Theo spent the night tossing and turning, his mind full of Luca and regrets. Remembering their fight made him antsy, the frustration like an itch behind his breastbone, but remembering the rest of it—Luca’s carefree smile, the assured sweep of his hands over Theo’s body, the remarkable ease Theo felt when they were together—made him sad. Genuinely sad, as if he were grieving a loss. Which was absurd, wasn’t it? They’d only known each other a few days. And yet with Luca he felt a rapport so rare and wonderful he couldn’t bear to let it go. Not yet.
But he didn’t know how to keep it, didn’t know how to move past Luca’s angry demand to be left alone. Didn’t even know whether it was possible. In his experience, people spoke the unvarnished truth when they were angry and Luca had certainly been angry yesterday. Perhaps he really did want Theo to leave him the fuck alone.
By morning, he was no closer to understanding and crawled out of bed groggy and heavyhearted, needing two cups of coffee to kick-start his day. He half hoped Luca might be serving breakfast, but he wasn’t and Theo told himself he was glad. Until he’d decided what to do, it was probably best to stay out of Luca’s way.
In a bid to do just that, he decided to ignore Miranda’s advice about embracing beach life in favor of talking with Jude. Don’s insistence that she needed to sell only supported the snippet of conversation he’d overheard regarding their strained financial and medical situations. Not that he wanted to cut Luca out of the conversation, but ultimately the decision was Jude’s and he figured Don was probably right that she’d rather discuss the facts without her son around. Particularly when she seemed intent on keeping the whole truth from him.
He found her in the hotel kitchen, sitting at a large wooden table working through a meal schedule. Jude was absorbed in her work when he entered, and Theo paused in the doorway, taking the opportunity to study her unobserved. In her late fifties, she looked tired and moved with a listlessness that was no advertisement for the joys of hotel management. He could see why Luca didn’t want to take on the burden, but neither could he shake the idea that had taken shape last night. The Majestic had a spirit it would be a shame to see lost; she got under your skin. Under his skin, if he was being honest.
“Come and sit down,” Jude said without looking up from her work. “You want some coffee?”
Embarrassed at having been caught loitering, Theo jerked away from the doorway. “Sorry,” he said. “And, no, thanks. I’ve just finished breakfast.”
Jude set down her pen and looked up. Dark circles gathered beneath her eyes, her skin sallow. It occurred to him for the first time that she looked rather unwell. “Did Don send you to talk to me?” she said. “He mentioned he’d had a word last night.”
“We talked,” Theo admitted, taking a seat at the table. The old wood felt smooth under his fingertips, the grain soft. He enjoyed the sensation. “And he’s right, it would be a good idea for you and me to talk business, if you have the time?”
“I never have the time, but I guess now’s as good as any.” She smiled. “You enjoying your stay so far?”
“I am.” Or was, until yesterday’s blowup with Luca. He hadn’t imagined it was possible to miss someone you’d only just got to know, but Luca’s loss felt sharp and painful. “It’s a beautiful place, the Majestic has real character.”
“That she does.” Jude’s smile faded and she said, “I know what I should do, Theo. I’m no fool. I just don’t want to do it.”
He spread his hands flat on the table, making a point of meeting her eyes for a few seconds. “What you want is for Luca to take over from you.”
“Did he—?” If anything, her expression grew grimmer. “Did Luca tell you that?”
“No.” Theo decided against mentioning his conversation with Luca. “But it’s easy to deduce—of course you’d want your son to take over the family business.”
She turned her head, lips pressed together. Theo felt a flutter of panic when he noticed a sheen in her eyes. He wasn’t good with other people’s emotions. “He always wanted to,” Jude said after a moment, clearing her throat. “As a boy, when it was just the two of us, he’d always talk about when the Majestic was his. Not only when he was a kid, I mean right up until—” She rubbed a thumb under her eyes. “I’m a little tired this morning, I’m afraid. I didn’t sleep well.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
Jude shrugged as if it didn’t matter, her detachment reminiscent of her son’s. “Has Luca told you why he left?”
“A little.” Holding her gaze was impossible, so Theo let it slip away. Despite their fight, he wanted to give Luca his support. “As a gay man, I understand why he felt he couldn’t stay.”
