The Turning Point (20 page)

Now we were connected. Anchored. A perfect fit.

“Don’t worry, we’ll take it slow,” Lucas breathed in my ear. He pulled out just a little and slid back in again, farther this time.

I exhaled loudly. Tiny beads of sweat coated my flushed skin. “Hhhh…” My hips rose, begging for more of him.

He repeated the same, steady motion a few more times, sliding in a little farther with each exquisite push and pull, until he sank into me fully, burying his head against my neck. “Sophia.” His hot breath zinged across my skin. “You’re so tight. You feel so damn amazing,” he groaned.

We fell into a natural rhythm as I loosened up. I never imagined it could feel this way. It was special, rare, and mind-blowing, and it erased all the terrible memories of my first time. I deemed this my first time…This was what it was all about. We were synced. I’d found my other half, and now I was whole. We moved together as one.

Lucas kissed along my neck, running his hands down my sides and around the curve of my ass. He pushed me up, crashing deeper into me as he flipped us around, my legs astride him.

“Whoa!” I gasped. “Dear God, that was awesome,” I laughed breathlessly. “I thought that only happened in books and movies.”

He smiled full-on, dimple and all. “What kind of books are you reading?” He raised an eyebrow curiously.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” I wiggled my hips and sucked in a breath, feeling him deeper inside me. He’d given me all the control with this new angle. A girl could get used to this.

He hummed. “Damn, I thought having you beneath me was a great view, but this one is fucking glorious.” He grinned, smoothing his hands across my hips, guiding my tentative movements. “That’s it, baby, do what feels good.”

I splayed my hands across his pecs, getting comfortable with my movements, letting the pressure build with each dip and rise of my hips.

“Fuck…Sophia!” Lucas palmed my breasts and I rode him faster, harder.

“Lucas,” I yelled.

“I love it when you say my name like that.”

He sat up and I wrapped my legs around his waist. He circled his hands at my middle and hitched me up onto his lap, holding me so close and so tight. I squeezed my legs, pulling him into me as far as he could go. I ground my hips down as he pulled up, our rhythm fevered and out of control.

“Lucas! I’m going to…,” I cried out, unable to finish the sentence before my world exploded.

Every muscle clenched. I squeezed my eyes shut. Colors burst behind my lids. I was sure there were ten million, if not more. Lucas kept moving, coaxing more spasms from my body. They ricocheted off one another, lighting more sparks, spreading a wildfire, and sending up fireworks all at once. I was aflame.

Lucas thrust into me, his panting breaths hot against my neck. I forced my eyes open; I wanted to see him come to life.

He squeezed my middle, impossibly tight, and slammed into me two more times before throwing his head back with a deep, satisfied groan.

Slowly, he brought his head back up. His eyes were hooded as he stared back at me. “That was incredible.” He pulled his thumb over my kiss-swollen bottom lip and across my cheek.

I nodded, leaning my forehead against his. “Thank you.”

“I should be the one thanking you.” His shoulders heaved, as did mine, as we tried to catch our breath. “It’s like the sun has finally broken through the rain clouds that have drenched my life the six years.”

I held on to him with everything I had, my arms tight around his neck, refusing to let go. I feared that the minute we parted, real life would come crashing between us. “Will you just hold me for a minute longer?” My voice shook.

He hugged me close, binding me in his arms. “Baby, I’ll hold you forever if you’ll let me.”

S
tartled awake by the sound of a voice, I opened my eyes but lay still. Lucas was pressed against my back, his arm draped over my waist, while one of his legs was tangled with mine beneath the covers. His breathing was heavy and even; he was sound asleep.

But I could have sworn I heard a voice…

Now, wide awake, I lay there, staring across the dark room. Outside, lights still glowed brightly, despite the late hour. I was physically exhausted and a little sore, but I smiled, my mind blissfully content at the moment. Quiet for once.

Lucas stirred, stretching his leg out. “Soph,” he mumbled, my name garbled with sleep.

“Yeah,” I whispered. I listened for a reply, but none came. “Lucas?”

He remained quiet, breathing deeply.

Sleep talking again.

Lucas was a noisy sleeper. Actually, tonight had been the quietest he’d slept since we’d teamed up on this vacation. Most nights, I heard him tossing and turning, the pullout bed whining in protest. He’d mumble random things, most of which made no sense. But the one word he did say repeatedly was “Julia.” He’d uttered her name at least a dozen times over the last month.

I wondered what he dreamed about when he called out her name. And a small pang of jealousy pinched my heart each time.

But tonight he’d said
my
name. Only my name.

I gloried in that, a thrill sending goose bumps over my skin. I wiggled my backside, snuggling closer to him. Now I was desperate to know what he was dreaming about.

“Two days,” he said.

Two days?

I was due to return to the States in two days. Is that what he meant?

