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I stewed on the drive back to my place, annoyed with myself that I was reacting like Luca was mine instead of someone to only have fun with. I should pull back. There was too much Luca didn’t know, and it wasn’t even really his business. I had to remind myself of that. Spilling my guts and letting him splash around in that pool of secrets and history wouldn’t change the reality of our situation, and it wouldn’t make me any more likely to tolerate people getting up in my romantic business.
Maybe I should push him toward Stella for both our sakes. My fingers white-knuckled on my steering wheel, a growl crawling up my throat. Okay, scratch that thought. I wanted to keep loving my sister, and if I was going to react like that, I would have to hope Luca turned her down if she ever got around to asking him out.
I waited for Luca inside the front entrance of my apartment building so I could see his arrival. He pulled into the visitor parking and walked up to the front doors with an obnoxiously cute pep in his step. He grinned at me as I let him in and stood close enough to touch in the elevator on the way up to my apartment.
“I brought snacks this time. Amaretti. They’re my nonna’s recipe.”
He thrust the container into my hands and I stared down at the blue lid, the cookies obscured through the clear plastic. Stella was the only one who had made food for me since I was little.
“Do you not…like amaretti?” he asked hesitantly. “You’re squeezing that container pretty hard.”
I unclenched my fingers and gave myself a little mental shakedown. “I love all cookies. Sorry, I’m in a weird mood today.”
Between Luca and my sister, I was starting to wonder if I would ever feel on balance again. Partners, however temporary, didn’t usually make me feel any type of way, but Luca…Luca fucking Marino was so good at getting under my defenses with his little puppy eyes.
Barely a moment after getting through the door, the buzzer rang with the arrival of our food. The delivery driver handed Luca our dinner while I went about my evening tasks. My stomach was growling with the knowledge that it would be fed soon. Luca looked right at home in my tiny kitchen, checking through the cupboards for what he sought, removing our food from the plastic containers, and plating them up as if we were eating at a restaurant.
“Come sit.” He set my salad at the breakfast bar. “Drink preference?”
“I have blackberry sparkling water on the bottom shelf in the fridge,” I replied. “Help yourself to anything you want.”
Luca found the sparkling water in question and poured it into a glass for me before fetching us forks. He’d gotten himself a pork chop and mashed potatoes, and when he saw me eyeballing the rich mushroom gravy draped over the meat, he nudged his plate toward me. “Want to taste?”
I already knew I loved what I had ordered, but hot food was always more comforting than cold. The flavor combo had me wiggling in my seat.
“Good?”
“Delicious.”
I ate quietly while Luca updated me about his work and the neighborhood. My questions about Stella sat like poison on my tongue and I knew it was probably better to spoil the evening now than to let myself stew.
“What do you think of the woman you walk dogs for?”
“Mrs. Cardellini is sweet. She used to babysit me when I was little. And Ms. Winslow seems super nice if a little frazzled. Why?”
I couldn’t deny it now. It could’ve been coincidence there was a dog walker out there named Luke, but while Luca might not know Stella’s first name, I couldn’t argue with the fact that her last name definitely was Winslow. Our having different surnames kept most people from realizing we were related.
“Luca, Stella Winslow is my sister.”
“Really?” he chirped. “Small world.”
“Very small. What would you do if…?”
“If what?”
I poked at my salad, not wanting to ask.
“Luna, is everything okay?”
His dark gaze burned into me, but his lips stayed closed, waiting for me to answer in my own time.
“Mostly? I don’t know how to ask without telling you about a private conversation and I don’t want to make things weird, but it would be better for both of us to know the answer sooner rather than later.” I stabbed my lettuce with a little more force than necessary.
“I can’t give an answer without knowing the question.” Luca collected a piece of pork chop on his fork, scooped some mashed potato onto the tip, and swirled it in the gravy before offering it to me.
I snatched the bite petulantly and chewed slowly while I considered. The logic of Luca and Stella—of pairing a helper with someone who needed the support—did absolutely nothing to override the growl that rose in my throat every time I entertained the idea. They would be good for each other. Far better than I could be for Luca.
“Would you go out with Stella if she asked?” I spat the words out before I could think any more about it, regretting it instantly when his mouth dropped open.
