Page 30 of Sucker Love (Sugar Pill Duet #1)

NOEL

By the time I get home on Friday afternoon Luca’s ready to depart, jingling his keys and hurrying me along as I hastily shove clothes into a duffel bag.

Amelia’s already gone, taken away to stay with the wife, and I’m almost disappointed.

I wanted to see her, or catch a glimpse at least. It doesn’t matter really, but the more tidbits Luca drops about Demi and their marriage, the more curious I am.

I want to know what kind of woman it is that Luca is married to, or was, or won’t be for long—whatever.

I do feel like I’m in some strange competition with her even though that’s fucking ridiculous.

They are getting a divorce, she is no threat.

And then I have to wonder, threat to what , exactly , and that’s best not to dwell upon too much because then I get myself all turned around about it.

It’s like I don’t even know how to feel about what I don’t know how to feel about, and then I get that dizzying sort of fluttery feeling in my stomach that feels so good and so awful at the same time.

The only way to alleviate it is to push it all aside and very decidedly not think about any of that.

I blame my friends for putting all this shit into my head in the first place.

And I blame Luca, too, for muddying the waters so much that I can no longer see bottom.

Once we’re underway, it doesn’t take us long to hit the interstate into New Hampshire, and soon enough anything familiar falls away from me, nearly all at once.

I stare out the window and watch city and suburbs recede to hills and trees half-covered in snow.

It looks like a watercolor landscape fit for the front of a Christmas card, if you exclude the dirty, noisy highway.

It’s not like I haven’t been outside of the city at all, just not very far outside of it, other than Six Flags.

Certainly not anywhere that is more nothing than something .

I’m not sure how I feel about it. It’s almost oppressive, the lack of civilization save for trees and exits to gas stations.

I know there are towns just beyond the terrain that’s hindering my view of them, that we aren’t in the middle of nowhere—hardly an hour out of Boston proper—but it sort of feels like it.

The wipers switch on; it’s beginning to snow again. The wet road wizzes beneath the truck’s tires. “You good?” Luca asks me. “You’re awfully quiet.”

“I’m thinking thoughts,” I say sincerely.

He turns down the music; it’s whatever’s playing off his phone, alternative rock bands from twenty whole years ago. Not that it’s bad. Just strange to think about sometimes, that the music he grew up with is older than I am. “Like?”

“Hmm.” I twist in the seat, putting my back to the cold window. “Like, was there always so much sky, or is that a new thing?”

This makes him laugh, which was my aim of course. “Come on.”

“I just think—” I hold my thumb out to the windshield and close one eye. “The horizon would look so much better if the Prue was looming ominously smack dab in the middle at all times. Like some giant, terrible obelisk.”

“It wouldn’t. ”

I slump in the seat until my knees touch the dash. I have to slump a fair ways to accomplish this. The cab is big and I am small. I like feeling small, though; I like how the truck makes me feel small and I like how Luca makes me feel small. “You really like this outdoorsy shit, huh?”

“I really do,” he agrees. “It’s been so long since I’ve actually gotten to do any of it, either.

I wish I could go away longer than just a weekend, but.

..” He does seem excited. He’s got this kind of flush on his cheekbones and brightness to his green eyes that makes him look almost like a little kid.

It’s very cute, endearing, even though I cannot relate.

Or don’t know how to relate. It’s not like I’ve ever been on a mountain.

“I think you’ll like it, too. I mean, if you give it a chance. ”

“You said I could stay in the lodge,” I whine. I do not want to strap sticks to my feet and skid down the side of a giant hill. I want to be warm.

“You can . But I was hoping...” He peers through the windshield. The snow is getting heavier, the glass dirtier; the wipers shriek as they smudge it with grime and salt. He has to spray it liberally with fluid before it’s no longer obscured. “We could hit one of the easier trails, me and you.”

“What, like hiking?”

“Yeah.”

I make a face because I’m not one for exercise and fresh air, but I suppose it can’t be all that different from trotting around the city as I do. I think I’m reasonably fit for all the chasing around ill-timed trains and buses. “Maybe. Not if it’s gonna be like this.”

“Weather’s forecasted to be perfect on the mountain,” he assures me.

I’m dubious. And I feel a little bad because Luca’s so excited and this is all so not my scene, whatever that may be.

