Page 148 of Can't Always Get What You Want

He shrugs one shoulder. “I figured one of us had to be the adult.”

My jaw drops. “You’re not mad anymore?”

Because the last I checked, he’d stormed out of the restaurant bar and was cold to me when I texted him, wanting to talk it through.

“Oh, I’m pissed,” he says cheerfully, pulling out takeout containers. “But I’d rather be fed and pissed than hungry and pissed. Bad combination. And if we’re gonna talk about what happened, I’d prefer to do it while I’m eating.”

He does? “You do?”

I stand staring, afraid to move.

Luca glances over his shoulder as he plates our food, that maddeningly calm smile still tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, I do.

He is being way too calm; I’m not sure I can trust it. He shouldn’t be thiskind. Thisfunny. Thisgood.Not after what I did. Not after the way I handled everything with my brother, whom I haven’t spoken to since.

“You left me on read for two days!” I blurt out.

He shrugs. “That was me being mature and avoiding sending a text I’d regret.”

“Like what?” I inch forward, lured by the rich smell of ramen. “You wanted to tell me to suck it? ‘Nova, hope you choke on your guilt?'”

Luca lets out a low chuckle. “I would never tell a woman to suck it.” He pauses and winks. “Unless of course it’s a different context. One with less crying—and more nudity.”

I take the bowl, grateful for the distraction. The ramen smells incredible—spicy, hearty, and scrumptious—and I plop down on a barstool to share with him, half-hiding behind the noodles as I inhale the steam. “God, if you ever break up with me, please at least do it over ramen. I might survive.”

Luca glances over at me, arching his brows. “We’re dating now?”

“I—I…” I stammer. “That’s not what I meant.”

For a while, it’s quiet. The kind of quiet that’s filled with chewing and the clink of chopsticks. After a short while, Luca sets his bowl down, leans back on his stool, and hits me with the hard talk:

“You ready to talk about it?”

I freeze mid-bite, a noodle dangling from my lips, hanging limply like a lifeline.

I inhale it with a slurp.

“I—yeah.” I nod. “I guess.”

“You don’t have to give the perfect speech,” Luca adds, voice gentler now. “Just tell me what scares you.”

I push my bowl away, not so hungry anymore.

Wipe my palms on my thighs and exhale. “You.”

You scare me.

He blinks. “Me?”

“Yes. But not because you aren’t wonderful—but because I’m not.” I’m callous and flighty and clearly a flight risk. Can I be trusted?

Luca watches me giving me the space to process my thoughts before I speak.

“I either sabotage relationships or run before they have a chance to go wrong on their own.”

I let out a shaky breath, fingers twisted in the hem of my sweater. “I saw the way you looked at me after Gio walked in. Like I’d betrayed you.” My voice cracks. “I hated that. I hated hurting you.”

Silence stretches out between us.

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