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Chapter Twenty-Seven
Elena
When Luca got in the car I told him I needed some time to think. Essentially, I needed to process everything he said to me and we’d talk later this evening when we got home with a glass of wine. Wine was mandatory, because I knew then I’d need some liquid courage to get me through this conversation.
“Meet me in my study when you’re ready,” Luca states the second we get through the door. He starts to head toward the stairwell, but stops when I speak.
“Would you like a glass of wine?”
Shaking his head, he replies. “No, I have ?uica in my office.” And continues up the stairs. ?uica is a lot like wine, usually made from plums, but I prefer non-Romanian alcoholic drinks. A dry red would be amazing right now and I’m praying something is in the kitchen.
I head through the house and walk into the kitchen, seeing Migual is there preparing some sort of dish. “You’re cooking awfully late,” I say.
“Yes, well, I did get hungry. I’m pleasantly surprised your back. I was worried you’d scurry off and make him lick his wounds a bit before you came back home for good.”
“I think Luca has been licking his wounds for a very long time, even before me.” I state, knowing Migual must have some knowledge of his past. Migual grows quiet but that’s an indication to me that he understands and agrees.
Walking over to the wine rack, I pull a bottle of red and start shuffling through the drawers for a corkscrew. “Allow me,” Migual says, pulling one from the drawer beside him. He leaves his food cooking on the stove, stabs the sharp end of the corkscrew through the cork and turns the tool until he’s opened the bottle for me.
“He has glasses in his office, yes?”
“Yes, he has plenty.” Migual replies, so I start to walk off.
“Migual, thank you for always being so welcoming to me.”
“No need for thanks. I suppose I should thank you for not hating me for following orders.”
“You weren’t that bad to me, and . . . you’ve always been good to Luca. You’re a great friend to him, and I hope you know how much he cherishes you.”
Migual smiles softly and heads back over to his food. Meanwhile, I head up the stairs and go straight into Luca’s office. He’s at his makeshift bar, pouring the ?uica and plops two ice cubes into it. I hand the bottle of wine off to him when I arrive at the bar, and he pours me a drink. “Would you like ice?”
“God, no.” I snap, laughing at how sassy I just was.
Luca smirks, bringing his glass with him while we go out through his doorway onto the porch and overlook the ocean. He doesn’t have any lights to illuminate the balcony, but the lights from his office shine through the window. I walk up to the railing, sipping on my wine and listen to the sounds of the waves crashing onto the beach mixed with the sounds of birds flying in the air.
“I have conditions.”
“Conditions?” He inquires.
“Yes, if you want me to stay here, if you want to stay married.”
“Of course I want that,” He’s quick to respond, taking my hand in his own. “You know, I haven’t been sure of much in my life, but I’m sure of this.”
“Great, I’m glad to hear that. It means you won’t have any problem with my conditions.” I reply in a bossy tone.
He chuckles, “I don’t even know what these conditions are.”
“Well, if you’d shut up for a moment you’d know. Wouldn’t you?”
Luca gives me an aggravated look, so I continue.
“I don’t want to live in theoubliette. I’m fine if we go down there for . . . some pleasurableactivities, but when I was there you viewed me as being below you. In a marriage no one is above the other. We are equals. We are partners. That being said, I will be in your bed every night and you won’t step out in our marriage. We are committed to the other, completely. And Luca, I know you’re not sure if you love me, because you’ve never really been in love . . . but, promise me something, alright?”
“Anything,” He’s quick to say.
“Don’t tell me you love me, until you’re a hundred percent sure.”
“How will I know?”
