I reflexively cup my hand around my mouth. “I’m afraid to tell him that I’m leaving.”
She scoffs again. “What? Why? He knows you’ve been planning to leave because...wait for it...you don’t live there.”
“Yeah, but…” I glance at the bedroom again and lower my voice to a near whisper. “Zoe, I think he’s in love with me.”
She clicks her tongue. “Oh well. Unless he’s ready to put a ring on it or something, that’s not really your problem. Unless…” She pauses for an extended beat. “Are you in love with him?”
“I mean…” I gulp and rub the sleep out of the inside corner of one eye. “I’ve loved him for like eight years.”
“Yeah, but for eight years,you weren’t living with him and sharing his bed.”
I sigh listlessly. “I know.”
“Sooo…?” Zoey prompts impatiently.
I chew my thumbnail. On the sidewalks below, I see a few people meandering down the sidewalks, and it’s simultaneously normal and completely foreign. Kind of like the idea of really lovingLucky De Luca.
“Okay, well, here’s the deal, sis,” she picks back up. “Nothing’s stopping you from staying there for even longer. Nothing’s stopping you from coming home just to pack your shit and move there. Nothing’s stopping you from coming home and going back to visit later. Exceptfor what youwant. You’re allowed to do whatever you want. It’s obvious that both of us can make a living working remotely from anywhere, and if you’re in love with him and want to see what happens, just stay a little while longer. So, again, are you in love with him?”
I sigh again, louder this time.
“You don’t have to answer that for me,” she adds. “The only person you owe an answer to that is yourself. And...y’know...him. I guess.”
“Yeah,” I agree placidly. I sigh a third time.
“Quit breathing into my ear like that,jeez. It’s too early.”
At that, I have to laugh. “Sorry.”
“God. That’s why I prefer texting. Anyway. Just think everything over, decide what you want, and tell him. He can’t get mad at you for deciding to go home. I mean, his male ego will probably be a little bruised, but he’ll get over it.”
I nod. “I know.” I almost sigh a fourthtime but catch myself before I do. “Okay, I’ll leave you alone.”
“Text me and let me know how it goes.”
“I will.” I laugh. “Go back to sleep.”
“Oh, I’m going to.”
Stepping back inside, the bedroom is still empty, and I go into the en suite to start the shower. There on the counter, as promised, is a perfectly prepared espresso in a small china cup and saucer. Next to it is a simple white card withAva Dollwritten on it in Lucky’s distinctive penmanship. I smile as I pick it up and open it. Inside, his dark, masculine script quotes a classic Sinatra song that we’ve danced to a number of times.
Fly me to the moon.
Let me play among the stars.
Let me see what spring is like on Jupiter and Mars.
In other words, hold my hand.
In other words, baby, kiss me.
Fill my heart with song and let me sing forever more.
xx
L.
And that’s when I do cry.
