Take Your Time (Boston Love #4)(66)
Shelby coughs impatiently at my back, as if to say get a move on!
But I can’t. I’m stuck. Swamped by sudden grief.
Luca appears, a look of concern on his face as he stares down at me. I know my eyes are wild — I can only imagine the emotions he reads in their depths. Whatever he sees, it’s enough to make his jaw clench tightly.
“Not here,” he says lowly, reaching down and twining his fingers with mine. And I can’t explain it, but as soon as he touches me some of the panic ebbs, until I can breathe again.
With a small nod of approval, he squeezes my hand, his grip warm and strong, and starts leading me down the stairs. I’m so lost in my own thoughts, I don’t realize we’ve separated from the rest of the group until several moments later, when Luca sits me down on a low bench between two shallow tanks. A hanging sign proclaims:
STINGRAY TOUCH TANK! Please keep your hands flat.
We sit on the child-sized bench with our shoulders pressed together, watching the eerie, translucent creatures glide gracefully though the mangroves, for once unbothered by a crowd of kids sticking their stubby fingers into the water. I focus on the rhythm of Luca’s chest moving steadily in and out, matching my breaths to his. After a while, my throat clears and my heart stops pounding like a cardiac arrest patient.
“You okay?” Luca’s voice is soft.
I glance over at him, straight into his eyes, and see so much concern there, my pulse stutters again. “I will be.”
“You wanna talk about it?”
I blow out a breath and drop my head into my hands, feeling weak and lost and more fragile than I’ve allowed myself to be in years. Luca’s hand hovers for a second, then lands on my back. He rubs my shoulders in soothing strokes, until I relax beneath his touch.
“Just breathe, babe. In and out.” His fingers flex against my skin. “Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it. Promise.”
I turn my head to look at him and I’m horrified to find there are tears gathered in the corners of my eyes. He spots them and flinches, like I’ve struck him.
“No fixing this, I’m afraid,” I whisper brokenly.
He doesn’t say it aloud; his eyes do the talking for him.
You can tell me. I’m here for you. I’ll hold you until it passes.
I’m too close to him. I can’t breathe with him in my space, pressed up against me, stroking my back and being so alarmingly kind. I need some room, if I’m going to talk about this.
He must sense that, because he doesn’t move a muscle as I rise to my feet and start pacing in front of the bench, breaths puffing out in time with my footsteps. My high heels click against the cold cement floor for several long seconds as I attempt to wrangle my scattered thoughts into a cohesive sentence. Luca waits, watching me carefully. He knows me well enough to recognize that I won’t speak until I’m ready, that pushing me to talk will only force my guard back up.
“It’s stupid,” I say finally, clearing my throat. “I shouldn’t be this upset. I thought I had a handle on it. I’m just happy it happened now, instead of tomorrow. If I ruined Phoebe’s wedding, it would be unforgivable.”
“Phoebe loves you. She’d forgive you for pretty much anything, Delilah.”
“Maybe.” I shake my head, still pacing. “But I’d never forgive myself. It’s the most important day of her whole life. I’m supposed to be happy for her. Celebrating with her. And instead, I’m down here in the throes of a panic attack. Because weddings…”
Shaking my shoulders, I force myself to stop pacing. I stand stock still, clenching my fists so tight my fingernails cut into my palms, and force myself to say the words I’ve spent so many years avoiding.
“Duncan isn’t my only sibling.” I glance up at Luca, breathing hard. “Did you know that?”
He shakes his head.
Of course not. I never talk about her.
“Actually, I guess it’s more accurate to say… he wasn’t my only sibling. I had a sister until I was fifteen. Her name was Mimi.” I steel myself against it, but the words still hit me like a punch to the stomach as they pass my lips, cracking with grief. “She died.”
Luca’s eyes soften. “Oh, Delilah. I’m sorry.”
“It was a long time ago.”
He nods. “I’m still sorry.”
My bottom lip starts to tremble. “I’m only telling you this because when she— when it happened—” I suck in a breath. “She’d just gotten married. They were driving to the airport for their Honeymoon and there was an accident. A drunk driver on his way to a summer kegger blew through a red light and slammed into their limo. Her husband, Charlie, died at the scene. Painless. Instant. But Mimi made it to the hospital.” My lips twist. “She was always a fighter — she fought for good grades and for the student council presidency and for Charlie, who our parents didn’t approve of, because his family wasn’t from money. She fought for me, whenever I needed someone in my corner; she even fought for Duncan, who’s always been a bit of a mess. And she never stopped fighting, not even at the end. But this was one battle she couldn’t win. The damage was—” I break off. My throat aches with unshed tears. “She was in a coma for two weeks, before my parents made the decision to let her go. Just like that… her happy ending, cut short at twenty-two.”