What would happen in two days? Lucas mentioned coming back to St. Louis with me, but how feasible was that, really? He had a life and a business waiting for him in California. It’s one thing for him to take a vacation, get his life straightened out, but it was certainly another to disrupt his life for a girl he hardly knew. Besides, I had med school starting in a month. Once I left Italy, I’d have to pick up my real life from where I’d dropped it before I came.

And then there was the issue of a blood test.

Lucas sighed heavily. “Sophia, wait.”

“Wait for what, Lucas?” I whispered.

No reply.

For the longest time, I listened to him breathe. Enjoyed his body’s warmth.

I waited, like he’d asked.

My eyelids drooped. I pushed my hands beneath the pillow and waited for sleep to cover me.

“I love you, Sophia,” he exhaled.

My eyes sprang open, no longer heavy.
What? He loved me? Did he really say that?

“Lucas?” I said, wondering if he had woken up. He didn’t move, didn’t speak.

He
loved
me?

No. No, no, no. He couldn’t love me. Only pain and suffering would result from loving me. He was breaking his own rule: no expectations. Well, love came with expectation, and with expectation came disappointment. Lucas didn’t expect things. He lived in the moment. Thrived on adventure. Took risks. Saw color and beauty in the world on the grayest days. Helped those in need without a second thought.

And he challenged me to do all those things. During our time together, he’d grabbed me by the hand and refused to let go. He showed me there could be beauty in mayhem, just like the day Lucas and I drove through the streets of Sorrento and along the Amalfi Coast. I hadn’t wanted to, but he pushed me to see things in different ways and to try new things.

He showed me the color in life, and I broke my own rules: no guys, no distractions, keep everyone out.

I let him in, and I fell in love.

My heart beat faster at this revelation.
Oh, dear sweet, Jesus. I love him.

Feeling him beside me, my heart swelled like it had when he’d been inside me. He was a part of me now, our puzzle pieces snapped and locked together.

Panic bloomed in my chest. Loving me came with the possibility of uncertainty, anguish, sadness, worry, grief—the list went on and on. I wouldn’t do that to him. I loved him far too much for any of my baggage to touch him, ruin his chance at a future. I had to save him from me.

Slowly, I pulled my leg from beneath his, sliding it off the bed. My foot touched the floor. I paused…held my breath…waited for him to wake up….

Lucas stayed still.

Carrying on with my plan, all I needed to do was lift his arm up; then I could slip off the bed. I took his fingers in my hand with a whisper’s touch. At the same time I pulled his arm upward, I rolled away, my knees hitting the floor with a quiet thud.

Lucas stirred, grasping the pillow I’d been using. He hugged it to his body and muttered my name. “Sophia?”

I froze.

He squeezed the pillow a few times and fumbled the blanket with his feet, but his eyes never opened.

I kneeled at the bedside for a long time, afraid if I moved, he’d wake up. He looked so peaceful. The faint lines that creased his forehead were smoothed away. His cheeks were a little flushed; I had to fight the urge to run my fingers over them.

A door slammed down the hall. I flinched, holding my breath. I had to leave now, before he woke up. I stood, tears trickling down my face. I didn’t want to go, but I had to. For him.

Quietly, I dressed and haphazardly threw my belongings into my suitcase. The pinch in my heart was more like a stab wound by the time I slipped on my shoes. With my bags ready at the door, I went to the desk drawer and pulled out a pen and pad of paper.

I tore the paper from the pad and folded it in half. I wrote Lucas’s name on the outside and walked over to the bed. Laying the note on the pillow he wasn’t using, I whispered, “
Ciao
, Lucas.”

My flight home wasn’t scheduled until tomorrow, which gave me another day to be angry, sad, and mopey in my hotel room. Early yesterday morning, I checked into a hotel close to the Naples airport. I didn’t want to go back to the Hotel Suite Esedra, fearing Lucas might track me down there. Thankfully, Naples was a big city, easy to get lost in.

Hiding under the covers in my room, my plan for the day was the exact same one from yesterday: stay in bed, cry, and eat copious amounts of gelato.

But no matter how much ice cream I packed away, how many tears I shed, nothing filled the hollowness inside me.

I’d lost count of the times Lucas called and texted; to say a lot would have been an understatement. I had at least ten voice mail messages from him, which I couldn’t bring myself to listen to.

I thought once I’d left, put some distance between us, I’d feel better. I wasn’t sure leaving had been the right answer. My head was foggy and clouded with so many “what ifs.” Each minute that ticked by, it became harder to breathe. All the unknown variables and unanswered questions were a growing cloud of suffocating toxic gas, and I was lost inside.

I needed help. I didn’t know what to do.

I sat up in bed and set my dish of mint chocolate chip gelato on the bedside table. Patting the blankets, I searched for my phone. Even at twenty-two, I still needed my mom. I needed to hear her voice and have her tell me everything was going to be all right. Maybe even Nonna would be home and I could talk to her, too.

