I chew on my nail, hesitating. I could lie, and odds are he’d never know the difference. It would be the easier answer for sure. But I’m not going to.
“We had separate money when we met, and both made deposits when we started our joint accounts. You assumed my money came from my parents’ estate, and I just never corrected you.” I hold my breath as I chance a look up at him. “You’re the beneficiary on everything. The account numbers and directions to access it all are in our shared safe-deposit box at the bank. It’s the yellow key on your key chain.”
“Have I ever used the safe-deposit box?”
“Not that I know of. You usually let me handle that kind of stuff.”
“And I never asked questions.” Luca exhales, rolling to sit up at the side of the bed with his feet on the floor, and my stomach drops. He’s right, and we both know it, but I don’t want him to shoulder any of this blame.
It’s quiet in the room, and as if to remind him that they’re in this crazy trip together, Honey bounds into the room from wherever she’s been and covers his face with kisses.Don’t worry, she seems to say.Everything will be okay.
Or, at least that’s what I hope she’s saying.
“We both need to promise something,” he says.
He runs a hand down Honey’s neck, and my eyes follow the flex of muscle, the twist and curve of his naked back. “Of course. Anything.”
“No more lies by omission, Em. If we’re going to do this… it has to be the truth, all of it. I want us to find what we had, but better than before, more real. The grown-up version.”
“I promise,” I tell him. “Luca, I promise.”
He turns to hold my gaze over his shoulder. “And I’ll tell you what I need. I’ll call you on your shit and won’t take the easy way out. I promise, okay?”
I’m already nodding, my heart ready to leap out of my chest. “Okay.”
“Okay,” he says with a nod, then, “Come here.”
Like a starter pistol has been fired, I’m across the bed, my arms wrapped around his shoulders so tight. So tight.
I’m never letting him go.
Unfortunately, I have to let him go eventually. A guy’s gotta pee after all. So when Luca climbs out of bed and goes into the bathroom, I slip to the kitchen, pulling out a can of cinnamon rolls to bake, assuming that even I can capably bake these.
I’m mostly right—I only burn the bottoms a little—and Luca looks like a cartoon dog who’s followed his nose to a delicious plate of food as he walks into the kitchen, sniffing. “Something smells amazing.”
“It’s this very clearly homemade breakfast I’ve slaved over.” I hand him a plate, smiling winningly. “There’s also coffee. Lots of it.”
“Of course there is.”
“Would you like some?” I ask.
“Yes, please. Thank you.” Taking his plate, he moves to the table. “I was thinking in the shower.”
“Oh?” Getting my own cinnamon roll and two mugs of coffee, I join him.
“When people get to know each other, they tell the other person about their past, right? Their likes and dislikes?” He takes a giant bite of his roll, chewing while he waits for me to catch on.
I pass the sugar, having already told him how he likes his coffee. Two sugars, lots of cream. I also made him a list of his favorite things at the grocery store, nearby restaurants, ice cream flavors, the moviequotes he uses over and over, and where he likes to run, which is when it hits me: Luca didn’t know something as basic as how he orders his coffee. Starting over with the get-to-know-you game might be harder than we thought.
“Ahhh,” I say.
“Right,” he says, his foot absently resting between both of mine under the table. “So instead of telling you who I used to be, I want you to knowthisme. Who I am now. Like how you didn’t order for me at the bar.”
I grin at him. “I love this idea. Do you know where you want to start?”
“I think so? In bed, you asked what I felt like doing today. I think that if I met you somewhere, like, ran into you at the grocery store, I’d want to make you dinner?”
“Well, this is a win-win for me,” I say, smiling at him over my mug.
