His mouth curves slightly. “Yeah?”
“Yes.” I clear my throat. “So please act like a normal person for five minutes.”
He places a hand over his heart. “For you, Princess, I’ll try.”
Heat creeps up the back of my neck at the pet name. Ridiculous. Completely ridiculous.
Anna is watching the door when we enter. Her eyes go from me to Luca and widen just a fraction.
“Oh,” she says.
“Anna, this is Luca.”
He steps to her bedside and offers his hand. “It’s really nice to meet you, Ms. Petrova.”
Anna stares at his hand for a second. Then she bypasses it entirely and grabs his wrist, pulling him closer so she can study his face.
“Handsome,” she announces, turning his chin with her fingers like she’s inspecting a piece of fruit at the market. “Very handsome. And tall.”
“Anna.”
“What?” She looks at me, offended. “I may be injured, but I’m not blind.”
Luca laughs. A real one, surprised out of him. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“Don’t call me ma’am. I’m Anna.” She lets go of his chin but keeps hold of his wrist. “And you’re treating her well?”
“I’m trying my best.”
“Trying.” She narrows her eyes, then looks at me. “He’s trying his best. That’s what they all say.”
“Anna.”
“I’m teasing.” She pats his wrist and releases it. “It’s nice,” her expression goes soft as she looks between us. “Seeing you with a boyfriend.”
A blush creeps up my face before I can stop it.
I make the mistake of looking at Luca. He’s watching me with that small, knowing curve to his mouth, and suddenly I am far too warm for a hospital room.
“Sit down.” Anna points to Luca. “You’re too tall. I’m getting a crick.”
Luca grins as he pulls the chair around to Anna’s side and sits. I take the edge of the bed, near enough to hold her hand, and for a few minutes, it almost feels normal.
He leans in when Anna talks, voice low, all that size and force pared down to something careful enough not to overwhelm her. The sight of it lands between tender and dangerous in me.
Anna asks Luca if he cooks, and when he says yes, she tells him about the piroshki she used to make. She tells the story twice. Luca listens both times like it’s brand new. The tenderness of it lands hard, followed immediately by grief sharp enough to surprise me. This is what it could be like, in some other life. One where things were simple. One where I was allowed to keep what I loved.
“Natalia said they’re sending you to rehab after this,” he mentions.
She huffs. “That sounds boring.”
“It probably will be,” I say. “But I’m going to help pick the place, and I’ll make sure you’re somewhere good.”
Anna’s eyes come back to me. “You always take such good care of me, Nat.”
My throat tightens. “I try.”
We stay a little longer after that. Not too long. Long enough for Anna to ask Luca where he’s from and accept “all over” as an answer. Long enough for Anna to tell him that when I was little, I used to hover over her with a toy doctor’s kit anytime she sneezed, which Luca finds far too funny. Long enough for her to ask whether I’ve eaten, then ask again five minutes later because she forgot.
