All I Believe (Firsts and Forever, #10)(75)
He grinned too and said, “Way, way more than once. It was by the fountain in Viladembursa, at the very end of your family vacation. You didn’t get his name.”
“Turns out, his name is Luca Caruso.”
Gianni’s eyes went wide. “That’s him? You’re shitting me!”
“I think fate brought us back together.”
“You totally don’t believe in stuff like that.”
“I didn’t before,” I said as I pushed open the door to Luca’s room.
*****
Luca was released from the hospital after three days. We relocated to a bungalow in one of the quieter parts of Tahiti while he kept recuperating. It was one of a dozen in a tranquil, turquoise bay, and was part of a fairly small high-end resort. Each bungalow was built over the water on its own private pier, and had a thatched roof and a little deck out back. Gianni and Zan moved into the one next door. The rest were empty. Andreo got a room in the pink, two story building a few hundred yards behind us, just above the beach. Since it was off-season, most days it felt like we had the resort to ourselves.
I didn’t get why Dante had sent us to rendezvous with my cousin and his boyfriend at first, but after a while it started to make sense. While all my time and attention was focused on Luca, Gianni and Zan were an amazing source of support. They ran errands, bought us groceries, prepared meals, and reminded me to eat and sleep (sometimes insisting).
Most importantly, they provided moral support. It felt good knowing they were there for me, to listen and give me advice and even just a hug when I needed it. Caring for Luca around the clock was exhausting, but I didn’t want to relinquish the job to anyone else. As long as I was the one looking after him, I knew he was getting everything he needed.
Gianni had been worried about the brothers and remained suspicious of Andreo, but he’d warmed up to Luca quickly. That made me happy. I loved watching them bonding, even if their favorite topic was funny Nico stories. My cousin had literally fallen on the floor laughing when Luca told him the story of how we met (the second time, with the dogs and bacon lube and the leather pants). Since Gianni and I had grown up together, he had plenty of anecdotes to share in return.
Meanwhile, Luca was healing well. The bullet had caught him in his upper chest, and torn through muscle but missed his internal organs. If there was such a thing as getting lucky when being shot, he had. He refused to admit he was hurting, but he kept taking the pain pills he’d been prescribed, which told me he was putting on a brave front for my sake.
He and I spent most of our time side-by-side on a pair of padded lounge chairs on the little deck at the back of the bungalow, in between the tropical showers that drifted over the island daily. We’d read or play chess with the rustic, carved wood chess set Zan had found us at a local artisan’s market. It started to feel like we were on vacation, especially given that gorgeous setting. But when Luca had to get up, either to stretch his legs or use the bathroom, and pain made the color drain from his face, I was reminded that we weren’t exactly on a romantic getaway.
There was another reason why that wasn’t the case. Even though we spent every waking moment together, Luca and I hadn’t talked. Which is to say, we chatted a lot about all kinds of light subjects, but neither of us brought up the bigger issues that hung over us. We hadn’t been in a good place right before he got shot. We’d hurt each other, him by not being honest with me about his father, and me by running and shutting him out. Then a bullet rendered all of that trivial, but just temporarily. Our problems hadn’t gone away. They’d just gotten set aside while Luca recuperated.
All of that was on my mind one Tuesday afternoon as I sat on the edge of the deck with my feet in the clear water, watching a school of tiny, black-and-white-striped fish dart around. It was so beautiful where we were, the crescent-shaped white sand beach lined with palm trees, the sky and sea vividly blue, postcard-perfect. But I was preoccupied by the talk Luca and I had been putting off, the need to clear the air weighing on me heavily.
I turned toward him to broach the subject when I saw Andreo cutting across the beach, headed for our little hut. His expression was serious, as was usually the case. It was obvious he felt like a third (or fifth) wheel with Luca and me, and Gianni and Zan, so he kept to himself most of the time, just checking in several times a day to see how his brother was feeling before retreating to the hotel again.
Their relationship was far from tranquil, and even though they were both making an effort to get along, they often ended up bickering whenever they tried to have a conversation. Andreo was always trying to give his brother unsolicited advice, which annoyed Luca to no end. When he saw his brother approaching, Luca’s first response was to stifle a sigh as he set aside his paperback.
Once he reached the deck, Andreo stood there awkwardly and asked, “How are you feeling today?”
“Fine.” That was his stock answer. Then he said, “Pull up a chair. You look like you’re standing at attention.”
Andreo perched on the edge of the second lounge chair and said, “Are you using sunscreen? You’re getting really dark. I wouldn’t want you to put yourself at risk for skin cancer.”
Luca made a conscious effort not to roll his eyes. “Don’t worry, Andreo, I know how to take care of myself.”
“It was just a suggestion. You don’t have to get snippy about it.”