Chapter 13

13

LUCA

I look like Santa Claus, a bag slung over my shoulder as I wait for Tori to answer her door. But Santa Claus comes bearing gifts, not laundry and the other miscellanea I’ve got.

The door opens, and Tori smiles at me. She looks beautiful, wearing her hair wild and wavy with a loose, silky shirt and a pair of jeans. The energy she’s giving off is slightly frazzled. “Did you bring it all?”

“Yep,” I say, letting the bag drop off my shoulder. “What’s it for, exactly?”

She smiles and takes the bag. “You’ll see. Come on in. My family won’t be here for another half hour or so. I don’t think they’ll stay too long. I told them it’s a huge day for you and to just stop by for a bit.”

My stomach tightens. I’m feeling like I’ll need a whole lot of that luck today. The wide receiver class is deep this year, making it more competitive than usual. I didn’t get drafted yesterday during the second and third rounds, which, though expected, has shaken me more than I care to admit. What if I keep getting bumped down and don’t get drafted at all?

Today is the culmination of many years of work and sacrifice, and I can hardly grasp that it’ll all be over in a few hours. Either I get drafted and my future is decided for me, or I don’t get drafted and I have to keep proving myself and hoping a team picks me up before the season starts.

Or I give up on my dream entirely.

I shut the door behind me and note the empty pitcher and cups sitting on the counter. There’s a bowl of popcorn next to it, complete with a server and small sacks.

Tori sets down my bag on the sofa next to a few framed photos. “Oh, shoot,” she says. “Forgot about these. I need to get these two up on the wall”—she indicates the larger prints—“and I was going to put the others on the entry table.”

I walk closer and realize they’re pictures of us. Most are from our photoshoot, but one of the standing frames is the picture of us from the hospital—minus Tyler, who’s been mercilessly cropped out.

“I can hang them,” I say.

“Really?” She looks at me like I’m her saving grace. “That would be so helpful.”

I get to work while she starts making lemonade and giving me pointers on her family. I’ve already met Austin and Mia, but her parents will be coming, and so will Troy, Stevie, and their baby Eden.

“Siena and Jack won’t be here,” she explains. “They live up in Monterey, and it’s probably for the best, since she’s bound to have the most questions for you.”

“More than your dad?” I hammer the second nail into a stud.

“My dad is a total sweetheart. Siena…well, she can be feisty. But once she’s decided she likes you, you’re in for good.”

I blow out a breath. “And if she doesn’t decide that?”

Tori looks at me, then shakes her head. “She’ll like you.”

I really hope she’s right. “I don’t know whether I’m more nervous for the draft or your family.”

She clenches her teeth. “That’s definitely not what I was going for by agreeing to have them come.”

“I’m mostly kidding. It’ll be a good distraction. I just want to be a good husband.” I wink at her.

“Speaking of which…” She comes around from the counter and grabs the bag I brought, then she heads down the hallway.

“Where are you going?” I ask as I hang the frame. It’s a picture of me carrying her at the beach. We’re both laughing, and I can’t help a little smile at the memory of her hepatitis fears and the awkward way she was walking before I picked her up.

“As far as they know, you live here,” Tori calls from out of sight. “I’m just providing evidence.”

I furrow my brow, then set the hammer aside and follow her.

She’s in her bedroom, turning one of my socks inside out. Once she’s done, she tosses it in the air like confetti before working on the next one.

“Uh, what are you doing?”

“You never pick up your socks.” She flings the second one just shy of the hamper.

“I always pick up my socks.” I grab the first sock and toss it in the hamper.

She snatches it right back out and turns to look me in the eye. “You used to. But I’m sorry to report that you’ve gotten lazy as a married man.” She tosses the sock over her shoulder, and it falls next to the bed.

“I thought we were trying to make your family like me. They won’t be looking back here anyway, right?”

“My family is nosy, Luca.”

“Well”—I reach into the hamper and pull out the first thing—“you’ve also become lazy since getting married.”

Tori looks at my hand, and a little flash of amusement crosses her face.

A quick glance informs me I’m holding her bra.

Her eyes crinkle at the sides. “Go ahead. Toss it on the floor. We are married, after all.”

Mortified, I don’t toss it so much as drop it.

Tori reaches into the laundry bag I brought, takes my cologne out of the sock I wrapped it in for protection, and sprays it around the room. Closing her eyes, she inhales. “This stuff is like crack.”

A thrill of satisfaction trickles through me. I like to smell good. Playing football goes in direct contradiction to that, which is why I shower twice a day and own the world’s largest collection of laundry detergents and odor blasters.

