Текст книги "Crazy for Him"

Автор книги: Sofia Tate

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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 6 страниц)

“I know. I feel the same way.”

I hold her hand tighter as we reach the churchyard, stopping so we both can buy flowers from the vendor at the gate.

I grip her hand tighter as we make our way to the back of the church where the cemetery is. Quietly, we walk to the gravestone that sits in the shadow of a giant oak tree.

I smile at the sight of the flowers that Petra has planted at the foot of the stone. She wipes the dirt from the etched letters, spelling out our daughter’s name, OKSANA VERONIKA NOVOTNA, and the dates of her birth and her death, only seven days apart.

I kneel down on the soft grass as Petra begins to pull the errant weed here and there from between the flowers.

I trace the engraving of my daughter’s name with my fingers as a form of greeting. “Hello, my darling. I’m so sorry I haven’t visited you for so long. I needed to go away, but you never left my mind or my heart, and you never will. I hope one day you can meet a very nice woman named Luciana. She’s very funny and beautiful. Just know that I miss you and I love you. Daddy loves you very much.”

A warm hand settles onto my shoulder. “I miss her too. We’ll never know why, will we?”

I place my hand over hers, exhaling deeply. “No, we won’t. And I feel so badly for neglecting her.”

“It’s all right, Tomas. You’re here now. And one day, you’ll come here with Luciana and I’ll bring Andrej so she can meet them both.”

I swallow past the lump in my throat. “I would like that very much. The flowers are so beautiful, Petra. Thank you.”

She squeezes my shoulder in gratitude. I slowly rise to my feet, stretching my legs. I lean over and kiss the cold marble of my daughter’s grave. I watch as Petra does the same.

Then I tuck her hand once more into the crook of my elbow. “Let’s go home.”

We turn and walk to the gate, turning left to head back down the hill as the sun sets behind us. Petra is now holding my hand at our sides instead of leaving it in the crook of my elbow, looser and lighter in feel. We glance at each other and unexpectedly give each other warm smiles. We pick up the pace down the hill, my head held high, my shoulders back, determined to get home as soon as I can so I can book my flight home to New York City. And it is home for me now, because that’s where Luciana is. I just hope she’ll forgive me and take me back, because if she doesn’t…I can’t even fathom the thought.

*  *  * Lucy

At home

Two weeks later…

With my head on my mother’s shoulder, she smooths back my hair soothingly over and over. I hum contentedly, the first time all day when I don’t feel nauseous. The term “morning sickness” is a total misnomer. I’ve been sick every day since I found out I was pregnant.

We’re sitting on the couch getting ready to watch Downton Abbey. My father sits on the other side of me reading a magazine, his left hand holding my right. He’s not keen on the show, but he’s been very protective of me ever since I told them I was pregnant.

I was truly blown away by their reaction to my news. Not that I really needed to say the words. A parent can guess something’s up when their daughter pukes up her guts into the toilet morning, noon, and night. They even asked me if I really wanted the baby, being the open-minded parents they’ve always been. But I told them with one-hundred-percent knowledge that yes, I want this baby, even though I’m only twenty-five.

I lean over to grab the glass of my ginger ale from the coffee table.

“I’ll get it, sweetheart,” my father says, reaching for my phone.

“No, Daddy, I actually wanted the ginger ale.”

“Oh, um…of course,” he stumbles. He takes the glass and hands it to me.

I take a few small sips and give it back to him, watching him placing it on the table.

I know why my father stammered. Basically, Tomas Novotny is persona non grata in the Gibbons house. It slipped his mind that I’ve stopped checking my phone every ten seconds for any texts or emails from Tomas. I ended the madness a week after he left. I haven’t heard from him since he took off. I don’t know where he is, if he’s still in the Czech Republic or if he’s back in New York.

Just as the familiar Masterpiece theme music fills the room, the intercom buzzes.

“Who the bloody hell can that be?” my father asks, very annoyed.

“I’ll get it,” my mother offers.

“No, love, stay. You watch your program. I’ll go,” my father declares.

He slowly rises from the couch and walks out of the living room. Because we live in an open loft, it’s hard not to eavesdrop.

So when I hear my father start to argue with someone over the intercom, and the person on the other end has a foreign accent, I immediately jump to conclusions, that it could be Tomas waiting downstairs at the front door asking to be let in.

