Trouble in Paradise

Chapter XXVII - Peter

"Planet Earth calling Peter. Are you still here with me?"

I groan. The sound is the only sign that I'm still alive. Though at this point, it'd feel better to be dead rotting in purgatory.

Luke. My Luke. How could I've let things get this far?

It's been two weeks since Luke walked out of our home. I haven't seen him, haven't heard him. He refuses to take my calls and tells Wells to say he's unavailable when I call his friend's number.

After I don't respond Marco speaks again. "Peter, you can't do this to yourself. This isn't fixing anything. Look at yourself! You haven't showered in days!"

"Yes I did–"

"No, you haven't!" He shouts and I startle. "All you've done for the past two weeks is cry and sleep. You've lost weight, Peter. You're a shell of yourself."

"I know. I–" I feel a tear running down my face but I don't wipe it. What good would it be when I know so many more are coming? "I can't live my life without Luke. I won't survive it. I won't–"

A sob cuts my words. A sob that opens the dams of my heart as tears run free down my face and not for the first time, I contemplate the worst. Why would I want to stay here when the only future I'm being offered is one without the husband whose feelings I hurt? Whose soul I destroyed?

Those were his last words to me. You destroyed my soul. How can I ever be proud of myself again, of the man I am, when that man bulldozed his way out of a marriage that was all he ever had, but never bothered to be truly grateful for?

**************

Day twenty-three of life without Luke and I'm no better than I was the day he left our house. I've texted him, called him, called Wells. I even had Marco call Wells and ask for help. All for nothing.

One of the things I've admired the most about Luke is how strong he is when he makes a decision, but now that the decision is not coming back, his strength is ripping my heart apart.

Part of me screams that I deserve it and should just take the pain. The other asks me to get up and fight for my marriage, that nothing is over until the last second of the fourth quarter. And even then we might still go overtime.

Lies.

I keep lying to myself saying I'll get him back but not moving a finger to achieve it because I don't know how. I've been back at work in and out, making the Junior Partners take on my work—Gabe has long gone out of my sight since he was reassigned to Paul Loubrier for the rest of his internship.

Gabriel West will always be the worst mistake of my life and it's not even his fault, even though he's a piece of shit.

Who asked me to want something else? Who told me I should want to learn a world outside of Luke when my whole world is him? 'You'll never know what you have until it is gone' rings even louder now that it's happening to me.

Idiot that I am, I take advantage of a red light to text Luke.

PETER: "I will always love you, my Luke. You've been the biggest gift life has ever given me and I plan on becoming an even better man than the one that once deserved you. Our story is not over, baby. It will never be."

The stupid light is still red. Why is it that when I want to get home the fastest is when traffic sucks the worst?

As I continue to drive through the streets of Boston, my phone rings, and on the screen of my dashboard, I see the last person I want to talk to right now, even if I love her more than life itself. With a sigh, I answer.

"Mamma."

"Cucciolo! How have you been?"

Laura Montecarlo is one of the most amazing women I've ever met. She raised me in a home full of love—her and my Papà, and she gave everything for her family. Always. She's beaten cancer twice in the ass and she's my superhero.

She's also stubborn and I know she isn't just calling to know how I'm doing.

"I'm okay, Mamma. Driving home from work. How are you and Papà?"

"Oh, conosci tuo padre. Watching his games on the television. How have you been? How is my Luke? Are you back together yet?"

I wish I could say yes. My mom has always been Luke's number one fan. "No, Mamma, I—I don't know if that will ever happen."

"Ay, Cocciolo, don't say that. You two are meant for each other. You'll see. You'll be back together before you know it."

At least someone thinks that. Why couldn't I be a hopeless romantic like my dad?

My dad! I can't believe I didn't think of it.

"Mamma, can you get Papà for me?"

My mother calls out for my dad and not long after he's on the phone. "Piccolo. Come state tu e Luke? Are you back together?" Oh, yeah, my father is also protective of Luke.

Both of my parents called me all sorts of names when they found out about our divorce because my cousin showed them the Facebook post. I even learned a few Italian curses I never knew existed.

For weeks I had to hear from everyone how stupid I was and that I was making the biggest mistake of my life. I wish I'd believed them back then. I also wish I'd known a divorce is not something you announce on social media before telling your family.

"No, Papà, we're not together. That's why I need you. I need your help. Remember when you and Mamma broke up back when you were young?"

My dad says, "We're still young," while my mom can be heard in the background saying, "I sure remember. You were almost never born."

My parents told me that they broke up back in their early twenties, and my dad had to grovel to get my mother back. He spent a month straight doing daily grand gestures for my mother and that's exactly what I need to do. I need him to show me how to show Luke that I won't ever take him for granted. Never again.

"Papà, I need to learn how to get Luke back, like you did with Mamma."