Page 64 of Trouble in Love
The only number I remembered by heart, that I would recall till the day I died, was dialed as I held my breath. “Evie? Is that you?” Polly’s broken voice whispered. God, she sounded awful. Genuinely awful.
“No. Pol. It’s me. Luca. I can’t find my phone… again, and Evie let me use hers to make sure you were okay.”
“Evie let you use her phone?”
“She did, yeah.”
“And she knew you were calling me?” The innocent disbelief in Polly’s voice had a rasping chuckle rattle from deep within my chest. “She did. She’s not happy. But she did.”
“Huh. Wonders never cease.”
“Are you okay?” we said in tandem. “No,” we both replied, again in perfect unison. Apart from an octave or two, the difference? My words reeked of desperation, Polly’s resignation. Even though, I could still hear the smile in her voice. “I’ve got all day. You go first.”
The speech I rehearsed as I walked from the kitchen, through the lounge, and out onto the sweeping veranda that overlooked the beach—our beach—vacated my brain, forcing me to ad-lib. Not a strong point for a guy who’d suffered as many concussions as me. “Our flight home was … delayed, but we have anotherleaving in a couple of hours. I just wanted to make sure you were okay before—”
“Before you become the next thing I lose? Don’t worry, cowboy. I knew I’d lost you the second I saw you.”
That did not sound good. And it didn’t feel good, either. Actually, it felt like shit. Like someone kicked me right in the nuts with a skate-clad foot. “What do you mean? Who did you lose?”
“Oh, you know, just my mum, my dad, my childhood home, my freedom. The usual.”
My fist, clenched at my side, tapped my thighs. “Why would you—?”
“Luca, I wasn’t by myself at the market,” she sobbed. “My parents and Elias … they were there. They saw what happened. They beat me home, and they didn’t know I was there, and they fought, and Mum pretty much wished me dead, so I got in my car and drove, but I was crying so hard I couldn’t see and…”
Fuck.“Polly, did you have an accident? Where are you?”
“No, I didn’t have an accident. I pulled over before I hit the motorway, and now I’m sitting on the side of the road like a loser crying over shit I lost all over again.”
Before I realized what I was doing, I was taking two stairs at a time, falling over myself to get to Nate’s truck, sitting in the driveway. I had to go. I had to find her.
“Tell me where you are?”
“What? Why?”
“Because I’m coming to get you.”
“What?” she repeated, her pitch rising. “No, you’re not. Your flight. You just said—”
“I know what I said, but I don’t care. Where are you?”
Broken cries, heavy breathing, and little sniffs were the only signs that Polly was still on the phone. That and traffic noise. A lot of traffic noise. “Polly, answer me. Where are you?”
Still nothing. I stopped for a second and thought about what she’d said. “so I pulled over before I hit the motorway, and now I’m sitting on the side of the road like a loser.”I figured she was probably heading back to Sydney, and I knew the way to get there from her place. If she’d pulled over just before the motorway, I could catch her and be by her side in just a few minutes. Where I belonged.
“I’m coming, Polly. Please don’t leave. Just wait. I’m coming.” I tossed the phone onto the lawn, then yelled, “Evie, I have to go. Tell the boys I will meet them at the airport!” Thanking Nate for never listening to his wife and always leaving the keys in the ignition, I jumped in the truck, started her up, and took off in a cloud of dust.
On the road out of Byron Bay, there were two terrifying roundabouts you passed hitting the motorway. One was not too far from Austen farm, and the other was ten or so kilometers away. Luckily for me, and for the clutch I was pretty sure I had destroyed, a little yellow Corolla was resting in the long grass beside the first roundabout. Polly’s cute face popped out of the window as I skidded to a halt behind her, and she was out of the car and running towards me. Even while doing the same, I had no idea what I was about to say. I just knew I needed to be there for her, and that she needed me, too.
God, she looked so beautiful, a real-life fantasy with loose tendrils of her hair floating behind her, then sweeping forward, sticking on her lips and she came to a sudden halt just short of me. I wanted her so bad, my fingers, my bones, ached to touch and hold and love this incredible woman who believed herself so cold and cruel, while possessing so many qualities their exactopposite. “Luca!” It was a guttural cry, equal parts annoyance and relief. “What are you doing here? You’re going to miss your flight—”
“I don’t care.” Taking her flushed face into my hands, I traced the light dusting of freckles along her cheekbones with my thumbs and decided I would never let her go again. Couldn’t. I didn’t just want Polly. I needed Polly. Because I loved Polly. And not like I thought I loved Clara. That was a longing to belong. To have what I thought I should. This was like breathing. Like waking tomorrow or not. The thought of leaving, of never seeing her again tore a hole in my heart I knew would never heal. “Come to the States,” I begged, cutting off the protest I knew was coming off with a kiss. When she melted into me, I kissed down and nuzzled into breathing her the scent I never wanted to be without. “Stay with me. Marry me.”
She froze in my arms, wilted. Sobbed. “Luca, I can’t. We hardly know each other and look at me. I’m a mess.”
Praying it wasn’t the final time, I released my hold, letting her tight, trembling little body slide down my own. When she found her footing on the loose gravel, I reclaimed her face in my hands, wiping her tears with my thumb. “You’re not a mess, you’re perfect. Unapologetically you—“
“That’s not a good thing, Trust me.”