And then I hear the accented voice say, “Mistehr Gibbons, please. I vahnt to talk to Luciana.”

Fuck. It is Tomas.

“Are you mad? There’s no way I’m letting you up, you bastard!” he shouts back.

I jump to my feet as my mother starts to plead with me. “Honey, don’t. Let Daddy handle this.”

But I ignore her and slowly make way to the door. I grab my father’s arm. “It’s okay, Daddy. Please let him up. I just want to get this over with.”

He stares at me for a full minute, and then presses the buzzer.

We wait together, listening for the elevator. Once we hear the footsteps, my father opens the door, revealing Tomas in a black crewneck sweater under a leather jacket, jeans, and sneakers.

He looks my father straight in the eye. “Hallo, sir. Thank you for letting me up.” I can tell he’s been in his home country with his accent noticeably stronger now.

Oh fuck me. The Wall…just as broad and strong as ever, maybe even more now since I haven’t seen it for so long.

“It wasn’t me. You can thank my daughter for that,” he snaps in return.

Finally, Tomas turns his eyes to me, soft and apologetic.

“Luciana, can I speak with you? Please.”

I give him a hard stare, letting him stew. It’s the very least I can do without resorting to physical violence. But at the same time, I want to jump into his arms and kiss him until I can’t breathe. The sight of him sends electrical pulses to every nerve ending in my body, my heart pumping faster from the raw need to have him hold me.

But being me, I put up a wall as a defense mechanism to let him know it won’t be that easy to get back into my good graces.

Be strong, Gibbons. Don’t look at The Wall. Look at his eyes. His brilliant blue eyes.

Oh hell, I’m so fucked.

“Fine,” I snap at him. “But you’ve only got two minutes. Downton Abbey is on and I’m missing it.”

“Yes, of course,” he replies sheepishly.

I lead him back to my room, my father calling out, “Luciana, we’ll be here if you need anything.”

I turn back and give him a simple nod. “It’s okay, Daddy. I’ve got this.”

I step into the doorway and take in the view of Tomas sitting in my desk chair. I shut the door behind me and sink onto my bed.

Sitting up straight? Check.

Hands clenched together in my lap? Check.

Eyes directly on him? Check.

Ready to give him hell? Oh fuck yes!

I take a deep breath. “You have exactly two minutes.”

He clears his throat. “I used to be married.”

My mouth drops, eyes widen like saucers, and my heart drops into my stomach from the shock.

What in the holy fuck…

Is he joking?

I dig my nails into my palms and close my eyes firmly, biting my lower lip to keep myself from crying.

I don’t understand. Any of this.

Finally, I open them again, release my hands, and exhale deeply. “Go on. Please.”

“Her name is Petra. She was my childhood love. We got married when we were eighteen. We were very happy. I was helping my father on our family farm, she was an assistant teacher in the school where my mother works. More than anything, we wanted to have children.”

I watch as he looks up to the ceiling and shuts his eyes. Then he reverts his gaze back to me.

“A year after we were married, Petra got pregnant. We were so excited.”

I’m stunned with surprise. I can’t move. I can’t breathe.

Oh God, he has a kid? I can’t…I don’t…this is just too fucking much.

Breathe. Just breathe and let him continue.

He pauses. “It was a girl. Oksana. She was so beautiful. Green eyes like her mother. My blonde hair.”

Tomas runs his hands over his face. His voice turns rough. “A week after she was born, she stopped breathing during the night.”

Oh, no…oh, Tomas…baby…

He shakes his head over and over, holding up his hands helplessly. I can hear his voice choking up. “No explanation, nothing. There was nothing wrong with Petra when she was pregnant. No signs that anything was wrong with Oksana. After she died, the police investigated us for everything including child abuse. It was horrible. It broke us. Petra and me. We couldn’t handle it. So we divorced and I left everything. My parents, my country. I just needed to escape.”

I clamp a hand over my mouth, pivoting my head to the side. I can’t look at him.

Oh my God. I am the biggest bitch on the planet.

I let the tears fall freely now, wiping them from my face. I still can’t look at him. “I am so sorry, Tomas,” I whisper.

He nods in acknowledgment. “After I left, I wandered. Found work where I could. I picked grapes on a vineyard in New Zealand. Learned how to shear sheep in Australia. I travelled the world running away from my past. Then, when I lived in Kiev, I catalogued CDs and albums at a radio station that played classical music. I liked it there since the Czech and Ukrainian languages are both Slavic in nature, and I knew the Cyrillic alphabet already from learning Russian in school, so I got along fine.”

