Page 63 of Between the Lines

Turning back to the bedroom, he regarded the bed and tried not to picture Theo sleeping there amongst the rumpled sheets. He’d need to strip the bed and send the linen off with the final load to the laundry service. They’d be auctioning the contents of the hotel, including bed and table linen, and what didn’t sell would be cleared. Lux Properties—a kindness from Theo, Luca suspected—had been happy for the auction to take place after Jude had left and Lux took possession. Luca assumed that meant the demolition crews wouldn’t be in right away, and at that thought his chest tightened and he had to blink back a sudden rise of tears.

Pressing his lips together, he turned to the window and stared out over the familiar view to the beach. It broke his heart, there were no other words for it. Knowing he’d never stand there again, never see this view, never walk down the grand staircase or across the marble foyer broke his heart. He pressed his hands over his eyes, sucked in a breath, and got himself under control. Hiding his grief from Jude had become a priority, and he wouldn’t falter so close to the end.

He puffed out a breath against that word,end. It felt like the end and yet his life stretched ahead without shape or form or destination. California, next. Then Whistler. And then...?

Turning away from the window, he pulled the cover off the bed and began to strip the sheets. Top sheet, bottom sheet, pillowcases. He dumped them all by the door, stooping to pick up the comforter. As he did so, he saw something under the bed. It was one of Luca’s own t-shirts, one he’d loaned Theo on a sunny afternoon at the Surf Hut. Sitting back on his heels, he turned it over in his hands, remembering Theo wearing it—how it had fluttered against his lean body in the breeze. Impulsively, Luca brought it to his face and breathed in, as if he might catch Theo’s lingering scent. But there was nothing, just the dusty smell of cotton.

With a grunt, Luca pushed to his feet, tucking the t-shirt into the pocket of his shorts, and piling the pillows onto the bed. Laundry in hand, he headed downstairs and stuffed it into the bags waiting to be picked up from the kitchen.

Dee was there with Jude, preparing food for the party, chatting quietly together. He offered to help, but they said they had everything under control.

“Why don’t you head down to the beach?” Jude suggested. “The surf looked good this morning.”

He didn’t take much persuading. Between his lifeguard shifts, teaching at the Surf Hut, and helping out at the Majestic, he hadn’t had a lot of time to himself over the last few weeks. And he missed getting out into the water alone. Besides, anything was better than moping about the hotel getting maudlin.

He went out to his van to change, grabbed his board and headed down to the beach. There was nothing like pitting yourself against the ocean to kill a couple hours or four. And Jude was right, there was a nice offshore breeze and the waves were peeling cleanly.

Concentrating on the surf was as close to meditation as Luca was ever likely to get, but it did a good job of forcing everything else out of his head. By the time he dragged his tired body out of the water, chilled as the late-summer sun dropped low in the sky, he was feeling almost relaxed about tonight’s party. Resigned, at the very least.

He bumped into Ashna at the Surf Hut, fixing her board onto her cycle rack. She was heading out soon, too, back to school for the fall. New Milton was emptying out, and he tried to imagine what it would be like once Theo’s project had been finished and the place was full of rich golfers and boutique spas. Would the Surf Hut even survive?

“Hey,” Ashna said, standing up with a smile. “Thought you’d be prepping for the party.”

“It’s mostly done. You’re coming, right?”

“You bet.” She offered him an odd little smile. “Must be weird, huh, seeing it go like this?”

He peeled off his wetsuit, skin chill in the cooling air, and dunked it in the fresh water barrel. “Yeah.”

“You’ll still come for the summers, though, right?”

“I don’t know.” He hung up his wetsuit to drip and stepped under the warm shower. “Not sure I want to see the place without the Majestic.”

Ashna made a face. “Not sure I want to see it without Luca Moretti. Who am I gonna rib if you’re not in the lifeguard chair next summer, huh?”

“I’m sure you’ll find someone.” He ran his hands through his hair, washing off the salt. “You have a talent.”

She finished cinching her board into place and cocked a hip, leaning against her bike. “Talking of which, what happened with your boy?”

Luca turned off the water and grabbed his towel, rubbing his hair dry so he didn’t have to look at her. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“He went back to New York.”

“And...?”

He shrugged. “And nothing.”

“But you were so into him!”

“Yeah, well... It didn’t work out.”

Braced for more teasing, or an incredulous eye-roll, he was surprised when Ashna patted him on his damp shoulder. “That sucks, I’m sorry. You guys were adorable.”

That packed a punch, and despite the shivery pain behind his breastbone, he couldn’t help saying, “Yeah?”

“Totally.”

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