Half-conscious and incoherent in some trashy club?

Or locked in my bedroom, screaming obscenities into my pillow?

Either way I’m worried I’m going to wreck the vibes of this whole thing and plow right through this little moment of self-actualization he’s having.

It’s not that I’m not thrilled to have been asked—because I am.

Giddy with excitement, the idea of just us two away on some mountain somewhere.

But it’s one of those things that seems too good to be true.

Some sort of test, something I’m meant to fail so he’ll have a reason to detach.

He has so many already, but this will be the final straw.

Destroying this revisiting of childhood wonder.

And I don’t want to do that. I want to make it so good for him. I love seeing him like this, happy and carefree and a smile splitting his handsome face. I don’t want to be the reason it stops and goes away.

I clear my throat. “Still wondering why you bothered bringing me along at all,” I say.

“I told you why, Noel. Plus, you need to get out and have some experiences. ”

“But I feel like...I don’t know, you’d have more fun by yourself.”

He catches my eye as he glances sidelong at me, one hand hovering over the heat vent. “I don’t know about that.” He smiles. “But you know I like spending time with you, right? I enjoy this. Just doing stuff with you. You’re fun to have around.”

“Hm.” I do not feel like I’m particularly fun to be around these days.

I think I’m pretty fucking miserable. I’ve only got two friends and they barely put up with my shit, staging a whole ass intervention at Popeyes just to warn me if I lose my head again they’ll desert the sinking ship I am like rats.

But I’ve got Luca, whatever he is, for however long I’ve got him.

If he even wants me.

And I am still smarting from our abortive attempt at sex earlier in the week, but he still wants me here so that must mean something.

Right? I really hope we’re going to make up for it this weekend and I am trying to psyche myself up for it, be exactly what he wants me to be.

I don’t know what the fuck that is—someone who isn’t a completely broken person, I guess—but I’m going to give it a shot.

I’ll let him do whatever he wants. I will. I just want so badly to make him happy.

“I think a better question,” he says wryly, “is why you agreed to come if you were going to bitch the entire time.”

Now I’m smiling, too, almost against my will, and my cheeks feel warm. I wiggle back upright and cross my legs, turning my attention out the window again. There’s a fracture in the clouds where blue sky peeks out, and it grows wider as I watch. The snowfall tapers off once more.

“Because,” I say. “I like being around you, too.”

Some three hours later we’re checking into our mountainside hotel, and it is the biggest hotel I’ve ever seen in my life, let alone stayed in. Not that I’ve stayed in many. Still, this is no downtown Hyatt, and it’s certainly no Days Inn.

The lobby is enormous, rustic-chic despite its grandiosity, all exposed wood beams and stone accents.

There’s a large fireplace surrounded by plush armchairs, many of which are occupied by cherry-faced skiers that have just come off the mountain.

And of that there are spectacular views, too, because of all the big windows.

It’d be the perfect subject for a plein-air painting if it weren’t so damn cold, but I did bring my iPad in case the mood struck.

I’m so busy gaping around myself that I don’t pay much attention to Luca’s conversation with the concierge.

I only turn back just in time to see her push the key card across the desk in its little envelope and give him a bright, lipsticked smile as she says, “You’re all set.

I hope you and your wife have a lovely stay, Mr. Karvelas. ”

He tries to say something, I think. I see his stricken mouth work but the only sound it makes is a sort of dusty creak, as if his tongue has glued itself to the roof of his mouth.

I take it upon myself to smile back at the lovely hotel employee and swipe the card myself.

In my decidedly unfeminine voice, I say, “We will. Thank you so much.” She doesn’t so much as flinch, though. Sign of the times.

“I’m sorry,” Luca finally manages as we beat swift feet to our second-floor room. “I don’t know why she said that. I mean, I have no idea why she’d think we were married, let alone that you’re, you know ?—”

“It’s fine, Luca. I don’t care.” And I don’t.

Why the hell should I? Fuck, I’m giddy at the fact she mistook me for Luca’s wife.

Take that, Luca’s actual wife. Not that she cares, since she’s the one throwing him away in the first place.

Which makes me the raccoon scavenging her leavings, I guess.

“It’s not the first time someone thought I was a girl. ”