Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81375 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81375 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Certainly, I’ve never stood frozen in one spot for so long, wishing the floor could chain me down before I start closing the distance between this counter and the other side of the room and putting certain theories and lust-induced imaginings to the test.
Luca has that raw beauty, talent, and kindness magnetism like no one I’ve ever known. It’s getting harder and harder to stop my brain from plunging straight down the smut rabbit hole that ends with me shouting something about fuck it, why not, before licking Luca from his jaw, straight down his neck, and onto his chest after tearing his shirt open, divesting him of it completely, putting his suspenders back on, and then going for his pants.
“Mine’s at the back of my mouth, actually,” he adds. “Ask my toothbrush. Mornings can be so brutal.” He laughs nervously, trying to dispel the awkwardness, but only making it worse.
More silence. The lingering quiet makes me want to panic laugh, but that would only up the ante. I’m not good with diversions, but we need a change of subject, fast. “Can I ask you something personal?” More personal than gagging?
“Sure. Let’s continue the trend.”
I rub my damp palms down my black velvet skirt. “How did you first cope with… with having your life changed like that? Did you read the stuff people were writing? There must have been a crazy amount of speculation.”
He sighs so hard that his shoulders sag, making me feel like a total asshole. “I cared way too much. Having this happen actually helped with that. Before, I was constantly looking myself up and reading the negative shit people had to say. I told myself I was doing it so I could get better, but really, I was just taking it to heart, internalizing most of it, and beating myself up for it. I don’t know if everyone is their harshest critic, but I definitely was mine.”
“About people not liking your food?”
Our bakery has had three negative reviews in the past five years, and I know just how personally my dad took those, even though one was left by some troll teenager who was disappointed that the bakery didn’t sell alien brain pie. Seriously. I can’t imagine what being a sort of celebrity in any way would feel like.
Luca runs his hands over his knees, grasping and curling his fingers into his thighs. “Sometimes it was about the food, but mostly, it was about the person making it or the establishment they own. It made me feel extra shitty when it was so clear how little the person leaving that review—be they a client or a food critic—actually understood about who I really was and what I was trying to do.”
“People make assumptions. I know I did.” There’s my unfiltered thoughts, running ahead of my mouth again. I can’t find the floor with my eyes fast enough, but that feels cowardly, so I tear them back up to Luca’s face and at least give him the courtesy of a proper apology now that I’ve put it out there. “I can’t apologize enough for that.”
“It’s not your fault. Neither of us expected an arranged date to actually go well. I don’t blame you for thinking my mom is probably a little bit unhinged and that I’m… well… a little bit strange too. What other conclusions were you supposed to draw from the whole situation?”
“It’s not…” I trail off.
It’s not like I can tell him that I’m sorry for hating him with some true menace-level worthy spite when I didn’t understand the situation at all. I thought he was one of those people who couldn’t be counted on. A heartbreaker. A life wrecker. Someone who doesn’t give a shit about anyone else’s hopes and dreams. A minefield of manipulation and bad decisions. I used that depth of bad feeling to drive me into these lies, and now I’m trapped. I wish he could know how sorry I am for that too.
I’ll tell him. Soon.
But until then, I’m still desperately sorry for every second that I haven’t.
“At least you didn’t just give up.” That’s what I admire most about him. It’s crazy that we just met yesterday, because it somehow feels like we’ve known each other for years. If I can’t give him a true apology, then I can give him this. “It would be so easy to say that you’d never look whole again and then wallow in it and get angry and bitter.”
“There was plenty of wallowing at first. It was my mom who made appointments with a few different plastic surgeons. She had them come to my old house, which was where I was staying after I discharged my own ass from the hospital against everyone’s wishes, because I didn’t want to go out anywhere. They were good doctors, but they were better people, and they made me see that I won’t ever be the same way again, but there’s beauty in that too. They said it would hurt, but they were confident they could put me back together. It’s a slow process, but sometimes not slow enough.”