Page 88 of Luca

I’m surprised how much lighter I feel. How incredibly perceptive he’s been. Unlike past appointments when I’d felt angry when I’d left the counselors’ offices. I’d fumed that not only did I waste my time but paid for the opportunity.

“My calendar may be limited in the future, as I have some clients that have been rescheduled. I’d recommend making an appointment on your way out. You can always cancel or move it to a later date if you struggle to manage appointments around life with your children. But I’d hate to not be able to accommodate you in the future because I’m playing catch up.”The hot doc flashes his blue eyes and bright smile my direction, and I blink rapidly, feeling unnerved, and try to regain control of the situation.

“Um, thank you.” I can sense my face start to heat and nearly roll my eyes at myself.What is wrong with you, Jillian?The man has already proven he’s proficient at his job, but you’re fangirling like he’s on the red carpet, not standing in a psychiatry office. “You definitely made me feel as if I’m doing better than I thought I was.”

“All I did was listen today. You’ve done all the hard work. Be proud, Jillian Gellar. I know this hasn’t been easy. But you should be very pleased with how you and your family are coping. Keep your head up. I look forward to seeing you again so we can get to work.”

After making a follow up appointment, I stroll to my car, my pride causing me to feel an inch taller. Ihavecome a long way, but want to keep going in the right direction. And for the first time, in a very long time, I think, maybe Icando this.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Luca

There’s beena spring in my step all day. Taking Myla to that little dance brought me more joy than I have a right to. She looked so sweet with her long dark hair in soft curls, pinned back with a little bow. I’m not sure which was brighter, the yellow dress she wore or her permanent smile.

Seeing as my father was a mafia don, I didn’t attend the Cena Dei Cento Giorni in high school. But this felt like an accidental chance to relive missed opportunities from my youth. To experience a few fortuitous moments in this life as a normal person.

I had no idea if I was supposed to bring flowers to such an event, so I picked up a carnation for her on the way. You would’ve thought I’d brought her a dozen roses the way Jillian and her mother were both beaming at me. It warmed my heart that I could not only do something to make Myla happy, but to give Jillian and Cecilia a moment of delight as well.

As I glanced over at her in my Chevelle, I wondered how much her classmates knew about her father. Wouldthey question who I was? Had I unknowingly placed her in greater danger, taking her to this event? Yet other than a few provocative glances by some of the women assisting with the dance, it was a perfect night. We were pretty much left to ourselves.

I’ll cherish the vision of Myla tossing her head back in glee as her dress twirled around her. My heart melted a little more with each spin about the dance floor. I don’t think the smile fell from her face the entire night. That child is special. Knowing I could do one small thing to lift her spirits filled my chest with pride. An almost fatherly pride.

Raising my palm to my sternum, I rub concentric circles over the steady throb that’s formed. The realization I’ll never have this has caused a dull pain to edge away my elation. Standing in for her dad had made my heart ache for more. Almost in the same way falling for Jillian had tempted me to believe my impossible dreams could become a reality.

Despite the risk.

The workday is almost done, and I decide to set up the table and chairs for my hot date with Jillian tomorrow. I’m sure dinner in my shop isn’t her idea of romantic, but I still have to be careful. And whether it’s take-out at my shop or not, I plan to make tomorrow unforgettable.

Grabbing the white lace tablecloth Maria had loaned me, I head to the back room to find the small round table we use for sit downs with new clients who visit the shop to review special orders. Scoping out the area, I find a corner of the room away from the machinery, where I can set up.Ah. It won’t look too conspicuous here, sitting outside of the private storage room where I protect my artwork. Opening the lock, I peer inside. Filled with self-satisfaction, I decide to let this be the backdrop to our meal.

Even though dinner isn’t until tomorrow evening, I can’t concentrate for all of this nervous energy. It’ll be easier to relax if I take care of this now and don’t risk the day getting away from me.

I frown considering she might be disappointed eating here versus a restaurant. Yet, I still have to cover our tracks. I’ve taken enough chances lately and can’t risk anyone connecting her and the children to me. So, I’ll order an Uber to bring her here when it’s time. Luckily, Luigi’s wife, Maria, has offered to prepare our dinner and deliver it here so it will stay warm.

Luigi was always a close friend, but his wife has surprisingly become a big part of my inner circle. Visiting their home in the evenings to check on Antonia and Mimmo often leads to a late-night glass of wine or cup of tea after my sister and nephew have gone to bed. Honestly, having Maria in my life feels like I have a small piece of my mother back.

Looking up, I see George stroll by with his big lunch cooler. Pulling the lollipop from my mouth, I hurriedly shout, “George, help me move this table before you go.”

He stops abruptly, his eyes landing on the white lace tablecloth draped over my arm. “What the hell are you up to now?”

“I just need to move this table and chairs. It’ll only take a minute and then you can head out.”

George looks about the warehouse as if he’s going to try to recruit someone else. “Man,” he huffs. “Fess up. What’s going on with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve been flittering around here, whistling and humming to yourself all day.” He places his lunch container on the ground and pushes his hands in his overall pockets. “You’re acting like a guy who’s been hit by the love train.”

My chuckle escapes before I can contain it. “The love train?”

George reluctantly lifts his end of the table. “At first, I thought you were getting laid. But hell, a good-looking guy like you is probably always getting laid. I bet you have ladies waitin’ in every bar. So, it has to be something else.”

“How so?”

“C’mon, Luke. You’ve been grinning like a possum eatin’ a sweet tater around here lately.”

Shaking my head, I laugh out loud and wave for him to come with me to grab the two chairs. If only I was getting laid as often as George thinks.

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