Because I know the rest of the lyrics.
You are all I long for, all I worship and adore. In other words, please be true. In other words, I love you.
I’ve noticed him saying things for a number of days now that seem like he’s been tiptoeing around the truth, and this note pretty much screams it from the rooftops.
Lucky De Luca is in love with me.
And I wasn’t going to come right out and say it to Zoey, but I’ve totally fallen in love with him, too.
And I’m leaving in only two days.
* * *
The restof the day has me nearly sick with nerves. Everything blurs together with a fuzzy feeling of anxiety. In my head, I ping-pong between dread at the idea of telling Lucky I’m leaving, righteous indignation and defensiveness at the idea that he might get mad at me for wanting to go home, and simple heartache at the knowledge that Iamleaving and that more than likely means what we’ve had with each other for the past month is just going to end.
In the evening, all the residents of the Jazz Manor have gathered in the large dining room for a tapas-style dinner, but the few food items sit on my plate largely untouched. I’ve had approximately three sips of the merlot sitting next to my plate, but I’ve chugged so many glasses of water that I lose count as a result of my nerves driving me to complete dehydration.
Per usual, it’s all laughter, bawdy conversation, and swanky jazz filling the gaps in the atmosphere. Meyer and Lucky are deep in intense conversation about something business related, the two of them speaking with gusto and Italian New York slang while throwing dramatic hand gestures in the air, but Lucky keeps one hand resting on the nape of my neck. His thumb absently draws a vertical line up and down the spot just behind my earlobe, and I meditate on the feel of it while picking at my food and gulping down more water.
Like a homing device, my hearing manages to cut through the white noise hum in my mind and picks up someone saying something about leaving in the next few days, and Lucky’s response shakes me out of my head.
“Pearl...my dear...I wish you wouldn’t do that.”
I cut my eyes up from my plate to look at Pearl across the table, noting for the first time since I sat down that she’s not all gussied up in vintage garb for dinner like she’s made a habit of doing since we arrived here four months ago.
“Well, Lucky, darling.” Pearl rests her elbows on the table and folds her weathered hands under her chin. “I can’t stay here forever. My daughter is on her way here right now. She’ll be here on Saturday. She’s been very careful to not leave her house for at least two weeks, and she’s okay. I’ll be okay, too. We’ll be very safe, and it’s just.” She turns over her hand. “It’s just time.”
Lucky stares at her with a neutral expression while his wrist rests on the edge of the table, forefinger and thumb methodically rubbing together. “You’ll be on the road for a number of days. Probably making a number of stops.” He gestures at her with an open palm while his opposite hand continues to stroke the nape of my neck. “You’ll be exposed to a lot of people.” He pauses to draw in a deep, silent breath that causes his broad shoulders to rise and fall. “Not to scare you, but three of me and Meyer’s friends back in New York have died from this thing. Young guys, too.” He presses his palm to his chest. “My home is your home, darling. I want you to feel like you can stay here as long as necessary to stay safe.”
“I do know that, Lucky, and I love you for it.” Pearl sighs wistfully. “I’ve loved being here. And I assure you.” She lifts her hand to wag her finger at him. “I will be coming back to see you, but…” She shrugs. “I need to go back home.”
Lucky waves his hand, his dark brows pulling low. “What about Piper?”
“IlovePiper.” Pearl turns to Piper, who’s seated next to her wearing a tight-lipped smile while her eyes start to glitter. “I loveyou, my sweet.” Pearl turns back to Lucky. “But I have to go.”
Lucky jerks his chin at Piper. “You gonna go with her?”
Piper shakes her head, dabbing one corner of her eye. “Nah, I gotta stay. You know that, Luck. I’m never gonna abandon you.”
Lucky pitches forward to lean across the table. “Even if it means abandoning what you two got?”
He’s becoming visibly agitated, his thumb now motionless against my skin, but his hold on my neck is slightly firmer. I know this isn’t about Pearl and Piper. This is about him and me, and the fact that he’s deduced that Pearl’s announcement about leaving is likely a precursor to mine.
“But we’re not abandoning it, Luck,” Piper insists.
“That’s right,” Pearl underscores. “We’ll stay in touch, and when things are safe again, we’ll see each other then. Some things are only for a season, and this season is coming to an end. That doesn’t mean love has to end with it.”
The muscle in Lucky’s sharp jaw pulses as he sits back in his chair and picks up his crystal low-ball glass of bourbon. “I suppose. I still think this isn’t the time to go anywhere yet. None of these bureaucrats opened anything up because it’s safe. They did it because people are gettin’ restless and angry.” He raises his eyebrows and lifts his glass. “This shit’s only gonna get worse. It’s gonna get way worse than it was when they locked us up in March. I don’t want to see something bad happen to you, Pearl.”
Pearl leans across the table to pat the spot in front of his plate. “I’ll be okay. My daughter got us a lot of that protective equipment. She got some of those masks they use in the hospitals and some of those plastic face shields.” She chortles. “I’m going to leave here looking like I’m part of a hazmat team, but that’ll keep me safe. I promise.”
Lucky drops his gaze to the table, worrying his upper lip between his teeth for a second before downing the rest of his drink. The topic seems to slip away as Pearl directs her attention to Harloe and Shawna from the kinky show back in the early days of the lockdown, who’s dressed in regular, masculine clothes rather than his French Maid costume. Meyer leans sideways to say something in Lucky’s ear, but Lucky throws his hand up to silence him and turns to me, inspecting my plate.
“You haven’t eaten anything today, sweetie. What’sa matter?”
I meet his hard, cobalt gaze, and I don’t miss the shadow of wariness.
I can’t think of anything to say. In place of words, I reach for his face, cupping his cheek and drawing my thumb across his chin before leaning toward him to kiss his lips. He slides his hand up from my neck to the back of my head, twirling his fingers around strands of my hair, and he breaks the kiss to press his forehead to mine.