I leaned in closer to him. I didn’t know where this was going, but he captured my attention, and I wanted to hear more.

“One day, this older woman came in to be interviewed. She was a famous soprano back in the thirties and forties. Katerina reminded me of my grandmother, and she said I looked like her son who died from cancer. She took me under her wing. I lived in her house rent free and in return, I’d run errands for her, do some repair work around the house. Then one morning, she was playing a Puccini record and I started humming along with it when I was changing a lightbulb in her chandelier. She made me sing something, and I amazed myself when I heard how powerful my voice was. Then she had some professors from Kiev Conservatory train me, and when they thought I was ready, they helped me with my application to the Gotham Conservatory, and that’s how I ended up in New York City.”

I lean back on the bed, a bit calmer, but still anxious to hear what was next. “Thank you for sharing that with me. I appreciate it. But why did you leave me like that without any explanation?”

Tomas pulls my desk chair closer to me. “The reason I went back home was to give myself closure with Petra and Oksana. It’s been so many years and I just felt before I could move on with you, I needed to say good-bye to my past.”

I clench my fists, fighting the desire to be mad after what he’s just said to me. “I understand that. I just wish you’d told me all this. I didn’t know what to think. You never called or emailed. I was a fucking wreck.”

Suddenly, Tomas shoots up from the chair and falls to the floor at my knees, taking my hands in his. “Luciana, I am so sorry. I just needed to keep you separate from everything that was going on with me back home. I put you away in a box and kept you safe. I know that probably sounds ridiculous…”

I shake my head. “It doesn’t. In a weird way, it kind of makes sense. But would an email have killed you?”

He smiles briefly at my admonition. “I know. Please tell me you forgive me, because I want to be with you for the rest of my life.”

I pull my hands from his so I can caress his face, running my fingertips softly over his eyebrows, his aquiline nose, his chiseled lips. He holds his head up to me in offering, allowing me to continue with my ministrations, reveling in the feel of my hands on him again after so long.

I can’t believe he’d been carrying all this pain. Tears form again in the corners of my eyes.

This man…and all I did, berating him for keeping things from me. I wouldn’t know where to start imagining what he’s been through.

And I was so selfish, thinking it was about me, my weight, the way I talk.

It’s not always about you, idiot.

He is so lovely. He is my home, and he’s come back to me.

I smile back at him so widely, his face now mirroring mine.

He opens his mouth to speak, his voice raw and rough. “I love you, Luciana.”

I let the tears fall freely now. “That’s good because I love you too, Prague Boy.”

Tomas envelops my face in his hands and kisses me softly and deeply.

When we finally come up for air, he caresses my face with both hands, his eyes roaming over me. “Thank you for giving me another chance. I can’t wait to start my life with you. We’re going to have beautiful babies.”

He gets a distant look in his eyes, imagining our future children.

I clear my throat. “Yeah…about that…”

“What?”

“We kind of put the cart before the horse.”

“What does that mean?”

I shake my head. “It means that we kind of did things out of order. You know the standard protocol is first you get married, then you pop out the kids.”

“Yes.”

“Well…” I take his hand and place it over my belly.

His eyes pop out of my head. “Are you pregnant?”

A huge grin takes over my face. “Yup.”

He starts to tremble. “But…but…when did you find out?”

“Right before you left. Well, I suspected, but I wasn’t sure. You bailed on me—”

A confused look crosses his eyes.

Oh right. Idiom. “It means you left me behind, and then I found out for sure.”

A look of horror crosses his face. He takes a step back, running his right hand over his face and his hair. “Oh.”

He’s kidding, right? That’s all I get?

“’Oh?’ All I get is ‘oh’?”

“I just…it’s just,” he stumbles, “…a lot.”

“Yeah, I would say so,” I reply, my voice rising in frustration. “You do want this baby, don’t you?”

Tomas looks at me directly, his eyes blank, his face pale. “I have to go,” he mumbles.

What the fuck…

I quickly take two steps toward him, grabbing his arm. “Please don’t go,” I beg him. “I’m sorry, I know this was a shock, and after everything you just told me…we need to talk. Please stay, baby.”

“I need some time, Luciana,” he whispers.

Well, that’s pretty clear. He’s done with me and I’ll be a single parent.

