Chloe’s eyes drifted over to a sweaty Lucca, who was now putting the tools away. What do you want from me? Nothing. She had nothing to offer him. What he wanted or expected from her, she didn’t know, but she did know that he was going to be let down when he found out she had nothing to offer. Chloe just hoped he would let her go in one piece when he found out.
After Lucca put all the supplies away, he sat down beside her to see his hard work come to fruition.
“What do you think, darlin’?”
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.
“It’ll be prettier in the spring when the flowers come back.”
It didn’t matter to her. She loved the way it looked in all stages. She only wished she could have seen it before his mother had died.
“C-Can I ask you a question?”
He turned toward her. “I told you, you can ask me anything, Chloe.”
“What did it look like when your …?” She trailed off, unable to get the question out, afraid it might upset him.
“When my mother took care of it?”
She nodded.
Lucca’s eyes scanned over the expanse of the huge yard. “It just looked fuller, healthier, and even seemed brighter. The majority of the flowers died off with her. I’ve gotten some of them to grow back, but others, I’m still trying.”
She didn’t doubt that one day he would get it to return to what it once was, if not better. The changes she had noticed since the first time she had seen it were drastic.
She loved hearing about his mother. It made him seem more … human. Looking over at him, she only wanted to hear more, hoping it would help her understand why he was the way he was.
“Will you tell me what she was like?”
“Her name was Melissa, and she had blond hair like Maria, and the greenest eyes like Nero. She was the sweetest, kindest person you could ever meet, and everyone loved her. Being home with her children and the garden was all she ever wanted or needed.” His eyes turned darker and his voice became somber. “None of us deserved her, not my father, and especially not me. For her being so sweet, I can’t imagine how it felt for her first child to come out a monster.” He briefly paused before continuing, “But not once did she love me any less, not even when she saw me at my worst.”
Chloe quietly sat there next to him, not knowing what to say to a man who thought of himself as a monster. And there weren’t words to say, nor comfort she could give to help with the loss of his mother. She could tell that he had loved her, but she wasn’t even sure if he knew it deep down, because he only thought of himself as without feelings.
They sat there peacefully for a while, neither one wanting to ruin what was there before them or between them. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed before he spoke.
“I’m going to get cleaned up then start us some dinner. Take your time.”
He was leaving her now, but she needed to tell him something before he did.
“Lucca …?”
He stopped, looking down at her to where she sat in the grass.
It was hard to look away from the ocean of flowers that swayed in the wind, reminding her of waves, to Lucca, but she wanted him to see that she meant every word.
“If she were still here, I think she would be happy with what you’ve done. She would love it out here, just as much as I do.”
It was obvious how much he wanted to reach out and touch her in that moment, but he didn’t, content enough with the words she had given him.
“I think so, too, darlin’.”
Chloe continued to sit there, watching him walk away. With each step he took away from her, she couldn’t help feeling the less beautiful the garden became now.
Twenty-Five
Everything Came at a Price
When the plate of meatballs and spaghetti were set down in front of her, she couldn’t help smiling.
Lucca noticed as he sat down beside her with his own plate. “Is this okay?”
“Yes.” That was the thing. Every day he would make her dinner, and every time it was a meal she liked. However, not once had he asked her what she liked or didn’t. He always strangely knew. “Spaghetti and meatballs is actually one of my favorites.”
He looked pleased. “Well, good. I hope you like it.”
Picking up her utensils, she took a bite of the spaghetti, knowing it was going to be good, but not as good as it tasted the second it was in her mouth. She should have known based on the sole fact that he was Italian.
“It’s the best I’ve ever had.”
“Thank you, darlin’.” Cutting into a meatball, he asked, “What’s your favorite meal?”