping me from falling in fairy tale love?

Baggage.

So much damn baggage.

I lift the phone to my ear again, and dammit.

She hung up on me.

I dial her phone again. I’m not going to stand here and yell through the door if I don’t have to.

“Hey, Luca,” Mackenzie says cheerfully on the other end. “Henri’s okay. She’s breathing. I’ve got her.”

“I need to talk to her.”

“Can you give the Benadryl a bit to work?”

I hear a whimper in the background, and my heart stops.

Dead stops.

This is worse than getting home to find her in tears. It’s worse than that look on her face every time she thinks I’m not looking after she tries so hard to get Nonna to like her, or when she drifts off on her ramblings with that right, he doesn’t like me look on her face.

Also, Nonna’s dead to me right now too for making Henri feel like shit, and I swear, if she did it on purpose to make me like Henri, I don’t care how many Eyes she flings at me, she’s waking up with raw cod in her bed next time she comes to visit.