Page 176 of Twisted Needs

“Hells yeah, babe,” Anders says, and Luca visibly pinches the bridge of his nose like he’s trying to physically hold himself together.

“But he’s our uncle,” Laura’s younger sister tries, still working through the logic out loud in her poor middle-schooler brain.

“I’m your uncle, too, Inesa,” Anders corrects, completely serious. “Your real one. He’s the imposter.”

The table spirals from there, overlapping voices and half-questions and laughter threading through confusion, but even as it all continues I can feel Luca withdrawing into himself in real time, like he’s signing off from the entire moment. Then he stands. His chair scrapes, and the sound cuts through everything so piercingly loud the entire room resets at once. He walks to the island, picks up his wallet and keys with careful precision, and when he finally looks at me, everything else fades.

“We’re going for a drive.”

My stomach drops. It’s not a suggestion. It’s a demand. Anders starts to react, but I stop him without thinking, my hand settling at the back of his head because I can feel him ready to spiral. “Hey.”

He stills instantly. I take my mug and press it into his hands, and his eyes find mine with a question I don’t need him to say out loud. I answer it the only way I can by shaking my head once, small and steady, before leaning in and kissing him right there in front of everyone. Not to prove anything to them, but to anchor myself because I know I’ll need all the self-restraint I can muster.

When I pull back, he looks at me like the rest of the room doesn’t exist. “I love you,” I say quietly.

Silence fills the room, unintentionally heavy. But I don’t care. Not anymore. “Park,” Emelie whispers, like she’s watching something cross a point of no return. “He will murder you…”

I ignore her, focusing instead on Anders. “Love you too,” Anders says, just as certain. And when I finally look back toward Luca, he’s still standing there waiting, not angry exactly, but something that recognizes the fact that everything is different now in a way that’s scarily permanent.

So I follow him out, the sound of his keys faint against the quiet that follows us, and I tell myself this is just another step, even as it starts to feel like the beginning of something I can’t quite name yet.

I slide into the passenger seat of Luca and Em’s massive black suburban, immediately lifting my feet up so I don’t accidentally step on some Cheerios and a half-eaten McDonald’s cheeseburger that sits disgustingly beneath the dashboard.

Absentmindedly, I kick it to the side. Something tells me Luca isn’t in the mood to hear how disgusting his wife’s car is.

Luca’s the one to cut the uncomfortable silence. “Patsy’s is open in ten minutes.”

“Hmf,” I laugh, shaking my head and smiling despite it feeling wrong at the moment.

“Just so you know…I’m not going to yell,” Luca tells me.

Do I believe him? Hell no. Only an idiot would take Luca de Sousa on his word when it comes to voice levels. The man fucking yells when he’s happy.

“So…is this, like, a murder me and dump my body in the lake situation…or⁠—”

He turns and looks at me like I just accused him of doing something far worse than murder. Mind you—the man hasn’t even put the key into the ignition yet.

“I’d watch your fucking mouth if I were you,” he threatens.

“Got it,” I say immediately, leaning against the passenger seat.

The server isn’t surprised to see us stumbling in at ten in the morning. “Bar doesn’t open until noon, you two,” the older lady chuckles.

Luca flashes her a smile. “Did you get botox, Miss Rose? You look good.”

“You look rejuvenated,” I add.

“I’ll pour it in a coffee mug,” she says. “Go sit in the back corner in case my husband gets back from his appointment early.” We slide into our usual booth. A few seconds later she returns with two white coffee mugs filled generously with scotch.

Golden sunlight pours through the dusty windows. I absentmindedly fiddle with a Splenda packet until Luca clears his throat. “I don’t know how to start,” I admit.

Before he says anything else, Luca shoots me a look. “Is that a fucking hickey?”

“What?” Fuck. I rub my neck immediately.

Luca huffs. “I don’t like this at all.”

“I know you don’t.”