But no way in hell am I letting him see me break down because of him.

“Go then,” I whisper in return.

He gives me one last glance before walking out the door. I stand paralyzed as I hear him exchange words with my parents, the front door slamming behind him.

Within a minute, my father is standing in my room.

“Are you all right, love?”

Not by a fucking long shot.

I rush toward him, a fresh set of tears streaming down my cheeks. “Get out of my way, Daddy. I’m going to throw up.”

*  *  * Lucy

Babies “R” Us

Union Square

One week later

I stare mesmerized at the electric double breast pump.

“That is one scary motherfucker.”

My mother looks around me. “Luciana! There are children here,” she hisses at me in admonition.

Fuck, she’s right.

I pick up the breast pump, taking it all in.

“I love you, sweetheart, foul mouth and everything. But once you have a child, you need to be more mindful of your preferred vocabulary,” she informs me.

“I know, Mom. I still can’t believe this is happening.” I gesture to the machine in my hand. “Put this one down.”

We’re walking around making a list of things to put on my baby registry. I mindlessly pick up a variety pack of pacifiers, letting it drop just as quickly back onto the shelf out of my hands.

I sigh to myself. This is something I should be doing with Tomas.

A warm arm encircles my shoulder. “He’ll come around, sweetheart,” my mother reassures me.

I lean into my mother’s side, taking in the comforting scent of her favorite Estee Lauder perfume.

“I know, Mom. I just wish he would understand that we’re okay now. I’m not going anywhere and he can trust me with his feelings. I can help him, but he’s still holding back from me. I love him so much.”

“I know you do. You just need to be patient. And he’s the perfect man for you.”

I smile to myself. “Yeah, he is.” I pull back from my mother, glancing around the store. “I’ve decided I want to know the sex of the baby beforehand,” I mention casually. “I need to know so I can decorate the nursery with the right colors.”

“You could always go gender neutral and use a soft yellow color palette.”

“I don’t want to be surprised. I’ve had enough surprises for one lifetime,” I mumble, then let out a long yawn.

She squeezes my shoulder. “I think we’ve had enough for one day, sweetheart. Let’s go home.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty wiped. I’d love a bath.”

“And we’ll order in some Chinese.”

“Perfect.”

We walk out of the store and turn the corner when something tall and broad bumps right into me.

“Hey, asshole—” I shout, and then just as quickly, my mouth drops.

“Hallo, Luciana.”

I look up into Tomas’s deep blue eyes now looking at me with concern, his hands holding my shoulders firmly. “I’m so sorry. Are you all right?”

I smile for a second, recalling this is how we first met. I shake like a nervous schoolgirl, so happy to see him. I want to reach out and grab him and kiss him, but I restrain myself to let him make the first move.

Patient. Just like Mom said. Be patient.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. What are you doing here?”

“I just had a meeting with Professor Waltz at the Conservatory. I needed his advice.” He turns to my mother. “Hallo, Mrs. Gibbons.”

She acknowledges him in a civil manner, short and succinct. “Tomas.”

“Luciana, could we talk?” he asks me carefully.

“Sweetheart, why don’t I go home and order our dinner? I think you and Tomas need some time together alone,” my mother offers.

I nod in gratitude, leaning in to peck her on the cheek. “I think that’d be good. I’ll see you in a bit.”

She gives Tomas a final “Don’t mess with my only child” look and walks toward the subway station entrance.

My feet are killing me. “Let’s go sit down.”

We cross the street into Union Square Park, his left hand on the small of my back, leading me, protecting me, and I find I like it.

He steers me toward the first empty bench. “How have you been? Are you still throwing up?”

I sigh, leaning back into the wood. “Not as much. My doctor gave me some anti-nausea meds that have helped.”

He gently takes my hand into his and takes a deep breath. “Luciana, I’m so sorry for how I behaved the last time I saw you, leaving you like that. I’m so embarrassed. It was just such a shock, you know.”

I nod, exhaling from relief at his words. “I can imagine. You weren’t expecting to hear that.”

“Not at all.”

I grip his hand tighter. “And I’m sorry for not being more sensitive about it, especially after what you told me about Petra and the baby. I wasn’t thinking clearly, just laying it on you.”

“It’s okay, my love. It was an odd day, seeing you again after I’d left like that. You had every right to your feelings.”

