Page 38 of Banter & Blushes #1
EPILOGUE: THE QUEEN OF PLANNING (AND LOVE)
REBECCA
Y ou know, when I first met Luca, I never imagined that my life would end up like this. I mean, I was just a woman who needed a vacation and got way more than she bargained for. But here I am, almost a year later, and I’ve turned into... well, let’s call it a virtual planner .
And by “virtual planner,” I mean I’m the only one in town who’s remotely good at it.
That’s right. I’ve become the go-to gal for anyone who wants to get married, have a party, or even just throw a really fancy birthday dinner.
I plan everything from destination weddings to kids' birthday parties with themes so elaborate that even Pinterest gets jealous. But hey, I’m good at it, and Luca.
.. well, Luca supports me. We’ve even partnered up a few times to use his restaurant for catering.
He’s been a wonderful supporter. Sometimes too wonderful.
Take this morning, for instance.
“Rebecca, you don’t need to work today,” Luca said as he handed me a steaming mug of coffee and then kissed me on the forehead like I was some sort of frail flower he had to protect. “I’ve got it covered. You’re tesoro mio, you deserve a break.”
I blinked, staring at him over my coffee cup. I bit my bottom lip at his endearment. Tesoro Mio—my treasure. The way he uses it in a sentence always made me feel like his queen. But even queen’s couldn’t simply sit still and look pretty. “You do know I like working, right? ”
“Not anymore.” He grinned, his eyes sparkling. “You’ve been planning everything for everyone else—now it’s my turn to take care of you.”
I rolled my eyes, pretending to be annoyed, but I couldn't hide my grin. Luca had become... well, Luca. The guy who always treats me like I’m made of glass. As romantic as it is, sometimes it makes me wonder if I’m secretly in a rom-com that’s not as self-aware as it thinks it is.
But that’s not the end of it. Oh no. Luca has this thing where he’ll randomly make me incredible meals and try to convince me that I don’t need to work.
It’s cute. It’s sweet. It’s also a little ridiculous because, despite him saying I “don’t need to work,” he’ll still leave little notes in the kitchen that read: Cuore mio, my heart, I made this for you—enjoy.
Also, can you please organize the spice cabinet? It’s driving me crazy.
I’ve seriously never been so spoiled in my life.
And don’t even get me started on his family. Oh. My. God.
They’re everything I never had growing up—loud, warm, and unconditionally loving.
They adore me. And the best part? Luca's mother insists on calling me “her little star”—picolla stella—and has even tried to convince me to take part in all these Tuscany traditions that involve way too much food. Like, way too much.
I swear, I’ve eaten pasta every other day since I got here. I thought my metabolism would revolt at some point, but... no. The universe is clearly on my side. At this rate, I won’t be anyone’s little anything.
But the thing that gets me every time is how different this is from the family I grew up with. Mine was distant, full of expectations, and the only affection I ever received was probably during the holiday season, when my mom would ask me if I was still single .
Luca’s family, though? They make me feel like I’m not just accepted —I’m celebrated. And every time his mom tells me how lucky Luca is to have me, it makes me feel like I’ve won the lottery of life.
I mean, I almost cried the other day when his dad pulled me aside and said, “You’ve got a good man there, Rebecca. Hold onto him.” It was the first time I’d heard those words from a father figure who wasn’t sarcastic or condescending. And it hit me hard.
Of course, life can’t be all sunshine and rainbows (even though it often feels like it is). Maya, my dear best friend, is back home—still giving me crap about Luca and Joe. She just couldn’t stay away from Joe, even if she denied it. The phone calls I get from her are hysterical.
“So, tell me about Luca,” she said one afternoon, trying to sound casual on the phone. “I mean, what’s he like now that you’ve been... you know... together for a while?”
I could hear the wink in her voice, even over the phone.
I rolled my eyes. “Same as always—annoyingly perfect and over-the-top romantic. ”
Maya snorted. “Well, when you put it that way, I can see why I’m not there with you. I mean, Joe?—”
“Don’t you dare.” I cut her off, laughing. “You’re totally into him. You have to be. I hear it in your voice when you talk about him.”
