27. Luca

27 /

luca

I had no idea how long I'd been sitting at the table, but my ass cheeks were numb. The limp Caesar salad and cold spaghetti held no appeal. If I couldn't eat Nonna's sauce, I couldn't eat anything, so I got up and scraped the food down the disposal. Day number three with nothing but coffee and water.

The apartment was like a tomb, silent and suffocating. The sun was going down, and since I hadn't turned on any lamps, the living room was a cluster of shadows. The murky light matched my mood, so I picked up my phone and flopped into the recliner. I opened the message chain with Harp and started counting. He'd been gone for almost four days, and since he left, I'd sent seven messages. He'd replied once, right before I sat down to stare at dinner tonight.

HARPER: I've been getting your texts. Wanted to let you know I made it to DC okay, and I'll probably get back to Buffalo over the weekend. Take care.

As he'd asked, I hadn't blown up his phone. I'd tried to give him space, but the tense silence was wearing me down. I was trapped in hell, and he was—what? Hanging out with friends, trying to forget I existed? That was probably unfair, but without any word to the contrary, how did I know what to think? His message hadn't even hinted at affection. How could he not miss me after we'd been together most of the summer?

The bond we'd built was real. We'd cared for each other, and I still cared for him. We'd been on the express train to falling in love, so how could he turn his feelings off as easily as flipping a light switch? I'd done nothing wrong except be stupid. Caleb and I hadn't messed around since we were in college, and now he was married to Daniel. I'd never been a cheater. I couldn't have done that to anyone, especially Harper. No one else could compare to him, so why would I even be interested in sleeping around?

Still, I couldn't deny hurting him. I hadn't meant to, and the guilt of my idiotic mistake weighed me down like a concrete block chained to my feet. The way he'd shut down—the cold, hard look in his eyes when he drove away in the middle of the night—had sliced me open.

I'd never been as happy as I was with Harp, and I'd allowed myself to fantasize about him being my forever man. But it seemed like I wasn't destined to have one of those. I fell for guys who were so absorbed in their own feelings that I became an afterthought. How I felt wasn't a concern because all they could think about was themselves.

I hated to lump Harper into the same category as Caleb, but they'd both treated me like shit. Apparently, I was supposed to be here when, and if, Harp ever decided to speak to me again, and I wasn't supposed to mind waiting in the dark.

After he packed his bag, I chased him downstairs, pleading for him to stay. I begged him to listen to me, but he turned a deaf ear. When he slammed the SUV's door in my face, the world shattered into jagged pieces. I was left to pick up the shards and find a way to hold on until he came home and heard me out.

When it became so dark I could barely see, I got up to turn on a lamp. My body felt heavy, and each step was an effort as I trudged to the bathroom and back, then collapsed into my recliner again. I turned on the TV but muted it instantly. The unfamiliar show held no interest, and I didn't feel like channel surfing. Taking my phone from the side table, I reclined the chair and tried to think of something to send Harper. A message materialized on the screen while I thought about it. My hopes soared, then crashed when I saw the text was from Caleb.

CALEB: I've sent several messages since I got home, but you haven't replied. I'm getting worried. How are things with you and Harper? Daniel and I are fine again, but I won't rest until I hear from you and know everything's back to normal. Let me know if it would help for me to talk to Harper.

I stared at the screen until my eyes hurt. Caleb meant well, but it was time for him to live his own life and let me have mine. His endless questions about Harper grated on my nerves. As tempting as it was, I couldn't blame Caleb for everything that happened because I was the fool who didn't go downstairs to sleep with my boyfriend. But Caleb bore some of the responsibility. If he'd stayed home, Harp and I would be in Maine right now. If Caleb had acted like he possessed half a brain on Saturday morning, he could have helped defuse the situation before it got out of hand.

Maybe I should cut ties with him . I needed to think about it long and hard first. We'd been friends for a long time, and it would be a huge step. Fighting the urge to block him, I set my phone on the arm of the chair. Maybe I'd reply tomorrow, but now, I needed to come up with a text to send Harper.

I must have been lying wrong because my hip hurt like a fucker. I turned over in bed and rubbed it, irritated by the light filtering around the edges of the blinds. What time was it, anyway? I groped for my phone, finding it under the covers—3:27 p.m. on Friday. I opened the messaging app to see if there was anything new from Harper, but no dice. He'd been gone for over five days, and I still didn't know exactly when he was coming back. Yesterday, he sent a text, only the second since he left.

HARPER: Got all your messages. I'm struggling down here.

Really? He was struggling? Well, guess what—I was fucking struggling, too, and I wasn't hanging out with friends leaving Harper wondering if I even cared he was alive. Swallowing my anger, I'd replied immediately.

LUCA: Please come home so we can work things out. There's no point in us both hurting.

No reply. Thanks for the love, Harp.

I was thirsty, but the bottle of water on the nightstand was empty. Since it was the last one I'd brought upstairs, I had to go down to get more. After stopping in the bathroom, I headed to the kitchen. Finding no cold water in the fridge, I grabbed a case of twenty-four bottles and lugged it upstairs. After taking two rest stops along the way, I finally crawled back into bed.

The sour smell of the sheets made me wonder if I should shower, so I lifted an arm and sniffed. Fuck it, no worse than after a hard game, and nobody was around to care. I pulled the covers over my head and stared into the darkness until I fell asleep.