Hold On to Me (37 page)

And she'd cried and asked him to leave.

He got the message loud and clear.

So he'd left her bedroom, fed the cat, let the furball out and then back in, and crashed. Not that he'd had much of a sleep. When the morning light streaked in through the front window, he'd gone to wake Stella but couldn't bring himself to. He'd walked quietly to her bedside and she was still there, in the same position he'd left her the night before, turned on her side towards him. Her fringe was still tousled where he'd kissed her forehead and she was breathing quietly.

She was gorgeous and precious and fragile and strong. Damn, he loved her.

He'd found his phone on the rug by his makeshift bed and had called Summer and Anna. They'd swung into action and opened the shop and he'd come through on his promise to stop by and see how they were doing, give them an update on Stella.

When she'd walked in, pale, wide-eyed and trembling, he'd wanted to tell her off and hold her, both at the same time.

It was no surprise she had trust issues. She'd been burnt by the people who were supposed to love her. What would it take for her to let him in? How could he get her to understand that he loved her?

He had no fucking clue. But he wasn't going to give up. He couldn't give up. But as he thought over and over what she'd been through in her life, he knew there had to be a way to help her learn to trust.

Luca flicked the TV from channel to channel but couldn't concentrate on anything. When he tossed the remote on the coffee table, it hit a DVD case. When he leant over to pick it up, Mouse still purring volcanically against his leg, he realised it was the movie Stella loved, the one she'd been talking about at Christmas. The old black and white one:
It's a Wonderful Life
. He looked at the cover, thought what the hell—he had some time to kill anyway—and slipped the disc into the player.

Stella slipped on her kimono and walked slowly to the living room, following the sound of voices and music. As she took each step, she realised the pounding had gone. There was no more throbbing in her head but she still felt washed out and dozy. At the end of the hallway, she looked across to the source of the noise and there was James Stewart hugging Donna Reed by a Christmas tree.

She could just make out the top of Luca's head, his intertwined fingers covering his dark hair, his elbows in the air on either side.

She stopped and waited, wondering if she could find the right words. What was the etiquette of talking to someone who'd told you he loved you when you couldn't say it back?

When the credits rolled, Luca jabbed the remote at the TV and the screen flicked to black. He remained seated, staring out the front window into the afternoon shadows. For a few more moments, she let herself imagine that he would be there always.

And then she packed the thought away into the part of her heart that held everything else she'd never had and couldn't have.

‘So, what did you think?'

Luca started at the question, and he turned to her. ‘Hey,' he said. ‘How're you feeling?'

Stella crossed the room and sat next to him. She noticed Mouse was curled up in a ball by his left leg. Her on one side. Mouse on the other. Luca in the middle.

‘Better.' She nodded and didn't try to stifle the yawn that overcame her. She tapped her temple. ‘No more throbbing.'

‘Good.'

Before she realised she shouldn't, she'd dipped her head and his shoulder was right there and he stretched out his arm behind her and held her close.

‘I thought you'd gone,' she said.

‘You should know me better than that.'

‘Even though I asked you to go, you didn't.'

‘No.'

‘Thank you,' she murmured. ‘For everything. For the shop and for staying here and feeding Mouse and …' There was more she wanted to say.
Thank you for loving me. Thank you for telling me.
And then,
I'm sorry I can't love you the way you want.

‘It's what friends do, Stella.' He turned his head and pressed his lips to her hair. ‘So, the movie.'

‘My favourite film of all time.'

Luca's hand caressed her shoulder, rough fingers against her cool silk. ‘It's not a fantasy, you know, that life that George Bailey had. Friends. Family. People who cared about him. That's what counts at the end of the day. It's what binds us to other people. It's what makes us who we are and it makes me happy, having that all around me. But you don't see that, do you?'

Stella looked up at him.

‘You're like George at the beginning of the movie—you know that? You only see what you missed out on, not what you have.'