I want to cry at the sound of him calling me “my love” again after so long, but I keep myself in check. I move in closer to him until our thighs touch. He coils an arm around me, and I snuggle into his hard, strong body, the body of the man I’ve missed more than I realize.

I sigh contentedly. “Let’s just start over, baby. One day at a time.”

“I would like that very much,” he replies in a raw voice, choked with emotion.

We sit quietly for a few minutes. I need to gather my nerve to ask him the one question I need answered.

“Tomas?”

“Yes?”

I swallow in my throat. “Are you happy about the baby?”

I sense his head turning into me, his hot breath on my ear. “I can’t wait to meet our baby, darling. Does that help?”

Shifting toward him, I place my lips over his and kiss him ever so softly, just enough so he knows I never stopped loving him or wanting him. “More than you know.”

I lean my head back into the crook of his shoulder as his arm holds me tighter, savoring this quiet moment together while watching New Yorkers rush by going about their daily lives, the sounds of the city forming a cacophony around us. But we sit quietly together in our cocoon, reveling in the feel of each other, finally together, ready to start anew.

*  *  * Tomas

Tribeca

Two weeks later

Calm. Remain calm. Just breathe.

I couldn’t wait another day to do this. Luciana and I have talked every day since I saw her in Union Square, and I’ve gone with her to meet her doctor, who is very nice and friendly, which I like. And I probably came at the wrong time, judging by the look on Luciana’s father’s face when he opens the door.

“Tomas,” he sighs, “you’ve lived in New York City long enough to know that New Yorkers call ahead before they stop by someone’s home. We’re about to sit down to dinner.”

Shit. This is not starting out well.

“I apologize, sir. I promise to keep this short. I just need to see Luciana.”

He gives me another pointed look and exhales. “Fine. Come with me.”

I follow Mr. Gibbons to their dining area where Luciana is sitting at the table with her mother. She instantly jumps up from the table, rushes to me, and kisses me softly on the lips.

“Hi, baby. What’s going on?” she asks. I know she’s nervous because her eyebrows are narrowed and her hands hold tightly onto my forearms.

“May I speak to you privately?”

“Of course.”

She takes me by the hand and leads me to her room, shutting the door behind her.

“Please sit,” I ask of her, pointing to the bed.

Her lovely blue eyes look me over, trying to figure out what’s going on. “Okay,” she replies suspiciously.

She does as I ask. I move closer to her, looking her directly in the eyes.

“Luciana, I want you to know again how sorry I am for how I left you like that…”

She tilts her head at me curiously. “Tomas, it’s all right. We’re past that now.”

“And I know we’ve had our ups and downs.” I gesture with my hand resembling the thing that I don’t know the name of in English.

She laughs and smiles. “A roller coaster.”

“Yes, it’s been a roller coaster for us. But honestly, I think I would’ve been bored with anyone else. You have brought much joy to my life, and I know that you’re the one I want to be with always.”

I slowly lower myself to the floor, leaving one knee upright. I hear her gasp as I pull the ring box from my jacket pocket, the one my mother gave me.

Her hands are closed over her mouth, and tears are falling down her face. She’s never looked more beautiful.

“Oh my God,” I hear her say muffled by her hands.

“I love you, Luciana. Will you marry me?” I propose to her, not taking my eyes from her face.

“Yes!” she shouts, sinking to the floor to grab me, kissing me again and again.

She holds me closely to her. I can feel her luscious curves shaking in my grip as tears of my own escape my eyes. “Thank fucking God,” I hear her mumble into my neck, and I burst out laughing. I love my Luciana so much. My Luciana with the dirty mouth.

I laugh to myself because she just echoed my own thoughts. “I know. Finally. I’m so happy, darling.”

“Me too. Now, you need to do something for me.”

“Anything.”

“You have to ask my father for my hand in marriage.”

Shit.

I gulp nervously. “Oh, yes, I forgot that part.”

I rise to my feet first, helping my fiancée and future mother of my child to hers. She takes my hand once more to lead me back to the dining area. “Daddy!” she calls out.

I hear him growl in reply. “What? I’m eating.”

“Tomas has a question for you.”

We reach the table, where Mr. Gibbons looks me over with narrowed eyes. “Does he now?”

She pats me on the back. “Good luck, Prague Boy.”

I watch as she sits back down at her place at the table, glancing back at me and giving me a quick wink and smile.

I love that fucking woman.

Oh my God, I caught it. And I love it.