The doorbell rings, and Tori’s eyes fly open. “They’re early! Of course they are. They love to make my life difficult. Okay”—she starts walking out of her room—“remember: you’re completely head over heels for me.” I follow her out of her bedroom—our bedroom, whatever—and she sets my cologne nicely on the bathroom counter. Then she reaches in my bag and grabs my toothbrush and sets it next to hers.

She puts the bag inside the laundry room, then hurries toward the door only to double back and grab my hand to pull me with her.

She stops shy of the door and looks at me. “Ready?”

“No.”

“Me neither.” She pulls open the door, and a crowd of people stares back.

“Hello!” says the woman I quickly identify as Tori’s mom. She hugs Tori, who keeps my hand in hers. Everyone else’s eyes are on me.

“Luca,” says Mrs. Sheppard, looking me over. “You’re so handsome! All those photos you sent didn’t do him justice, Siena.” And then she pulls me into a hug while my confused eyes dart to Tori. I thought Siena wasn’t coming.

“You came,” Tori says to the brunette who shoulders her way through the others, and my gaze lands on the subtle roundness of her stomach.

“Of course I did,” Siena says. “And baby and I aren’t happy about it. No real wedding and a five-and-a-half hour drive.” But she pulls Tori into a hug.

Inside, there’s a weight in the pit of my stomach. In marrying Tori, I didn’t just deprive her of a proper wedding experience, I took it away from her family too.

There’s no time to dwell on that, though. I’m too busy getting hugged and inspected by every Sheppard—all nine of them. It’s chaos, but no one has punched me yet, so we’ll call it a win.

“That dip really needs to get in the fridge, Rick,” says Mrs. Sheppard.

Mr. Sheppard salutes, then jogs back to the car.

“Might as well grab the rest of the stuff while you’re at it,” she calls after him.

Troy hands the blonde baby girl in his arms to his wife and follows his dad, as do Austin and Jack.

Seems like this is what the men are doing, so I let go of Tori’s hand and follow.

I haven’t gotten far enough to miss Mrs. Sheppard saying, “Look at that. Going to help without being asked. What a sweet boy.”

It seemed like overkill to have five grown men get whatever Mrs. Sheppard was referring to, but it’s not. The entire trunk of their SUV is covered in an assortment of foods. Dip, chips, a mini crockpot with lil’ smokies, a vegetable platter, a cheese ball made to look like a football, a tray of ham-and-cheese sliders, and a cake decorated like a football field, complete with the words Team Luca in cardinal and gold.

I stare at the array, completely bowled over by the preparation it must have required. Tori’s family doesn’t even know me. In fact, they’ve got every reason to dislike me. They could’ve showed up and given me the cold shoulder or yelled at me, but instead…

“You’re the man to trust with the football,” Mr. Sheppard says with a wink as he grabs the tray of sliders, leaving the cheese ball for me.

I obediently take the platter, then reach for the button to close the trunk. “Do you have the key to lock it?”

“Oh, it’s okay,” he says. “You can leave it open. I’ll come back in a while for the rest.”

I frown since the trunk is now empty, but I’m not about to question him, so I leave the trunk open and follow him toward the house.

He slows enough for me to catch up. “Feeling good about tonight?”

“Uh, no,” I say.

He chuckles. “It’ll be great. Any team would be lucky to have you.”

“Thanks, Mr. Sheppard.”

“It’s Rick,” he says, stopping in front of the door and facing me. “We’re family now.” His expression shifts, becoming more sober, and his brown eyes search mine. “You’ll take care of my Tori, won’t you, Luca?”

Heart suddenly racing, I nod. “I promise.”

He holds my gaze for a few eternal seconds, then smiles and opens the door for me. “I believe you.”

Inside is full of chatter, but Tori catches my eye from the kitchen. She doesn’t say anything, but her eyes apologize profusely.

“You know he calls her Victoria?” Austin takes a lil’ smoky from the Crock-Pot, and his mom smacks his hand.

“What?” Siena wrinkles her nose.

“Right?” Austin says.

“You hate being called Victoria,” Siena says as Tori sets out napkins.

“He calls me that because I’m his queen,” Tori says.

She gets blank looks, including from me.

“Hello? Queen Victoria, anyone? Ugh, you guys are so uncultured. Maybe you should’ve come with me to the Victoria and Albert Museum when we were in London.”

“We’re uncultured?” Siena says. “That’s rich, coming from the woman who eloped.”

“Speaking of which…” Troy comes through the door with his dad, holding a wrapped gift in one hand. He walks over and hands it to Tori.

“What’s this?” she asks.

“A wedding gift, of course,” he says. “Open it together.”