“Don grew up with some cockeyed opinions, I know that. But he’s tried so hard to connect with Luca over the years, and Luca just won’t—” Her voice cracked and she pressed a hand to her mouth, face crumpling.
Theo’s fingers curled into fists. Shit. Should he go get Don? He was way out of his depth and could feel his heart pounding, hot and uneasy, but he made himself stay, tried to imagine what Grant might say in this situation. Something smooth and charming...? He had nothing. Sweat prickled along his hairline, mouth going dry, stomach twisting.
And then Jude’s bony hand closed around his. “It’s alright,” she said with a watery smile, “you don’t have to console me, honey.”
“I’m not—” He blinked at her, feeling stupid. “I’m not very good at consolation, I’m afraid.”
She squeezed his hand and let go. “I’d hoped he’d change his mind, you see. I’d hoped being here this summer, knowing it was the last, would be enough to make him realize what he was throwing away. And then, when you came, I thought if he could show you what makes the place so special he’d rediscover it for himself.” She sighed, her expression drawn. “Do you think it’s working?”
He wasn’t certain what she wanted him to say, but he guessed the truth was generally the best choice. “I think Luca feels strongly about this place,” he said. “Both the Majestic and New Milton. But I’m afraid I don’t think he’s got any plans to stay.” He darted a glance at Jude’s face, saw the sad set of her mouth. “I’m sorry, but I think Don’s right—you can’t factor Luca into your decision about the future of the hotel. As much as he loves the place, Luca isn’t looking for a home here.” Or anywhere else, apparently. And there was no real reason why that should pinch Theo’s heart, except that sharing a home with someone he cared about was top of his impossible wish list...
Jude didn’t answer, merely nodded as if he were confirming what she already knew, and they sat there in silence until Don came in. He took one look at his wife and his face creased in concern. Theo took the opportunity to retreat, leaving Don to take his place.
He spent the rest of the day exploring New Milton on his own, poking into all the little stores on Main Street—including a used bookstore where he picked up a first edition sci-fi classic for under ten bucks. He bought a postcard of the Majestic for Miranda, which looked like it had been printed twenty years ago, and wrote it while he ate lunch on the boardwalk, letting his gaze roam over the beach.
And there he found Luca, lounging on the lifeguard chair, looking handsome and heroic in his yellow t-shirt. Like a fool, Theo’s stomach gave an adolescent flutter and he indulged in a moment of fantasy. He imagined himself strolling along the beach and Luca jumping down into the sand to meet him with a smile, taking his hand, maybe, in front of the world. In reality, of course, he was uncertain of his reception so didn’t dare get close enough to speak to Luca. The last thing he wanted was a public rejection.
Instead, he headed down to the water’s edge and splashed through the shallows to the far end of the beach where Hanworth Hall perched on the headland. Shading his eyes against the glare, he gazed up at the house, watching white canvas flap in the sun as a marquee was erected in the garden. With the wedding only a couple of days away, he could imagine how excited the happy couple must be feeling. With a twang of envy, he turned away, squinting back past Luca to look at the Majestic standing proud on the opposite headland. Like twin bookends, the two buildings stood sentinel at either side of the bay. It was a shame there was no way to preserve the Majestic, but between Jude’s financial necessities, and Lux Properties’ bottom line, he couldn’t see it happening.
He was still mulling the problem over later that evening. He’d eaten an early dinner at the Rock House and walked back up to the Majestic along the cliff path before it got too dark to see where he was putting his feet. He paused at the gate where he and Luca had first kissed that warm dark night, running his hands over the iron railing. If he closed his eyes, he could see the stars peeking through the canopy of leaves, feel the evening breeze against his skin, and the first brush of Luca’s lips against his own—warm, a little sun-chapped. Soft. His heart gave a low, powerful thrum of recognition. Yes, he thought, I want that. I want more of that. But the chances of it happening again were reducing by the hour, the lump in his chest growing heavier. With Luca, he’d had a taste of his impossible dream and letting that go was even harder than he’d imagined. What a bloody fool he’d been, starting this when it could only ever end one way. Would he never learn?
With a sigh, he opened the squeaky gate and slipped into the garden. It intrigued him, the Majestic’s garden. Grass grew lush and overlong, trees and shrubs spilling out from untended flowerbeds—the sort of place that might conceal a secret door, a passageway into a different time and place. Back, perhaps, to the Majestic’s heyday. Despite his melancholy, the idea made him smile as he took a deep breath of verdant air and wandered away from the hotel and deeper into the garden.
