He rubbed his thumb on her palm.
“I found the problem with the air conditioner,” the repair guy interrupted them.
Brooke broke free and walked away.
By three, the hired workers were gone, the problems fixed. And even though the inside of the condo was cool, they were out in the garage working up a sweat.
Luca had piled the junk in the driveway and waited for the man he hired to come and take it all away.
The only things left in the house were those that required two people to get out. Even though Brooke said she could do it, it was against Luca’s fiber to let her when he knew a man was coming soon. Some might consider that sexist, but he thought of it as chivalrous. He knew she could, he just didn’t want her to.
Back in the garage, he lifted a dusty box onto the now empty workbench and opened it. “More papers,” he announced.
Brooke groaned. “Just start sifting through them. At this point the only thing I’m interested in is a possible funeral plot, death benefit, or forgotten letter from a rich aunt I never knew about.” She laughed. “Everything else gets thrown away.”
She was exhausted, he could see it in her eyes. “Why don’t you take a break?”
“I will when we’re done. We’re almost there.”
He pulled out the first yellowed folder and opened it. Old bank statements. “Who is Gilroy?”
“My grandfather. He’s been dead for over twenty years. Throw it away.”
In the trash it went.
Gilroy dominated the top of the box. “All this has his social security number on them.”
“He’s dead.”
“True.” In the trash . . .
Luca dug more, found an old black-and-white picture. “Do you know who these people are?”
Brooke glanced at it, shook her head. “Trash.”
A pile of old holiday cards was the next to find the garbage bin.
He found a letter, pulled it from the opened envelope. It was addressed to Brooke’s father. Luca flipped through the pages to the end, read the name of the sender out loud. “Do you know who Elaine is?”
Brooke’s chin shot up. “My mother.”
Luca handed the letter to Brooke and watched her for a moment.
Her eyes scanned it until she backed up and sat in the only chair in the garage.
He wanted to ask what the letter said, but instead he picked up another letter. This one was also addressed to Mr. Turner, only it started out . . .
Dear Dad,
Luca flipped to the back, saw Brooke’s name in flamboyant letters like teenage girls did.
He turned it back around and read the first few lines.
Hi . . . remember me? How was your Christmas? New Year’s? My birthday was great, thank you so much for asking. Wait . . . you didn’t ask. In fact, I haven’t heard a thing from you. I thought you promised that after we met you were going to stick around. I guess my last letter when I asked your advice on what to do with Mom’s new boyfriend hitting on me made you nervous. Maybe you thought I’d ask to move in with you. I know your wife doesn’t like me. I don’t need to go to a whole new state and not be welcome. But you could have at least sent a letter.
I figured it out. The thing with Bill. I moved in with my girlfriend and her parents. I only have six months before I finish high school. I’m not going to let Mom fuck that up.
Here is my new address, if you care.
I’m not asking you for money. I just need a dad.
Please write back.
Brooke
Luca didn’t mean to read the whole thing.
His heart broke in his chest for the young lady writing that letter.
He looked up at the woman, still reading the pages of the letter her mother sent to her dad.
In the box, more letters in Brooke’s teenage hand were addressed to her father.
Read them.
Read them all!
He didn’t.
No matter what his mind screamed.
Instead, he looked at the woman behind the pen who now sat staring beyond the open garage door in thought.
“Cara?”
She looked up, her eyes glazed. “I’m okay.”
“There’s more.”
Her eyes widened and she jumped up.
Luca handed her the letter he’d just read. “I read this one. It feels like a violation now. I’m sorry.”
And he was, because the letter had been personal, and not something he should have stumbled upon.
Without a choice, Luca stood by and watched as she read her own words to her father and her eyes swelled with tears.
His palms itched to reach for her.
Only when her hand fell to her side, her chin dropped to her chest, and a sob tore from her throat did he give in to the urge and pull her into his arms.
She let him.
In fact, she wrapped around him as if he were a life preserver and the only thing keeping her afloat.
God, this woman.
This strong, valiant, beautiful woman was holding so much together for someone who had left her and caused her to write a letter like that. Did he ever come to her rescue? Did he bring her in and make it better? What happened after that letter? So many questions. Why had she done all this for the man, was doing all this for him?
Brooke cried into his shoulder. Her fingers dug into his back, and her frame pressed into his.
All while Luca whispered to her in Italian. Telling her he was there and that she could cry and it was okay. That he would catch her.
When her tears emptied, and her body released the last of the pain, she sniffled against his chest and pulled away.
Luca pressed a palm against her cheek. “Are you okay?”
She bit her lip, nodded, then changed her mind and shook her head. “I just need to get this chapter done. Get my dad on autopilot so I can process all of this.”
He moved away, even though he could continue to hold her into next year. “Let’s push through then.”
Brooke reached for the box he had been going through.
“Do you want to keep all of that?” he asked.
“Yeah. For now.”
He could only imagine the pain in those letters. There was comfort in knowing that she was only a few feet away, upstairs, should she need his shoulder again.
Brooke stood tall, and within minutes they were back at the work in front of them. Twenty minutes before the five o’clock deadline, the work was finished. His car was filled with the remainder of Brooke’s belongings and the papers, letters, and files she deemed important enough to keep.
They both stared at the pile of trash.
“Sad that one’s life is reduced to a pile of rubble,” she said.
“Don’t forget the money.”
She smiled. “Oh my God, the change.”
Luca placed a hand over her shoulder and pulled her into his side. “You’re an amazing woman, Brooke.”
“Who needs a shower.”
They both did.
He brought his fingers to her chin, moved her face to look at him. “Bellissima, tesoro. Even with dirt on your face and a twig in your hair.”
Her hand shot up to her head, and she moved closer.
When she didn’t run away, he did what he’d been dying to do from the first time he’d seen her walk up the stairs of his family home.
His lips reached for hers.
She leaned in.
He pulled her close.
Yes. This. Exactly this. Luca opened her lips like a fine wine and sipped her slowly to savor the taste.