Tori’s eyes meet mine, and I know she’s thinking the same thing I am: the type of wedding we had doesn’t merit wedding gifts. There’s a decent chance this wedding gift will cost more than the wedding itself, and that’s…not okay.

It’s not like we can refuse, though, so we sit on the couch next to each other, and I watch her pull off the wrapping paper.

A white photo album stares back at us. On the front in an elaborate script, it says Our Wedding . Beneath is a picture from our photoshoot. It’s pixelated like someone did a screen grab from their computer.

Tori opens the album and flips through the plastic pages, which are completely blank. She looks up at her family. “Har har. Very funny.”

Everyone’s smiling at us.

“You had to know that was coming,” Austin says.

“Now for the real gift.” Mrs. Sheppard smiles and hands us another present.

Tori puts it in my lap. “Your turn.”

I stare at it for a second, a sick feeling in my stomach. I’m a terrible person for deceiving this kind family into thinking I’m at all deserving of any gift other than a right hook to the jaw.

Tori nudges me, and I push past the thoughts and pull open the paper while everyone watches and the baby coos.

It’s another album. This one isn’t white and elegant, though. It’s sleek and minimalist, with a taupe cover. The words The Story of Us are embossed in gold. On the bottom of the cover, it says The Callahans. Est. 2025 . I run my finger over the words. That’s Tori and me—the Callahans.

“You might not have many wedding memories or pictures,” Mrs. Sheppard says, “but you’ll have plenty of moments you’ll want to remember in the future, and we thought this would be a good place to store them. There are a few standard ones in there to get you started—first Christmas, birthdays, Fourth of July?—”

“First miniature you.” Troy holds up his baby like Simba.

Mrs. Sheppard shoots him an indulgent but chastising look. “But the rest is for you to fill with whatever moments you find most magical and meaningful.”

“May there be many,” Mr. Sheppard says, putting his arm around his wife and smiling down at us benevolently. “There’s also a little something in the back to get you started on those memories.”

I let the pages fall until an envelope appears nestled between the last page and the back cover. I open it and find a sheaf of hundred-dollar bills inside.

Thankfully, Tori is quicker on her feet than I am, because all I’m currently capable of is feeling like a human incarnation of horse manure.

“We love it,” she says, getting up and going to give her family hugs.

I close the envelope and the album, then set it aside, which gives me enough time to get it together and follow Tori’s lead.

When Mrs. Sheppard hugs me, she whispers in a joyful but teary voice, “Welcome to the family, Luca,” and she holds on to me a few seconds longer. “You were unexpected, but you’re no less loved because of it.”

My throat thickens. How is this family so kind and welcoming when they have every reason not to be? It’s so foreign to me. It’s been a while since I’ve been part of any family—or even wanted to be—and I wonder if Tori realizes just how lucky she is.

She might have told them to keep the visit short, but the Sheppards seem like they’re planning on being here all day and evening. Given all the talking and eating and food prep going on, it’s not until Austin turns on the TV that I realize the recap of what’s happened in the first two days of the draft and the analyses for the remaining rounds are starting.

My nerves ramp up, going from zero to sixty. What if the Sheppards all came here and I don’t get drafted at all? I can’t imagine sitting on that couch for hours, my stomach dropping with each name that’s called that’s not my own, only to have it end with my name unannounced.

“Hey,” Troy says, shaking me from my thoughts, “would you mind holding her for a sec? Stevie needs help in the kitchen.” He lifts his baby, Eden, to indicate who exactly he wants me to hold.

I open my mouth to offer to help Stevie rather than taking the baby—I’ve never actually held one this small before—but Troy’s already handing her over.

I must look as awkward as I feel, trying to figure out how to support her weight because Troy smiles at me. “She loves being held on her tummy. Just think of her like a football. Protect her at all costs.” He slaps my shoulder, then leaves to help his wife.

He might’ve been joking about the football thing, but his advice actually helps, and miraculously, Eden doesn’t cry.

Tori comes over and smiles at her. Eden’s chin rests on my arm near my elbow, and she turns her head every which way with wide-eyed curiosity.

“She’s slobbering all over your arm,” Tori says.

I lean forward and confirm that the warmth I’ve been feeling on my arm is indeed a steady stream of slobber.

“Sorry if Troy foisted her on you,” Tori says.

“The distraction is good.”

She searches my face, then nods. “Good.”

My heart skips as I hear my name on the TV. Everyone cheers as the analysts discuss whether they think I’ll go in the fourth or fifth round. One says he sees me going to either the Copperheads or the Sunrays in fourth round, while the other argues I’m a 5th round Guardians shoo-in. The third one gives his input about the possibility of my not being selected until late seventh round or possibly at all due to my size and speed.

