“But I like the idea,” I tell him. “So when we get to where we’re going, let’s do it. Let’s start over entirely. Like we’ve just met on Hinge.” He looks at me, and I explain, “A dating app.”
“Ah.” Nodding, Luca says, “Okay, perfect. So pretend I haven’t noticed you need four cups of coffee to function, or that you’ll devour the pack of cherry tomatoes in the fridge but pick diced tomatoes out of your salad?”
I grin, gleeful that he’s noticed anything about me. “Exactly like that. There are so many tiny things we learn about people and then just file away. I know it’s probably so frustrating that you don’t remember them all, but I’m excited to get to know you again, too, to see who you want to become.” I peek at him. “You know, I told you how we met and that we had sort of an unconventional start, but I haven’t told you about the first time I went to your apartment here in San Diego. Do you want to hear it?”
He nods once, enthusiastically. “Absolutely.”
“Okay,” I say, relishing his attention. Although I’ve always been obsessed with my work, the discovery of Compound Y and ramping up of the research has meant that I’ve been single-minded for the past two years. But being with Luca like this, being forced to distance myself a little from what’s happening in the lab, means that I get to remember just how much I love when it’s only the two of us.
“We were coming back from our first official date,” I say, “and you’d just parked. We were passing the dumpster—”
“Oh, thedumpster. Romantic.”
Laughing, I continue. “We were passing the dumpster, and you saw this sad little plant someone had thrown out. I hadn’t even noticed it, and if I had, I wouldn’t have given it a second thought, but you immediately picked it up and took it upstairs.” I glance at him again. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed the plant in our bedroom in front of the window?”
“The fiddle-leaf fig?” He looks at me, surprised. “That’s the same one?”
I’m amazed all over again how some information is still hardwired for him. He knows the fiddle-leaf fig but not what movies he likes.
“Yeah, that’s the same plant.” I reach over, tentatively squeezing his uninjured thigh. God, he has great thighs. A flush runs through me. “Someone gave up on that spindly little thing, but you nursed it back to health. You never give up on anything.”
I realize I’m getting a little choked up. I’m not an overly emotional person, but it’s happening a lot this week. For so long I’ve promised myself that as soon as this project is done, or the next trial is complete, or the next milestone is hit, I’ll be more present, more of a partner for Luca. But I hadn’t, not until it was almost too late. Still, he never gave up on me, and he’s not giving up now.
I want to express how grateful I am, but I know, too, that it would mean admitting to him that he deserved so much more than what I gave him, and that might be the one truth I’m most afraid of.
We stop at Necessity Coffee for another hit for me and a cookie for Luca—his favorite, a black-and-white monstrosity that he used to take down in about three bites. He holds it, staring, before shrugging likeWhy the fuck notand digging in.
Finishing it in three bites.
I grin again, steering us out of the parking lot and heading somewhere very specific. “How’s the leg feeling?” I ask. Luca hasn’t had any pain medication today—said he wanted to try to go without it now.
He runs a hand down the thigh of his shorts, and I swallow the veritable flood of saliva the action triggers. “Good. I’d say about a two, if that. It’s more of an ache.”
I drag my focus away from the image and concentrate on the road, my hands gripping the steering wheel. “Think you’re up for some walking today?”
“I’d fuckingloveto do some walking today.”
I take the familiar turn, and Luca follows our progress out the window, trying to piece together where we’re headed. After a few minutes, I turn into a paid lot across from Powerhouse Park. Luca would usually run to the beach, but he isn’t going to be running anywhere for a while and, frankly, I would only run if a serial killer was chasing me.
“The beach?” he asks.
“If we’re going to start over, I thought we’d do it where we had our first real date.”
Parking here is usually a nightmare, but we’ve timed it just right. This isn’t really known as a surfer beach, and the crowds haven’t shown up in a big way yet. Luckily, I’ve only driven down one row before eyeing an open spot just on the left. Hopping out, I round the car to help him, but he’s already rising from the seat, no grimace of pain to be seen. Grabbing the cane from the back seat, I see the way he looks like he wants to refuse, but he takes it. He doesn’t really need it at the house, but those are short distances, and on even ground. Besides, Luca doesn’t only have to get to the beach, he has to be able to make it back to the car.
Even hunched slightly with his limp, he still towers over me, big and solid and commanding andhere. I’ll never take it for granted again.
“All good?” I ask. My voice comes out breathier than I planned, but we’re standing so close, and he’s always had this effect on me. I mean, of course I liked sex before, but with Luca it was something else entirely. Animalistic. Instinct, from the very first time. We’ve never gone this long without it, and I wonder if there’s some tension spring inside me that’s slowly ratcheting up, making the thought of touching him, feeling him, take over more and more real estate in my mind.
Oblivious to all of this, he closes the car door behind him. “All good,” he says with a wide smile. “Lead the way.”
“So, I did some research on accessibility,” I say as we walk, unhurried, toward the park. “Mostly I wanted to make sure you wouldn’t have any issues getting to the sand, but they have accessible bathrooms, paved trails, picnic tables, parking, and direct access to the beach. They even have special beach wheelchairs people can rent, with these big all-terrain tires. I didn’t know this, but some of them even float in shallow water, which is pretty cool.” When Luca is quiet, I glance over. He’s smiling. “What?”
“Nothing. That was just very thoughtful.”
“Oh,” I say, feeling my face warm. “Well… good.”
The path cuts between two wide swaths of grass, with a playground at the far end. We both look toward the laughter of a pair of toddler boys chasing a cloud of soapy bubbles.