Under one of the old trees he found a weathered wooden chair and dragged it into a patch of fading sunshine, dug out his new vintage book, and settled down to read. What better way to escape his sorrows than by losing himself in a favorite book? Engrossed in the story, he wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but the print was already fading into the gloom when a shadow fell over the page and obscured it entirely. Theo looked up, frowning, and found Luca standing a couple feet away, hands in his pockets. In the dusky light, it was difficult to make out his expression, but the unhappy hunch of his shoulders spoke volumes.
Theo closed his book, braced for Luca to tell him their deal was over, that he didn’t want Theo hanging around anymore. Possibly, that Luca wanted him to leave—that Theo had fucked it all up. He felt sick, stomach cramping in distress. He didn’t want to leave, he didn’t want this to be over.
Luca glanced over his shoulder toward the hotel porch, as if checking they were alone, before he said, “Listen, uh, you wanna take a walk or something?”
With a jolt of relief, Theo shot to his feet, spilling his book onto the grass. He scarcely noticed. “Got somewhere in mind?”
Luca nodded, stooping to retrieve Theo’s book. His eyebrows rose when he saw the cover. “The Stainless Steel Rat?”
“First edition, 1961.”
“It would make a great TV show, huh?”
Theo smiled. “I’ve been saying that for years.”
Luca set the book on the chair, hands retreating into his pockets, and nodded toward the cliffs beyond the garden. “We could head down to the beach, if you like?”
Theo’s pulse kicked up a notch and he nodded, feeling giddy and graceless and not caring at all. “I would,” he said, and Luca smiled.
Scrambling down the steep path in the deepening twilight was a challenge and Theo lost his footing a couple times. But it was okay because Luca was there, he steadied him, and it was fine. Theo didn’t feel stupid or clumsy, he just felt like himself. In fact, he felt wanted. It was a heady sensation.
Once they reached the sand, Luca set off toward the dunes. He didn’t walk far, just high enough that the sand was still warm and dry. There was no one about and the tide was high, white seafoam hissing up the beach a few feet from their toes. They settled down hip to hip and, since Theo didn’t know what to say, he said nothing, letting his presence do the talking.
It must have been enough because after a couple of moments Luca said, “The thing is, I can’t forgive my mom.” He broke off as if the thought was only half formed, as if other, silent words filled the space between them. Perhaps it was easier to tell in the dark, when he wasn’t trying to read the truth in Luca’s face, but Theo could sense those unsaid words. When Luca spoke again, it was to whisper a confession. “I don’t want to forgive her.”
Theo let out a breath, pressed his shoulder to Luca’s. “Have you talked to her about it?”
“About Don? Yeah, back before she married him.” He leaned forward, elbows on knees, dropping his head forward. In the dusky light, Theo could see the vulnerable nape of his neck and had to resist the temptation to kiss him there. For all Luca’s physical prowess, there were moments when Theo wanted nothing more than to hold and comfort him. It was an intoxicating feeling, this protectiveness, both unfamiliar and empowering. It would, he thought, definitely break the rules of their agreement. “After he gave me his bullshit ‘love the sinner, hate the sin’ shtick,” Luca went on, “I—I told her I’d leave if she married him.”
Air left Theo’s lungs in a whoosh. That was one hell of an ultimatum—and it shed some light on Jude’s current predicament.
Luca rubbed a hand through his hair. “So you see why I can’t come back.”
Theo could see why he didn’t want to, but he wasn’t sure it was the same thing as can’t. “You don’t want to back down,” he said. “You drew a line in the sand.”
“And she stepped over it like it didn’t even matter. Like I didn’t matter.”
Theo winced. “I can see why you feel so hurt. It must have felt like quite the betrayal.”
“Yeah.”
“Jude loves you, though. Even I can see that.”
“I know.” Luca said it like it didn’t matter, as if a mother’s love was something unremarkable. Ubiquitous. “But is it enough?”