She paused, then let out an exaggerated sigh.
“Maybe, but I refuse to admit it. He’s, like, the human equivalent of a traffic cone.
Ugh, and despite all that, he has the craziest ways to make me swoon.
What is wrong with me? How could I even be into half the things he attempts and miserably fails at?
But, you know what? I’ll call him if I want.
You don’t control my love life, Miss Queen of Planning. ”
“Uh-huh,” I said. “And how’s that going for you?”
“Don’t make me get serious , Rebecca. I don’t know how to handle this much... emotion.” Maya’s voice lowered into what could only be described as the world’s most sarcastic tone. “But don’t you worry, I’ll call you after I?—"
“Got the world’s greatest man ,” I interrupted her, giggling. “Yeah, I know. I’ll call you when I’m planning our wedding. But I’m pretty sure that involves a lot of pasta and wedding cake, so... we’ll see.”
Maya groaned. “You’re so cheesy. Why are you like this?”
“Well, you’re lucky I’m not trying to be all romantic right now,” I teased. “If I were, I’d send you a picture of me and Luca making out on our rooftop... in a sea of rose petals... with candles everywhere. Romantic .”
“ Don’t make me picture that.”
“Well, I’m going to, because?—“
Before I could finish, Luca walked into the kitchen, a plate in his hands, and he was grinning like a Cheshire cat.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
I held up the phone to him. “Maya’s just jealous that she’s missing out on all the romance.”
Luca raised an eyebrow, but then grinned. “Tell Maya to stop being so bitter. Joe isn’t that bad. He has a good heart. I’ll cook for her next time she visits, and I’ll make her the best pasta she’s ever had.”
Maya’s voice came through the phone, sarcastic but undeniably amused. “ If he can top Joe’s crazy pasta concoction, Rebecca, I might actually forgive him for being Luca.”
I laughed. “We’ll see about that. Alright, I gotta go. Love you, girl.”
After hanging up, Luca set the plate down in front of me and dramatically swept his arms. “Behold!” He gestured to the dish like he was presenting a masterpiece. “ The Rebecca . The most beautiful, most perfect dish I’ve ever created.”
I looked at the plate. It was pasta. Of course. But this time, it was something different—something intricate and delicate, with perfectly sautéed vegetables, a rich sauce, and a touch of truffle oil. It looked like something I could only dream of eating.
“What’s in it?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “Some kind of Luca special? ”
He smiled shyly, his eyes softening. “I named it after you. Because you’re... well, you’re everything to me.”
I felt my heart skip a beat, my chest warming. Everything to him.
“I—” I cleared my throat, trying to hold back the rush of emotion. “I love you.”
His face softened, and he leaned in, kissing me gently on the lips. “I love you more.”
As I looked at the dish he’d made for me, the one named after me, it hit me—this wasn’t just about the food. It was his heart. His soul. His promise to take care of me forever.
I didn’t need anything more. I had everything I ever needed right here.
Before I could take the first bite, in that quiet moment, Luca looked at me with a hint of nervous excitement in his eyes. He dropped to one knee, his hand reaching for mine and my heart stopped.
"Rebecca," he said, his voice steady but filled with emotion, "From the first moment I saw you trying to make love with your iced coffee, I knew I was a jealous man. And the way we continued to collide while you were here made me realize what it’s like to just be carefree with someone and love it. Chasing you down at the airport, I thought I’d lost my chance at everything I knew I couldn’t live without, but you proved me wrong again.
And now? I want to make sure you never get away, even when I annoy you. Will you marry me?"
I stared at him, trying not to laugh at the image of myself "making love" to my iced coffee. It was such a ridiculous thing to say, but hearing him say it with such sincerity made my heart swell.
"Yes," I said, barely able to hold back my grin. "But only if you promise never to mention my iced coffee obsession again."
He chuckled, clearly relieved. "Deal."
"Good," I said, shaking my head, "Because I can’t live with the idea of being tied to a man who thinks I’m in a relationship with a beverage."
And with that, we both laughed, the future suddenly feeling a lot less complicated—and a lot more fun.