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“I’m not sure what to do, Doc. She wants to go home. I hate to take her, but before we started this trip, I promised her we’d take it one day at a time and if she wasn’t happy, I’d drive her back home.”
“I think that’s probably wise. Luca will feel better in her own environment. After an event like she’s just gone through, feeling in control of her surroundings again is of the utmost importance. And her home is where she feels the safest. I’ll come by as soon as she’s settled in, and we’ll get right back on the bicycle. This is a setback, not the end of the road for Luca’s recovery, Griffin.”
I don’t know what I expected the good doctor to say—taking her home was obviously the right thing to do. But hearing him confirm that I shouldn’t even try to talk her into staying made my heart sink.
“Okay. Yeah. Thanks, Doc.”
He must’ve heard in my voice how deflated I felt. “She’s strong, son. Luca will come back from this. You need to have faith.”
What was most important was that Luca would be okay. Whatever would become of our relationship took a back seat to her mental and physical health, of course. Though the selfish part of me couldn’t help but worry—Luca might come back from this, but would we?We’d been on the road for thirteen hours already and had about two hours left until we got to Vermont. Luca had been quiet the entire trip. Despite her preference to drive only at night to avoid traffic, we also traveled during some daylight hours to get home faster. She was calmer now, almost too calm. While she’d answer me if I asked her a direct question, it was clear that she didn’t really feel like talking. Most of the time, she’d just stare out the window, lost in thought. I hadn’t attempted to discuss what would happen when we got to Vermont, mainly because I was afraid of what she might say. But with two hours left, I needed to at least let her know the plans I’d been able to make.
I reached over and took her hand in mine. Bringing it to my lips, I kissed her knuckles. “The production company gave me until Monday to get back and finish the video shoot. So I booked a flight back tomorrow evening.”
“Oh. Okay.” She frowned. “I’m sorry you had to postpone everything. I’m sure the band isn’t happy about the delay.”
“It’s not a big deal. At all. We once had to postpone an album cover photo shoot because Styx, our drummer, got his tongue stuck to a stripper’s muff.”
She squinted at me and shook her head, seemingly coming out of her fog. “Did you just say he got his tongue stuck to a . . . ?”
I nodded. “Muff. Her pussy.”
Luca looked rightfully confused.
“Dumbass has a tongue ring. He went down on a stripper who had a clitoris ring, and the two somehow got connected, and they couldn’t disconnect them. He didn’t show up for the shoot and wasn’t answering his phone. So I went over to his place and pounded on the door. I figured he’d gotten loaded the night before and was passed out inside. When he still didn’t answer, I got the building super to let me in and found his head between her legs—they’d been stuck that way for four hours. Every time they tried to move, it hurt one of them, so they just lay in bed with his face planted between her legs and waited for his roommate to come home.”
“Did you . . . unhook them?”
“Fuck no. I did what any good buddy would do. First I FaceTimed the guys to show them the shit I’d just walked in on, and then I called 911 and snapped some pics while the two poor paramedics figured out how to remove the dumbass’s tongue ring without castrating the woman. Anyway, we missed that photo shoot, and a whole bunch of other shit for my mates’ ridiculous crap. No one is going to give a shit that I need a few personal days.”
Luca sighed. My stupid story seemed to at least get her attention away from the window. “Thank you for not pushing me to try to stay.”
I nodded. “I told you we’d take it one day at a time and I’d drive you home if you weren’t comfortable at any point. When I tell you something, I want you to be able to count on it. But I hope you know I would have done anything to get you to stay.”
“I know, Griffin. And I appreciate that. I really do.” She turned away and looked out the window again. “I’ve been thinking. When I first started working with Doc, I had photos of Isabella and me in every room of my house. The one in my bedroom was the first thing I looked at each morning when I opened my eyes. Doc convinced me to put them all away for a few days. He thought that if I stopped forcing myself to look at what I’d lost, it might make moving on a little easier. I hadn’t wanted to do that, because I loved Isabella so much—not past tense: I love Isabella so much—but eventually he got me to do it.”
