Page 6 of Pomegranates and Olive

I pull my slipper off my foot and glare at my sister. "I swear to God, Rosalia, if you don't shut up I will slap you with this."

"Talking to you two is like trying to talk to a box full of puppies." Ginny claps her hands at her camera to gain our focus. "And you came to the realisation that you want to break all the rules while he was on his knee about to propose?"

"He wasn't actually on his knee, but yes, I mean, no. It's been coming on for a while. I don't want to think the worst, but I've got to wonder if Luca did it intentionally, knowing I was going to have a meltdown. I mean, otherwise why would he have chosen that moment to pop the question? He's had thirteen years to propose!"

"You don't really think that, do you?"

"No, I guess not. Not really." I let out a long and very dramatic sigh. " I knew that something was wrong, but I just couldn’t put my finger on it."

"If you put your finger on the problem then you wouldn't have a problem."

Ignoring my sister, I focus on my cousin's face on the screen. "I'm falling apart. I’ve been going to a therapist."

“Oh?”

I nod at the screen. “Twice a week.”

"At least a therapist would give you better advice than the psycho psychic."

“I’m paying for her holiday house in Byron right next to Chris Hemsworth’s place.”

Ginny’s face scrunches up into a cringe. “She said that?”

"No but I don’t doubt it with what I’m paying her.” I snort as I take another gulp of wine.” It feels like I'm stuck in this rut of a life that I hate. I have self-doubt about me and him, and my whole existence. I’ve spent nights locked in the bathroom crying while contemplating all this."

"At least a therapist would give you better advice than the psycho psychic."

"It feels like I'm stuck in this rut of a life that I hate. I have self-doubt about me and him, and my whole existence. I’ve spent nights locked in the bathroom crying while contemplating all this."

Rosie leans over and squeezes me tightly. "Why didn't you tell me or Chiara what was going on?"

"And have you both tease me?"

"Chiara and I are your sisters, it’s our job to tease you because we love you, but we would never tease you about something as important as this, Olive."

Wrapped in Rosie's arms I weep onto her shoulder until I have no more tears to cry. "Luca knew I was locking myself in the bathroom, but he didn't know how to help me. Or maybe he didn't want to."

"Luca would give you his right arm to help if you asked him for it."

"You don't need to tell me what a great guy Luca is, Rosie, Iknowhe's a great guy… but… but… I dunno… something went wrong with us."

And that is the craziest part, because Luca really is the whole package. I close my eyes and our relationship runs quickly through my mind like a movie; one of those teenage love stories that has a happy ending; although we’ve never ridden a lawn mower together, and Luca never picked me up in a Porsche on my birthday, mostly because he never owned one, but also because he much preferred his sky-blue Datsun 200B.

Luca Oriati had come into my life when I was nine years old. I watched him for six years as he palled around with my older brother Leonardo, flirted unsuccessfully with my older sister Chiara and eventually became an honorary part of our family. I don't think he ever spoke to me, not even once in all those years, until we crashed into each other at a party when I was 15. And then we were together. And we have been ever since.

Luca’s gorgeous without even trying. He looks great in a suit or a pair of board shorts. His thick, brown curls have those natural sun-kissed highlights that us ladies spend a fortune trying to achieve at the hairdresser. His face is always covered in scruff but that just makes him look even more beautiful (if that is even possible). And his eyes… they’re the colour of the bluest summer sky (and the aforementioned Datsun 200B). My heart used to skip a beat when his eyes would search out mine in a crowd, but these days my heart just beats a steady da-dum, da-dum, da-ugh!

He always remembers anniversaries, birthdays and dental appointments. I never have to remind him to pay a bill or put out the garbage. And, despite my non-orgasmic-sex-life Luca is more than willing to put in the time to try and get me there.

Oh, and one final piece of the Luca puzzle – his job. He’s a fireman. Yep, he is a smoking-hot fireman, so hot that he was even in the ‘Firemen with Kittens’ calendar two years ago. He was January, my birthday month, which he still likes to reminds me about every so often, especially when he comes home after a big night out with the boys.

All in all, Luca is a solid eight out of ten, possibly even a nine, although he does have his fair share of faults as well.

He’s a bit of a hot head, always has been, and he’s not afraid to tell you what he thinks. He says it’s because he’s Italian, I say it’s because he’s the oldest of five boys and he never really ever had to answer to anyone. I blame his mother.

But his biggest fault of all is that he knew I was falling apart and he just let it happen.

He knew I was crying alone in the bathroom. He knew that I was paying an exorbitant amount to Dr. Wood every Monday and Wednesday and he damn well knew that I wasn’t ready for marriage and babies. But rather than talk it out, or even scream it out, he just steamed ahead with his plan and to hell with the rest of us.

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