Secrets, Love and Lies (18+)

8 - What We Could Be

Present Day

For always, Luca had promised me. Promised that he would always keep me safe, though I guess he'd never meant from himself. I sigh again, running my hands through my hair.

What a mess. I need to tell Alex what happened. I'm both furious and heartbroken that I'm being forced to cancel our date Friday night, the special night he's planned for us.

Tears draw into the corner of my eyes again as I head to the front door to lock up and return to the comfort of my bedroom where I flop myself onto on the unmade queen bed. Drawing up the soft, grey cotton duvet to my chin, I shiver as I chase off the chill of my emotional morning. Years ago, I lost Luca, and now I'm going to lose Alex too.

I think sometimes people believe that when they know something is coming and can prepare, it will hurt less. Those people are wrong.

I sigh deeply, thinking about my lousy track record with men thus far. I wanted Luca and he didn't want me. I want Alex and I can't have him. And Walter – well, he's a lot like my father. A thorn in my side that has yet to go away.

My own father doesn't even love me. Not really. He controls and demeans me and is only involved in my life to the point of directing my entire future. I feel this growing certainty that for some reason I'm destined to lead a lonely life, forever denied the joy of loving and being loved.

And here I am, whining again, turning my life into a damned Greek tragedy. Alex is right; I really need to stop believing the worst about everyone and everything. But it's so hard when it feels life really only wants to bring me the worst.

Alright, I really do need to stop whining. And I also need a drink. I lean over, hoping I still have that mickey in my bedside drawer, so I don't need to get up from my warm bed. As I yank open the drawer, I sigh in defeat at the empty bottle - actually, bottles in the drawer. I wrap myself in a cozy housecoat before heading to the kitchen to pour myself a drink and bring both the glass and the bottle back into the bedroom with me.

The soft lilac, satin pillow cover under my head is soaked in tears. I prop myself against the headboard and sip my drink as I glance through the open window into the busy skyline, watching as shadows and lights move across the glass of the buildings and listen to the white noise of the traffic below. The sights and sounds are soothing to my soul, a peaceful and predictable melody so unlike the incessant chatter of my mind.

How am I going to tell Alex? My heart is breaking all over again as I picture his sweet face and animated sapphire blue eyes, always so full of joy and life. His easygoing, carefree demeanor spills into everything we do together, and he's always finding some new way to make me smile or laugh every day.

Without fail, he'll surprise me with some new experience, some new thing to try and fall in love with. Like last week when he introduced me to Ethiopian cuisine, something my stubborn, German father would never consider trying with me. When we were done, he dragged me and my food baby right into an interactive gallery experience. We crawled and climbed through pieces of welded steel and melted plastic and danced with beautiful living art 'pieces' until we both became jealous and finished the evening dancing in each other's arms, oblivious to the rest of the gallery.

He makes every moment together an event with his boundless positive energy and creativity. Somehow, he always finds little ways to make me feel special and wanted whenever we're together. He's the sunshine that chases all my dark clouds away.

I hold the phone in my hand, hovering over his contact. Should I call him? Text him? My stomach churns at thought of the task ahead of me.

Inhaling a shaky, strained breath, I press the call button and wait.