There was no other way to put it.
It felt right.
I'd spent my entire life without someone by my side, in my home. But after just a few days with Romy there, I couldn't imagine it any other way.
I couldn't stand the thought of going back to how it was before, to not come home to her, cook with her, eat with her, go to bed with her.
I didn't have long, but I wanted to take every spare moment I could find before we found Celenia to prove to Romy that we could make this work, that what we had was something special, that I wanted a future with her. And not just a couple days or a couple weeks.
I wanted a forever kind of thing.
With her.
Chapter Thirteen
Romy
I couldn't stop thinking about the Disney movie Hercules.
It was one of the few movies we had lying around when we were kids, and I remembered countless hours of Celenia asking my mom to put it on again it so she could watch it while my mother and I pleaded with her to watch The Little Mermaid or Snow White because we were so tired of hearing her belt out the words to all the songs.
But the
songs, in particular, were what were on my mind as the days ticked down to when the next container was supposed to arrive.
In particular, the one Megara sings about not wanting to say she's in love.
While the Muses are singing along like 'Who the hell do you think you're fooling, girl?'
I guess it was on my mind because I was pretty sure I was falling for Luca.
But I couldn't seem to let myself admit it.
Because, really, what would it accomplish to do so?
We would still be from two completely different worlds. His, one of danger and uncertainty and family and wealth. Mine, one of boringness and safety and lower middle-classness.
A lamb could fall in love with a shark, but how could they ever build a life together with an ocean between them?
And that was another thing.
My work, my apartment, my life was in California. Where I would likely need to take my sister to help her recover, to get her the care she would need to overcome what she may have gone through.
So, yes, I could love him. He could mean a lot to me. But what was the point of voicing those feelings when there was no future for us?
Maybe if I kept it to myself, it would be easier to handle the sting when it was over. Though, to be perfectly honest, I was pretty sure it wouldn't be a sting. It would be like death by a thousand cuts. With some vinegar poured in the wounds just for good measure.
I wasn't sure I had ever truly given much thought to having a future with a man. And if I were to analyze that, I might come to the conclusion that it had a lot to do with my parents' relationship, my father's abusiveness. When the only close male relative of yours was someone who enjoyed beating women down both mentally and physically, how were you ever supposed to nurture a positive, healthy relationship with the opposite sex?
For me, it had always been that at the first sign of discourse—even if I simply didn't agree with his favorite food or movie or sex position—I cut ties. Because I didn't want to argue. I guess my mother's words were still inside me. And a part of me was worried I could bring out the evilness in men.
The crazy thing was, though, that I fought with Luca. We'd both raised voices at each other. We disagreed daily about minute little things. And he, objectively, was an incredibly dangerous man. Some might even call him evil.
Yet I was never afraid around him. I never worried our heated words could lead to something physical, something painful, something that would leave me fleeing for my life in the middle of the night.
That security, it made me want more of it. It made me want to take it, wrap it tightly around myself, and never let it go.
I was terrified of how it would feel to have it pulled away, to hand it back to him because my life was on the other side of the country.