Stella found the ends of the tie from her dressing gown and knotted them while she thought about his question. ‘I did miss out on a lot as a child. I think … I know that's left scars that maybe even I still don't understand. I don't even know if I remember half of what happened to me, to be honest. There are whole stretches of time that are a blank.' Stella shivered with the awareness of how big this confession was. She'd told him about her past, but she hadn't laid out before the link to how she'd treated him, why she was pushing away his love.

Luca turned to her with searching eyes; she knew he was trying for all the world to understand her. ‘Is that what you want for yourself, some kind of big life, like the guy in the movie wanted? Did you want to get out and see the world, have big adventures?'

Stella twisted her fingers into knots. ‘I did and look what happened. I nearly lost everything.'

‘But you made new adventures, didn't you? You didn't let anything beat you.' Luca nudged her. ‘You did that with Style by Stella. Look at everything you've got here. This house. Your shop. Good friends. Your cat. An ex-lover.'

Stella paused. ‘You're not talking about Duncan?'

‘No.' Luca moved, lifted his arm from her shoulder, and stood. He looked down at her, so visibly sad that her heart broke at what she'd done to this man. ‘I'm talking about me.'

‘You're such a wonderful man, Luca.'

‘There's always a “but” though, isn't there?'

‘I'm screwed up—not that that's any big revelation to you, I'm sure, after what I've put you through. Every few years, my fucked-up life comes back to haunt me. Just when I think I'm about to be happy … just when I
am
about to be really happy, it's all there again. It's as if some part of me doesn't
want
me to be. Some part won't let me be happy.'

Luca shoved his hands into his pockets. ‘You ever talked to anyone?'

‘I had a social worker when I was a kid. More like a revolving door of social workers, to be honest. And I had Auntie Karen.'

‘But you lost her when you were eighteen.' Then his voice dropped, quiet and serious. ‘You've been on your own a long time.'

She'd been on her own for half her life. Fending for herself. Protecting herself. Creating her suit of armour. Her costume. Her mask. She wished she could stop. She was so tired.

Her tears ran hot and wet down her face. ‘I need to sort myself out, Luca.'

He said nothing but looked down at her. They held that moment for a long while. Stella hugging herself on the sofa. Luca standing in front of her, his hands trapped in his pockets.

He sighed deeply. ‘I'll ring Anna. She wanted to come and check you out. I'll let her know you're okay.'

‘Tell her I'm fine. Tell her that … Tell her that I've been well looked after by her wonderful brother.'

Luca's smile didn't reach his eyes. He picked up his phone and walked to the front door to make the call in private. But he stopped. Looked back to her with a longing that killed her. ‘Stella?'

‘Yeah?'

‘You could talk to Anna. She'll know what to do. She'll help you.'

Stella breathed, pondering what Luca had said. Could she talk to Anna? She was Luca's sister and maybe that was too close. But she liked her and she was a Morelli. There was a loyalty about that whole family that Stella couldn't dispute.

‘Okay.'

And when Luca smiled back at her this time, his eyes shone bright.

‘Oh my god, bella.' Anna sat next to Stella, one hand gripping Stella's fingers tight, the other scrunching a wad of balled-up tissues, dripping with tears. The coffee table in front of them was loaded with a box of fresh tissues, empty coffee cups and a half-eaten packet of biscuits. ‘I would never have known, you know? I mean, look at you. The courage and strength it must have taken for you to survive that childhood and be who you are today … well. You're something, Stella. You really are.'

Stella didn't feel brave or courageous. She felt fragile and shattered, as if she was crumbling into a million pieces. ‘I survived by hiding it, Anna. But that doesn't make it go away.'

Anna patted Stella's hand. ‘I've been a doctor long enough to know the people with the biggest secrets are often masters at hiding them. I can't believe you've never talked to anyone about what happened.'

Stella wiped her eyes. ‘It was easier to pretend my parents were dead than tell everyone the awful truth. You know how people would have looked at me if they'd known my parents were kids when they had me, that they became addicts to escape their dysfunctional lives, that I'd been in foster care? It was hard enough being the new kid in school without all that baggage as well. And then when Auntie Karen died, she left me all she had. I sold the caravan, landed in Sydney with a few thousand dollars in the bank and an even cleaner slate. I wanted to leave it all behind me. And then when everything fell apart there I came back here, thinking it would help. But in so many ways, I'm reminded of who I am here more than anywhere. Where I came from. I wanted to escape back home … but you can't keep running. Your secrets run right along behind you.'

