Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
“That was taken at my cousin Tatiana’s 5th birthday.”
“Must have been some party.”
In the photograph, my entire extended family—all 8 million of us—is crammed together on the dance floor of a banquet hall. A disco ball glimmers overhead. Tatiana is front and center with her hands on her hips in a full diva pose, but everyone else is acting like a damn fool. Nonna has her cane raised in the air, about to thunk Luca with it because he stole a sip of her champagne. My dad is laying a big kiss on my mom’s cheek, and she’s laughing and batting him away. Two of my little cousins wrestle on the floor at Tatiana’s feet. If memory serves me correctly, they bowled her over exactly two seconds after the photo was taken. Meanwhile, way in the back, Gio has his hands hooked up underneath my armpits so he can hoist me up. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been seen. I have my hands raised in the air and a big smile on my face.
“Haven’t you figured it out yet? My family does not do things in half-measures.”
He chuckled and set the picture back on my nightstand. “Oh believe me, I know. I have no doubt my hand will be cramping by the time I finish with all that gear downstairs.”
“You don’t have to do it tonight. There’s no rush.” Concern laced my voice. “In fact, I forbid it.”
He shook his head. “It’s fine. I want to, and it’ll give me time to think. I doubt I’d be able to fall asleep right now even if I tried.”
“Really? I feel like I’m half-asleep already.”
To prove my point, I let my eyelids flutter closed and hummed a happy little sigh as I nestled deeper into my bed.
He laughed and reached up to brush my hair off my forehead while I kept my eyes closed.
“What am I going to do with you?” he asked, more to himself than to me.
I stayed quiet as he traced the back of his finger along my cheek. It felt so deeply intimate, almost more so than everything we’d just done. There was emotion behind his touch, feelings we weren’t yet comfortable voicing aloud coming to surface in the gentle way he slid his finger down along my jaw to my chin. Then he leaned down and kissed me good night.
I was nearly asleep by the time he reached the door.
I’m thinking of that kiss now when I hear Harper’s voice drift back into the kitchen.
“Chloe got me this.” Harper holds the bracelet out for Tate.
Tate drops the stack of birthday presents on the counter and leans in close, thoughtfully taking the time to inspect every charm on Harper’s new bracelet.
“It’s beautiful. You’ll take good care of it?”
Harper cradles the bracelet against her chest. “Of course.”
It’s fun watching Harper tear into the gifts her aunt gave her. You can tell she spoils her. There are a lot of Barbie accessories, some sparkly gel pens, even a set of play makeup that makes Luke groan.
“You got it!” Harper screams. “I knew you would!”
“You think I’d let you down, kid? Now, be sure to ask your dad to let you practice on him with that eyeshadow palette.”
Tate winks at Luke, and I find myself smiling along with them as if I’m part of the crew. Their relationships seem effortless in the same way mine are with my family. It says a lot about Luke that he’s managed to stay close with his sister and his parents even through all the fame.
Sometimes, I have a hard time remembering that side of him exists. It’s hard to reconcile that inside Luke—the sexy casual guy drinking the smoothie I made him—lies an intimidating professional athlete. In normal circumstances, we would have probably never met. He exists in one world, and I exist in another; they aren’t even in the same universe. Maybe there were a few times where our paths crossed in the city. A fleeting moment when his Range Rover swept past me as I walked home on the sidewalk. A night when he was a patron in one of the fancy restaurants while I worked in the kitchens. But maybe not even then.
This everyday, downright-humble version of Luke isn’t the version so many know: the man in his Pinstripes uniform, walking to take the mound in a stadium full of bright lights and thousands of adoring fans shouting his name in awestruck unison. I feel a little sad I missed that era of his life.
Or did I?
A little later in the morning, I’m cleaning up the kitchen and unloading the dishwasher while Harper gives herself a face-full of makeup in the guest bathroom down the hall. Luke and Tate took their second cup of coffee out onto the porch. The weather’s nice, and they’ve left the door open. I’m not going out of my way to eavesdrop on their conversation, but it’s hard not to pay attention when they’re talking about such an intriguing subject.