“Getting any kind of real help and advice with my life. If I seem ungrateful or say the wrong things, it’s not because I’m not thankful.”
He laughed as he held the door open for her. “Does that mean you’re sorry for the judgy comment?”
She shook her head. “Let’s not get carried away.”
He laughed harder.
In the hall between the restaurant and the stairway to the residence, Brooke stopped on the first step. “Thanks again.”
Luca nodded and she turned to walk away.
“How about something other than pasta tonight?” he found himself asking.
She stopped, turned. “You know, Luca, I can cook.”
“You can?”
“Not like you, but I have managed.” She took another two steps.
He stopped her.
“Chicken piccata? I’ll send it up at six.”
“You’re too much.”
“That’s a yes,” he said and turned away.
She continued to laugh as she walked up the stairs.
He diverted to the kitchen, poked his head inside. The wheels were turning, the staff busy but not hurried. “Do you need me?” he asked in Italian.
“Check in an hour,” his second told him.
Luca’s second stop was the office. Finding it empty, he did a quick pass through the restaurant, saw his sister taking an order.
Satisfied, he made his way upstairs.
Gio greeted him at the door, a stupid grin on his face.
“Brooke, really?”
Luca immediately looked around for Franny.
“She’s in her room.”
He sighed, walked in, and closed the door behind him. “It’s not what you think.”
“Yeah, sure it isn’t.”
Ignoring his brother, Luca walked past him and into his kitchen, grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. “Your assumptions will make an ass out of you.”
“She’s beautiful and a little wounded. Exactly your type.”
“A lot wounded and I’m not going there.” Even if his body wanted to.
“Can I have that in writing?”
Luca didn’t grace his brother’s question with an answer. “Thanks for picking up Francesca.”
Gio took the hint and started for the door. “I’m out tomorrow. Looking for my own place.”
Luca glanced up. “Have you told Mama?”
“Not yet. When I find something.”
Much as he didn’t like the thought of his brother moving, he understood. “Let me know what I can do.”
“I will.”
Leaving him alone, Luca walked down the hall to check on his baby girl.
Her precious smile lit up when she noticed him, and she jumped up from her tiny desk, the one she did her homework on, to give him a hug.
“Hi, Papa. Uncle Gio gave me gelato.”
As if the drips on her shirt didn’t give her away. “I’m sure he did.”
“I said only one scoop because you’d be mad if it was two.”
Luca lifted his daughter up in his arms even though she was getting way too big to do this much longer. “Chocolate?”
“How can you tell? Do I have chocolate breath?”
He laughed and pointed to the corner of his own mouth with his tongue. “You left a bit.”
Franny made an exaggerated move with her tongue to get the chocolate evidence off her face. When she did, her eyes rolled back, giving Luca even more reason to laugh.
“Do you cook tonight?” she asked him.
“Maybe. But not for a while. Do you want to hit the park?”
She wiggled out of his arms and ran to her closet. “Can we play Frisbee?”
“Whatever you want, tesorina.”
Frisbee in hand, they left the apartment.
She thought it was all fun and games, but Luca wanted to burn off the ice cream long before bedtime.
Life was all about balance.
As he thought the word, he wondered when the last time Brooke went to the park and tossed a Frisbee around was.
Maybe someday he’d ask her.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The phone was blissfully silent. Although that didn’t stop Brooke from looking at the screen every fifteen minutes or so throughout the rest of the day and into the evening.
Luca had dinner delivered as if she was on some kind of meal service.
She fired up her computer, logged in to her work email, and dug her heels in for a long night.
She made it until nine, when her eyes couldn’t stay open any longer, and found herself facedown in bed in a dreamless sleep.
A loud noise jolted her out of bed. The first thing Brooke did was reach for her phone, certain that was the noise that pulled her from the best sleep she’d had in months. Only by the time she had it to her ear, she realized it wasn’t ringing.
A car horn in the distance had her shaking the sleep from her eyes.
The sun was up . . . way up.
Brooke glanced at the clock by the bed and gasped. Nine thirty.
“Good God.” She’d slept for twelve and a half hours and still felt like she could sleep more.
She rolled over, punched her pillow, and snuggled in.
Luca had been right. She needed to breathe.
And sleep.
Luca . . .
He’d followed her yesterday. Sat in her car and listened while she told him her life’s story. Well, the last few years anyway.
No judgment.
No moment where he suggested she was being overly dramatic and looking for sympathy.
No. The man had listened, and once she was all out of words, he offered advice in the form of a question. None of the “You should,” or “You’d be a fool if . . .”
Brooke found herself curling into a ball.
Her time with Marshall was so completely opposite.
If he didn’t simply tell her she was an idiot for doing what she did, he’d ignore her work and complain about where he ranked in her life.
She was comparing apples to oranges. She’d been with Marshall for three years. She’d known Luca for a handful of days.
Brooke stared across the room where sunlight spilled in from the window.
Facts didn’t stop her from comparing.
Luca won.
Jesus . . . how had she let herself fall for someone so selfish?
She shook away her thoughts and pushed the covers off the bed.
Once her feet hit the floor, she glanced at her phone.
No calls.
No messages.
She stretched her arms over her head and felt the muscles in her back rebel. As soon as she saw Chloe, Brooke was going to take her up on the yoga lessons. She felt as if she’d aged five years in a few short months. That road needed to end.
But first . . . coffee.
As her morning java brewed, Brooke opened the sliding glass door and let in the morning sun. It was still a bit cool, but the moist salt air was exactly what she needed. Looking around first to make sure she was alone, she padded out barefoot to the terrace, took in the view of the bay.
A brisk walk would help clear the cobwebs that had settled from sleeping in and hopefully pump her up for a full and productive day of work. And as much as she wanted to know if her father was having a better day, she decided to skip her routine phone call to take care of her own mental health. His stunt the day before had just about thrown her over the bridge. Taking some time off when she’d hired people to care for him wasn’t uncalled for.
Ten minutes later, she was in her kitchen, hot coffee in hand with her laptop open, checking her email. She started clicking into work mail and stopped herself. Brooke finished her coffee as she found a pair of leggings and dressed for that walk. A set of earbuds and her phone tucked in a pocket and she was off.