“There are just too many other great options for these teams trying to add depth to their chart in this position,” he argues.

His comments drop in the pit of my stomach like an anvil, but they’re followed by a chorus of boos.

“Shuuuut uuuup,” Siena says, throwing popcorn at the TV.

“Guy’s a complete fool,” says Jack. “Every team should have a really strong wide receiver on their roster.”

“Hey,” Tori says to me quietly.

I look at her, and she reaches up to wrap an errant hair around my bun. “That guy’s full of it. You’re getting picked today. I just know it.”

She doesn’t know it, but her words still help me calm a bit. It’s nice to be surrounded by a roomful of people who believe in me. Grandma always did, but before that, my mom’s boyfriend Clint was always making fun of my football dreams. Mom was mostly quiet. She never liked to go against Clint. He was a bully.

“Thanks for holding her,” Troy says, taking Eden from my arms. “Stevie always claims to need help opening jars, but really, she just wants to check out my muscles.” He winks at his wife, who rolls her eyes but smiles.

“It was no problem,” I say. Do I wait until he’s not looking to wipe the slobber off my arm?

But Tori’s one step ahead. She grabs a dish towel and pats down my arm. “Did she bite you? She’s a teething monster right now.” She pinches Eden’s cheek softly. “But she’s the cutest little monster I’ve ever seen, aren’t you, my little princess?”

Eden shows her nearly toothless grin.

“Come sit down, you two,” Siena’s husband Jack says, nodding at the empty spot on the couch. “They’re getting started.”

Here come the nerves again.

I follow Tori to the couch, where Jack is sitting on one end. Siena’s not there, but I sit against the opposite edge from Jack, and Tori sits next to me.

Jack and Austin are debating whether Austin’s favorite player from University of Texas will go this round when Siena comes back over and plops down on the couch.

“Hi, hello,” Tori says. “You’re sitting on me.”

“Scooch over,” Siena says, eyes on the screen and hand in her refilled popcorn.

Tori stares at her for a second, then grabs a piece of popcorn and chucks it at her sister’s face.

Siena grabs the piece when it falls to her lap, then plops it in her mouth.

Tori sighs, then scoots closer to me.

There simply isn’t room for my arm between us, so I pull it out and sling it over the back. It’s long enough that my hand hovers behind Siena, which feels weird, so I try a couple of shifts, then settle for resting my arm around Tori’s shoulders.

She doesn’t react. I’m not even sure she noticed. But as the first 4 th round pick is announced, she leans in to me in a way that scrambles my nerves, making it impossible to tell what percentage is due to the draft and what percentage is due to her. It’s nice having someone to hold onto while my nerves go haywire, though.

There’s a knock on the door, and Mr. Sheppard answers it.

Zach walks in, and Tori introduces him quickly to her family while my eyes stay glued to the screen.

He comes up behind the couch and squeezes my shoulders. “We’ve got this, Callahan.”

I nod, but the only thing I’ve got for certain right now is a desire to vomit.

Mrs. Sheppard insists Zach come get some food, and I’m grateful. Right now, I don’t need pep talks. Holding onto Tori is helping my nerves the most. Which should probably scare me, but I’m not going to think about that right now.

My phone is in my pocket, pressed between my leg and hers. I’ve got it on vibrate because I don’t want everyone to know when the call comes in. If it does.

But the fourth round ends with no call and no pick for me. The Copperheads and the Sunrays choose different wide receivers, and my stomach starts to churn more and more.

Tori grabs my hand and threads her fingers through it without saying a word or even looking at me. Is it weird that I find the clamminess of her hand sweet? She’s nervous for me. It also makes me smile slightly as I remember her making fun of how sweaty my hands were at the hospital. I’ll definitely be teasing her about this later.

Unless I’m too busy being depressed because I didn’t get drafted.

I shake off the depressing thoughts. I’ve got to think positively.

I can hear Zach, Troy, and Austin arguing which teams will make it all the way to the Superbowl as a commercial break starts. When I glance back, Zach’s holding Troy’s baby. He’s confident, unlike I was, and he holds her up in the air and smiles at her.

She smiles right back. And then spits up in his face.

Tori snorts and hides her face in my shoulder while Troy apologizes and directs Zach to the bathroom. The corner of my mouth twitches, and I lean my head into Tori’s hair.

“You’re terrible,” I whisper with a smile.

My phone vibrates, and my smile vanishes.

Tori pulls away and looks at me, a question in her eyes. The question.

“I’m going to run to the bathroom,” I say to her.

