Page 58 of Lucas & Melissa Falling in Love
Chapter 20
The drive to my family’s home is fast and circuitous to lose the few ambitious paparazzi who bother to follow me. Most know better than to try and keep up. Once we arrive, the gates open and I drive through, watching the skeptical look on Melissa’s face. She doesn’t say it, but she looks like she’s thinking the gates are over-the-top. She might be right back in the states, but not here. Pulling my sports car up the circular drive to the massive front doors of my family home, I try to imagine it from a newcomer’s perspective.
“Are you shitting me?” Melissa says. I laugh because this isn’t what I imagined, but it’s a whole lot more amusing and so like her. Stopping her hand as she goes to open her door, I jump from my seat.
“Let me open your door.” Coming around to her side in two strides, I let her out of the car. “I have this sudden urge to treat you like a princess.”
“Don’t let me stop you.” She takes my hand and steps out, looking over the three-story white Italianate-style structure that is the Fierro home. The terra-cotta tiled roof gleams in the sun. Funny how I return to that feeling of being home even after being away so long, save for a few visits. My sigh is automatic.
“How long as it been?” she asks. I know what she means.
“The last time I was home was three years ago,” I admit.
“Then I hope it hasn’t changed too much so you can give me a proper tour.”
“I’ll let my mother show you the house. What I want to show you is the garage.” I point to the building diagonally behind the house, a corner of which can be seen from our vantage point.
“That’s okay.” She laughs at me.
“It holds over one hundred cars,” I say.
She stops and turns to me. “A hundred—are you shitting me?”
I laugh at her and sweep her up with one arm, snatching up our two small bags with the other, and bring her forward to the door. Before I open it, the door swings in and my two younger sisters greet us. I remember them as playful tomboys jumping and racing around and now they’re young ladies, teenagers. But they’re at least not sedate, they still jump as they do now, squealing my name and hugging me by turns.
“I can’t believe you’re here. You’re still the same. I’m so happy to see you,” Rosalie, the older of the two, says. She’s grown into a lovely young woman. Dropping the bags, I give her a proper big brother hug, realizing how much I’ve missed, regret tugging at me.
“My turn. This is so exciting to have you back,” Theresa says. I laugh and give her the big hug she’s due.
“No one is happier than me to see you both.” So far they’ve not paid attention to Melissa, but I’m aware of her hovering behind me, watching and waiting. Then Rosalie looks past me to flick a gaze and quick smile at her.
Reaching out for her, I take Melissa’s hand and tug her forward, to my side.
“I have someone special for you to meet.” I introduce them all and Rosalie is like a young version of Mama, gracious and sweet. Theresa is more assessing and I see the spark of mischief in her has remained. I’m glad.
“Mama says you can both stay in your old room, Lucas,” Theresa says as we walk through the tall foyer to the main stairs. She tosses a glance at Melissa and adds, “Unless you’d rather stay in a guest room?”
I answer for us both. “You shouldn’t be broaching such subjects with a guest. You know better than that.”
“I do? How would you know?” Theresa sounds more like the little girl I left behind with her contrary nature on display, never mind who’s listening.
I can only shake my head and laugh. Melissa smiles and says under her breath, “Touché.”
Once we’re settled into my old room and I shut the door, promising the girls that we’ll be ready for dinner at eight, I look around the space. My room in my childhood home. It’s an adult space now, even with the half dozen model cars displayed about. These are sophisticated models of Fierro classics. The bed is large and high, the armoire tall and heavy, the armchair overstuffed and comfortable and hardly worn. I watch Melissa sit on the bed.
“I didn’t expect your Mama to let us sleep together,” she says.
I shrug. “You could say my parents are progressive, but truthfully they prefer not to be hypocrites. Family legend has it that theirs was a very steamy romance back in the day.” Feeling satisfaction at making this confession, I sit next to her on the bed.
Surprise flashes on her face. “I think I like your parents, your entire family in fact.” Then she smiles and slips her phone from her bag.
“I need to call my parents to let them know where I am. But I need to call Margo first so she doesn’t worry. She’s going to flip when I tell her about the paparazzi incident.”
“What else are you going to tell her?” I ask as I half lay on the bed behind her, stroking her back, letting my hand wander around her, feeling the soft give of her body and taking in her scent.
“That your father is irrepressible and I predict he’ll live a long life.”
“You’re probably right about that.” A deep comfort, a warm roll of satisfaction runs through me, the kind of feeling that says all is right with the world. I know it’s partly from being home, from knowing my father will be all right for a good long while even though he’s getting old, from seeing my family and feeling that sense of belonging wrap around me like an old blanket, still warm and soft and protective. But most of all the sense of well-being comes from having Melissa here, part of all this, sharing my past, my family, the essence of where I came from and who I am.