‘And most times, they catch up with you, Stella. I'm so glad you're at a point in your life where you want to reach out. That's a really important step.'

‘Thank you for listening, for being here for me today.'

‘My brother's pretty convincing.' Anna smiled, wiping tears from her cheeks.

‘Your brother's pretty wonderful.'

‘He is.' Anna held her shoulders tight and looked at her. ‘Bella, you know what the chances are of you coming through those childhood experiences completely unscathed?'

Stella shook her head. ‘I'm lucky compared with some. I mean, I had Auntie Karen. I wasn't even in foster care for that long.'

‘But your parents were chaotic and in a terrible mess themselves for the first ten years of your life. Ten
years
, Stella. From what the experts tell us about child development even the first few months are crucial to a child's future. What some people end up doing to their own children.' Anna waved the thought away. ‘I've seen it in my practice, so I'm no stranger to what really goes on out there in the world, the struggles people face. But now that Joe and I have Francesca, it makes that all so much sadder. What you experienced, that's not lucky. That's neglect and abuse. You know what I was doing when I was ten? I certainly wasn't watching my father get sent to jail or being told my mother had overdosed. I think I was watching
Beverly Hills 90210
and trying to decide if I should marry Brandon or Dylan.'

‘I was Brandon all the way.' Stella smiled at that memory, surprised she'd found it.

‘Ah, Brandon. The nice guy,' Anna noted.

‘Of course.'

‘Oh, I was definitely a Dylan girl.' Anna reached for another biscuit and talked while she chewed. ‘Here's something I really want you to understand. You are not alone. The things that happened to you? They were not your fault and they have happened to thousands of others. The lessons you learnt from them, and the love you had from your aunt—all that made you what you are today. Look at you now. You're smart. You own a business and a home. You have an incredible eye for style and you happen to be gorgeous, inside and out. You, more than anyone, know about suffering and that gives you a unique perspective on other people's lives. That, my darling friend, is a gift.'

‘I don't know if I'm that smart.' Stella sniffed and covered her eyes with her palms, breathing deep, her shoulders shuddering and her heart aching.

‘Oh, stop being coy.'

‘No, I mean … Luca told me he loves me and—'

‘Of course he does,' Anna interrupted.

‘—and I broke up with him.'

Anna was uncharacteristically silent for a long moment. ‘You don't love him?'

If Stella wasn't mistaken, Anna's heartbroken face mirrored her brother's. ‘Oh god, more than anything. He's the best man I've ever met. But he deserves someone else. Someone easy. Why would he want to be with me when I have all this … this baggage I need to sort out? And Luca … he'll be such a wonderful father. You know how he is with Francesca. I could never ask him to give that up just because I don't want children.'

‘You don't?'

Stella shook her head. ‘No. This is all too much for any man to bear. I'm way too much like hard work.'

‘Stella, darling,' Anna sighed and patted her hand as she sniffed away her tears, ‘we're totally worth it.'

‘I thought I'd be okay, you know? I thought maybe I was ready. But the demons still haunt me, Anna. Even after all these years. I need to exorcise them but I don't know where to start.'

Anna picked up her phone and dialled a number. ‘I do.'

Luca was covered head to toe in one hundred and twenty years of dust. He'd spent all Saturday ripping up the carpets in his terrace house, using a lever to grab at the edges so he could pull and rip at the carpet and underfelt with his bare hands. He'd tugged and ripped and dust and flecks of felt and carpet strands had floated into the air, into his hair and into his throat, and were still clinging to the sweat dripping from his body. The skip out the front of his house was half loaded already and it would be full by the end of the day. Luca had had plenty of offers of help, from his sisters and Joe, from his soccer mates. But he needed to do this alone. He needed to do something, anything, to distract himself from Stella.