She knows it’s not true—Zach’s in the bathroom—but I get up and head that direction, leaving my phone in my pocket until I get to Tori’s room.

I pull it out, my heart beating against my ribs like a jackhammer on concrete. Afraid I’ll miss it, I answer right away.

“Hello?” My voice is suddenly fit for a soprano.

“Luca Callahan?”

“Yeah.”

“This is Coach Staley. How are you?”

If I answered honestly, it’d be something along the lines of I’m about to puke all over my wife’s carpet , but he’s just being polite, so I say, “I’m good, sir. How are you?” I know who Coach Staley is, though, and I know what this call likely is. That doesn’t stop my brain from concocting all sorts of unlikely reasons he’s called me that aren’t because I’m getting drafted.

“I’m doing great, thanks. And I’m about to make your day a lot better, I hope. How would you like to be the newest member of the San Diego Admirals, Luca?”

When I respond, my voice sounds weird and breathless. “I’d love that.”

He chuckles. “I’m glad to hear it because we just turned in the card, and you’re our pick. We’re excited to have you on board, Luca. We think you’ve got a lot to offer this team.”

“Thank you for the opportunity, Coach. I’m ready to work.”

“That’s what I like to hear. We’ve got big plans for you. Coach Tate will be your position coach, and he’ll be calling you soon. We’ll talk more once the two of you have touched base. Congratulations, Luca.”

The door opens a crack, and Tori peeks her head in, her eyes wide and alert.

“Thank you, Coach,” I say.

The line clicks off.

Tori steps into the room and shuts the door behind her, her eyes questioning me.

My mouth stretches into the goofiest grin I’ve ever worn. “It was the Admirals. The Admirals picked me.”

Tori lets out a shaky laugh, then after a second of hesitation, runs over to me and jumps into my arms.

I catch her as she wraps her legs around me and buries her face in my neck. “I knew you’d be picked.” Her arms tighten around me.

I shut my eyes and hold her tighter, breathing it all in—the relief, the euphoria, Tori. It’s overwhelming in the very best way. I can’t believe this is happening.

She pulls back and looks down at me, her eyes sparkling. “You did it.”

“We did it.” I couldn’t have done it without her.

Her eyes search mine, then flit to my lips. If my hands were free, I’d pull her mouth to mine, but she’s in my arms, so it has to be her. She has to be the one to make the move.

My heart pounds faster as I wait—wait for her to lower her head and kiss me. I want her to. So badly. Like, now that I’ve gotten the thing I most want in life, this is what I want next. To kiss my wife.

She leans closer and shuts her eyes. I close mine too, every nerve firing as I wait for contact.

There’s a knock on the door. “Luca?!” It’s Zach.

Tori pulls away, and I let her slip down to the floor.

“Yeah,” I call back, my voice embarrassingly breathless. I go to the door and open it.

Zach’s shirt has a big wet spot on the chest where he’s attacked the spit-up. “Was that…?” He spots Tori behind me. “Oh. I thought maybe you’d gotten a call.” His disappointment is palpable, and I’m wondering what he thinks was happening in the room. Does he think we were…doing something? He knows the real situation between Tori and me.

But, to be fair, we kind of were doing something. Until he arrived.

Which is probably for the best. So, why do I feel such intense frustration with his timing?

“Come here,” I say, and I gently push past him, leading the way back to the living room.

I glance behind me as Tori comes out of the room, her eyes on me. What’s she thinking right now? Is she bummed Zach showed up? Or is she relieved now that we’re out of the moment?

I jerk my head toward the living room, inviting her to join, and she walks over to stand next to me.

The commissioner’s voice comes on over the mic on the TV. “With the 135th pick in the 5th of this year’s NFL Draft, the San Diego Admirals select Luca Callahan, wide receiver, USC.”

The room erupts. Popcorn goes flying in the air, everyone’s out of their seats, and there’s an unintelligible barrage of yells. Zach bear hugs me, and soon I’m being clobbered by everyone there.

I’ve won a lot of big games over the years, but nothing compares to this feeling right here.

“We need a picture!” Mrs. Sheppard says, scrambling for her phone. She tries to do a selfie, and Austin steps in to take over, getting everyone in the shot in a way his mom couldn’t manage.

“Now you and Tori,” Mrs. Sheppard insists.

Everyone else ditches us, and Tori comes up next to me.

Why am I suddenly so nervous?

I put my arm around her, and she puts hers around the back of my waist. We look at her mom, who takes so many shots, Tori looks up at me and laughs.

And it’s that moment, looking down into her face with a grin of my own, when I realize: this is the best day of my life, and Tori’s the one who made it happen.