Untangling my cell from the sheets, I swiped the screen, flipped through my contacts, and tapped on “Mom.”

It rang a few times and then she answered, her voice thick with sleep. “Sophia? What is it? Is everything okay?”

“Hi, Mamma.” I hadn’t called her that since I was in junior high.

“Now I know something’s wrong. Spill it, Sophia,” Mom commanded, her voice no longer burdened with sleep.

My throat closed up tight as I tried not to cry. I’d done so much freaking crying in the last day, I was surprised I had any tears left to shed.

“I miss you, Mamma. I’m just ready to come home.”

“I miss you, too,
Patatina
. But I know there’s something more here than just homesickness. I can hear it in your voice. And the whole time you’ve been gone, you’ve never once called me at one in the morning. You have always been mindful of the time difference, so tell me what’s really going on.”

Dammit. I didn’t remember the time difference.
“Sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I’m glad you did. It’s good to hear your voice,” she comforted. “Now talk, Sophia.”

I took a calming breath.
Just rip the Band-Aid off.
“I met someone.”

For a moment, there was silence on the line.

“Mom? You still there?”

She cleared her throat. “Um, yeah. You met someone?”

“Yeah.”

“So, is this the phone call where you tell me you’re not coming home? That you’re renting a little flat and moving in with some Italian man who barely knows English but knows you perfectly well in other ways?”

A smile broke through my sadness. “Not exactly, Mom,” I chuckled. “But I did meet someone. An American. He’s from California. And, no, I am coming home tomorrow. No flat. No Italian guy who knows me in
other
ways.”

Nope. None of that. Just an American man who knows me in every way.

I heard Mom’s sigh of relief come through the phone. “So you’re moving to California, then?”

“No, Mom! Will you stop making stuff up? Lay off the romance novels, will you? Does that even sound like something I’d do?”

“Then talk to me,
Patatina
. What’s his name?”

“Lucas. Lucas Walsh. He owns his own software company in San Diego.”

“Oh, I get it now.” Mom’s voice was calm and soothing, knitted together with understanding. “Tomorrow, you part ways.”

“Yeah. But that’s not all.”

“What do you mean?”

I grabbed one of the pillows, hugged it to my chest, and got comfortable with my back against the headboard. “He was willing to come to St. Louis with me.”

“Just like that? Pick up his life in California and move? I’d say that boy has it bad for you as well.” She laughed.

“He went with me when I met Martino. He knows about Graziana and Dad. He knows that it could happen to me, too. He said he wants to go with me when I get tested.”

“Sounds like a pretty awesome guy.”

You have no idea.
“I love him, Mom.”

“I can tell.” Even though I couldn’t see her, I knew there was a smile on her face. I could feel it. “So what’s the problem?”

“I love him so much, Mom, that I had to set him free. He deserved so much more than I could ever give him.” I could feel the monster that had clawed its way out of my chest after Pen’s funeral stirring again. “I can’t put his future at risk. He needs to find someone who can promise him a lifetime of happiness, not pain and suffering.”

“I don’t know where I went wrong.”

“What?” I snapped. Was she even listening to me?

“You chastise me for having romanticized ideals of love, but you’re right there with me.”

I shook my head. No, I wasn’t. I did what had to be done. Love meant sacrifice. In order for Lucas to be happy, I had to take myself out of the equation. I was no longer a variable that could wreck his life. “If I’m sick, Mom, he can’t have a normal life with me.”

“But what if the test tells you something different?”

Claws scraped against my insides. “It’s too late,” I choked.

“I’m sorry,
Patatina
. I wish I could wave a magic wand and show you the future. But I’m only your mom, not a fairy godmother. I’ve always wondered why godmothers were given the wands when a mom is on call night and day. Do you know how many times I’ve wanted a goddamn wand? Every scraped knee, every nightmare, every time you were scared of a storm, every temper tantrum—”

“I never threw temper tantrums,” I interrupted.

“Okay, that one was for Nonna. But my wand would work on her, too.”

Laughter, deep in my belly, stilled the angry monster clawing at my throat. “Leave my Nonna alone.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” She paused for a minute; then her voice changed from joking to somber. “I know this hurts, Soph, but the pain will fade. Sadly, though, I can tell you it will never disappear. Your first love leaves a deep mark on your soul, and when that person’s gone, the ache is permanent. You just grow to accept it as a part of who you are, because they’re a part of you. Always.”

I held back my tears with every ounce of strength I could muster. “I know why moms don’t get magic wands. Because you’re real. You have words, and arms, and lips, and a heart. Words to speak the truth in love, arms to hug and protect, lips to kiss away sadness, and a heart with the capacity to love endlessly. Moms don’t need magic wands with that kind of arsenal.”