The Romance Revival(14)

Tonight, I’m doing it. I’m going to tell him about BioNEX.

“Okay,” I say, and slow to a stop at the intersection at the bottom of our street. “See you in a second.”

Luca ends the call, and I shift into park, glad at least that we’re not going to do this in our driveway. Betty would probably record and make a transcript of the entire conversation.

Anxiously chewing my nails, I look around, waiting for Luca. Aside from a few contemporary remodels, the homes are typical of most in this part of Del Mar: Spanish-inspired, with low, pitched roofs, asymmetrical facades, and arched doorways and windows. We probably have the smallest house in our neighborhood, but I’m willing to bet it’s most people’s favorite. Luca has seen to that, having lovingly overhauled almost every square inch of it, babying the yard so it blooms robustly year-round. I’ve never had the time or interest in that sort of thing, but Luca is happiest when he’s taking care of something. People or houses, if I’m being honest.

The streetlights are on, which makes it easy to finally spot him at the end of the road. He’s in light gray shorts and a T-shirt, and he has his head down, leaving his face in shadow. Even knowing what I’m about to do, my heart does a familiar lurch just like it always does when I see him. I love him endlessly.

And even if he knows deep down how I feel, he deserves to be mad at me, and I deserve whatever tongue-lashing is coming.

But most of all, he deserves to know the truth.

At the sound of a car blowing past me, I look over. If someone asked me later to describe the car or the person driving it, I couldn’t, but I’ll never forget what happens next. One second Luca is stepping off the sidewalk to cross the street to me, and the next second he looks up—just as the car hits him. I can’t even scream as his feet come out from under him and his body goes up and over the roof of the car to land with a sickening thud on the street below. When time snaps back, I’m fumbling out of my own car, tripping as my feet try to move while my brain goes haywire, finally getting my footing, finally screaming his name.

The car is gone, but Luca is there in the intersection, completely still.

I’ve been tormented by the idea of my mother bleeding out in her car a million times. I’ve drawn blood from thousands of people. The notion of spilled blood haunts me, it drives me, and as I stare at the growing pool of liquid and broken glass on the asphalt, even in the dark, Luca’s blood seems so much redder than any I’ve ever seen.

“Luca?” I gently shake him. “Luca!”

No response.

Panicking and trembling violently, I scan his body. His right side, from his hip to his foot, is soaked in blood. Carefully, I roll him over, locating an enormous slash on his thigh. His femoral artery has been punctured, and I tear off my blazer, using it as a tourniquet around his upper thigh.

I press a hand to his face, crying out when his eyes flutter open. “Luca? Luca, look at me.”

“Em?”

I nod frantically. “I’m here. Don’t close your eyes. Stay with me.” My hands shake as I quickly run them over his body, looking for other injuries.

“I can’t feel…”

“Can’t feel what?” I’m trembling violently. “Luca, honey. You can’t feel what? No. No. Don’t close your eyes. No, no, no, no.” I shake him, but they don’t open again.

The air grows trapped in my lungs; I’m unable to inhale or exhale. I try to scream, but nothing comes out. I can’t move, frozen in the moment, frozen in fear. Shoving my breath out, I force myself to focus. If I panic, I can’t help him. There will be time to fall apart later.

With a sob, I inspect the wound on his thigh. The bleeding has reduced to a trickle by this point, and my mind screams at me to fix it, fix it, fix it.

If I hadn’t been late. If I hadn’t been late.

Pressing my fingers to his neck, I feel for a pulse but can’t find one. I reach for his wrist, setting my fingers against his radial artery—nothing—his inner elbow: also nothing. Panic chokes me.

“Help!” I scream, but nobody comes. It’s summer and everyone’s windows are closed tight, sealing the air-conditioning inside. “Help!”

I start chest compressions, pressing down hard and fast the way I’ve been trained.

Staying alive, staying alive, ah, ah, ah, ah, staying alive…

“Oh my God, Luca, please, no. No, no, no. Stay with me. Stay with me.”

Pausing, I fumble with slippery hands for my phone but remember it’s in my car, in my bag, wherever I threw it. The hospital is probably thirteen minutes away with no traffic. Luca doesn’t have thirteen minutes. He doesn’t even have three. Even if an ambulance was here right now, they might not be able to save him.

That’s when I freeze, remembering what else is in my car. Awareness sends a cold wash down my arms. I have seconds.

There’s only one thing I can think to do.





7 EMERY




Em? You better not be calling me from your anniversary dinner.”

“Annie!” I shout into the car. “Where are you?”

“I was just about to leave. Is… is everything okay?”

Exhaling a harsh, terrified breath, I look back to where Luca is wrapped in a blanket and lying across my back seat. His skin is pale and he’s disturbingly still.