Wrapping his arms around his knees, Theo rested his chin there and stared out into the dark. He didn’t want to say the wrong thing, but at the same time maybe Luca needed to hear the truth. His truth, anyhow. “My father’s been married four times—his latest wife, by the way, is two years younger than me. My mother wasn’t... Let’s just say, she was more interested in handbags than nappies, so after the divorce I went to live with my dad. He’s old school South London, thinks men should be men and children don’t need coddling with unnecessary things like...like attention or affection. Tough love, he calls it.” He smiled bleakly. “It’s certainly tough. Anyhow, I’m not trying to throw a pity party, it’s just that if I had a mother who wanted me around, I might think it was worth some compromises.”
“But on this?” Luca said, turning his head to catch Theo’s eye.
“I don’t know.” That was the honest truth. “My dad, for all his faults, couldn’t care less who I sleep with. In fact—” he grimaced at the memory of a hundred inappropriate jokes “—he’s rather too okay with it.”
Luca snorted. “Parents.”
“They’ll fuck you up, as the poet said.”
“A poet said that?”
“Philip Larkin. You heard of him?”
Luca shook his head. “But he’s not wrong.”
“He’s not. Parents fuck up their kids, those kids fuck up their kids, and so on and so on ad infinitum.”
“What’s the answer, then?”
“Forgiveness, maybe, even where it’s not deserved?” He glanced at Luca, but his gaze was far away, out to sea. “Larkin’s solution was escaping early and not having any kids of your own.”
That made Luca laugh, a real belly laugh, and he unfurled from where he’d been hunched over his legs. “Fuck, that’s bleak.”
“Well. He was English.”
Luca’s laugh faded, but he was still smiling. Too dark, now, to make out his expression, Theo could feel his warmth and wasn’t surprised when Luca reached out to touch his knee. “Sorry for being a dick yesterday,” he said. “I shouldn’t have gotten mad at you. I just—I hate thinking about this shit.”
Theo’s heart swelled with a flood of feeling, warm and tender and inexplicably hopeful given the circumstances. “I’m sorry, too,” he said. “I shouldn’t have pushed. It’s not my business.” And I’ll be gone in a few days and this—whatever this is—will be over. He smiled around the abrupt hollowing in his chest, the deflating of that brief, tenuous hope, and focused on Luca’s hand instead, on his thumb stroking over Theo’s knee. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Six of one, half a dozen of the other, maybe?” Luca looked up. “I want to make it up to you, though.”
Theo could think of several ways and lifted an eyebrow in invitation. “Oh yes?”
“Not like that,” Luca said, although he smiled and his hand ran up from Theo’s knee to his thigh. “Well, not just like that.”
“What then?”
Luca dropped his gaze, like he was nervous. “I, uh—I was thinking... Do you want to come to the wedding with me?”
“The wedding?” It took a moment to process. “You mean, Finn Callaghan’s wedding?”
“My invite says I can bring a plus one.” He peeked through his lashes in a way Theo might have described as shy if that hadn’t been an absurd description for a man like Luca Moretti. “You wanna be my date?”
Ridiculous, how hard his heart pounded, how he couldn’t prevent a telling grin from spreading across his face. “I’d love to,” he said, because there was no getting away from how much it felt like a real date—or how much he wished it were—even when he knew it couldn’t be. “I adore weddings.”
Luca smiled, reaching out to tousle Theo’s hair. “I know.”
“But you don’t.”
“I can put up with it for—” He stopped, licked his lips and looked away. “For the chance to see you all dolled up. I bet you rock a tux.”
“Are you joking?” The idea brought him out in hives and he wiggled his fingers helplessly. “Cuff links? Shirt studs? A bowtie? Tuxedos are a bloody nightmare.”
He wasn’t sure how he expected Luca to react, but it wasn’t by capturing his hand and lifting it to his lips, pressing a kiss to his fingers so soft it made the hair on the back of Theo’s arms stand on end. His breath caught and into the airless silence Luca murmured, “So let me help you dress.”
Theo’s pulse roared. He wanted desperately for this to be real, for Luca’s heart to be beating in tandem with his own, for this to be the start of something and not the end. But he knew too well the dangers of wanting and made himself remember the rules that would keep him safe: no mushy feelings, no expectations. They had five more days.
Forcing levity into his straining voice, air into his empty lungs, he smiled. “Only if you help me undress afterward.”
Luca gave him a comically lascivious look. “You can bet the farm on that, buddy.”