Chapter 14

14

TORI

$4 million.

That’s what Luca’s four-year contract with the Admirals offers.

It’s an eye-popping number to me, but once my family leaves and we have a chance to talk with Zach about it, I realize how deceptive that number is. The only money he’s guaranteed is the signing bonus, which is $400,000. It’s still a boatload of money, but the rest comes in chunks based on his being kept on the team, which is far from guaranteed. In fact, statistically, it’s fairly unlikely. The chances of him getting injured, traded, or cut are frighteningly high.

I try not to think of the injured option. Or the others, honestly.

Meanwhile, the signing bonus—and the contract itself, technically—only take effect once he gets his employment authorization, which we’re still waiting on.

“Preston scheduled you for your biometrics appointment on Monday,” Zach says. “Shouldn’t take too long. I assume you saw the email he sent with everything you need to take along?”

I glance at Luca, since I haven’t checked my email all day. Based on his expression, he hasn’t either.

My mind veers away from the authorization and back to my room. I can’t believe we almost kissed. I mean, we’ve kissed before. For show.

This wasn’t that. No one was in sight. I jumped into the man’s arms, for heaven’s sake, like I was Allie from The Notebook .

I don’t know what came over me. Or him, because I swear he had every intention of kissing me too.

Chills ripple over my skin.

I actually do know what came over us, though. It was the excitement of knowing he’d been picked. We both got caught up in the moment. That’s all.

The thought of letting anyone in the way I let Ryan in sends a different type of chill over me. I may be jumping back into more risk, but getting romantically involved with someone isn’t one I’m willing to take. It would be crazy to do that when the end of Luca’s and my manufactured relationship is already planned.

Zach’s mention of the biometrics appointment is a nice reminder of what exactly we’re doing here.

Luca and Zach have a lot to discuss, so I work on cleaning up, rejecting Luca’s offer to help.

It’s not until almost ten that Zach finally leaves and I have a chance to talk to Luca.

Luca joins me in the kitchen, where I’m at the sink, washing dishes. He hip-checks me to make room for himself, and we get into a routine where he gets the dishes soapy, and I rinse them.

I force my voice to keep calm when I finally get the courage to talk. “Hey, sorry about that…thing in my bedroom.”

His hand slows on the plate he’s scrubbing, but only for a second before it’s back to scrubbing at full speed. “There’s no need to apologize.”

I steal a sideways glance at him. What does that mean? Does it mean he wants me to know he doesn’t regret it? Or that it meant nothing? Ugh. Why is communicating so hard?

I hesitate, and he hands me a dish. I just need to be direct. “I just want to make sure we’re on the same page, you know?”

He glances over at me, his eyes searching my face for a moment before he looks at the dishes again. “Why don’t you tell me what page you’re on?”

I give a nervous laugh. “Okay. My page, if I had to describe it, would talk about how I was so excited for you that I got caught up in the moment. And…it would have a paragraph about how I’m not looking for anything more than friendship.” Heart beating fast, I steal another glance at him, but the man’s face is like a vault. “Your turn.”

His brow knits, and he takes a second before responding. “My page would be similar. I don’t do relationships. I hardly do friendship, to be honest. It’s just…not my thing. My focus is on football, and I want to keep it that way.”

I give a decisive nod, ignoring the twisting feeling in my heart. I’ve got to keep this light, though. Not just this situation. This whole marriage thing. It’s a means to an end for both of us. A part of that, for me, is repaying Luca for saving my life. The last thing I want to do is end up making him feel some sort of emotional obligation toward me because I’ve gotten attached.

“So,” I say, “we agree that we’re definitely nothing more than friends. But you don’t do friendship. So…what does that make us? I feel like the stranger train has kind of left the station.”

He laughs softly and hands me the last dish, then turns to look at me. “We’re friends, Tori. I just want you to know that I’m not very good at it. Friendship, I mean.”

I finish rinsing the dish, set it on the drying rack, then turn off the faucet and face him. “I think you’re wrong about that.” Not once since I met him has Luca let me down.

“Agree to disagree.” He puts out his hand to shake. “Friend.”

I smile and take his hand. “Agree to disagree, friend.”

The biometrics appointment goes off without a hitch, but Luca has to leave right after. His schedule, which was busy before the draft, is now a nightmare. Between his last exercise science classes, studying, team workouts, calls with Zach and his new coaches, the man must barely sleep.

Meanwhile, I’m fielding my own messages from people congratulating him and us. My family is over the moon he got picked by a team just a couple of hours away.

So is Jess. “When will you move?”

“Huh?” I ask, entering numbers quickly on the ten-key, my eyes on the screen to watch for accuracy.

“To San Diego,” she says with a hint of impatience.

I stop typing and look at her while my brain registers her question and the expectation behind it. Sometimes, I forget that no one else knows the plan. “Oh. Yeah, I’m not sure. Probably not for a while.”

“What? Why?”

“Um, because I have a job,” I say with an incredulous laugh.

“A job you should quit,” she replies. “You’re married to a man who just signed a contract to become a millionaire. Your working days are over, babe.”

“I like my job,” I say, but even I don’t believe me.

She snorts. “Right. Even if that were true, you could find almost this exact job anywhere on the coast.”

She’s not wrong. Administrative assisting is a generic position that I could easily be doing in pretty much any sector in any part of the U.S.

“But you wouldn’t be there,” I say with a big, cheesy grin and fluttering lashes.

She just looks at me, waiting for a real explanation.

I sigh, resigned. “First of all, I have nowhere to move. Luca’s busy enough with everything else that we haven’t looked at places yet. Second, enough is up in the air with his contract that I don’t want to do anything rash. It’s called financial savvy. Third, his entire summer is basically going to be taken up by training, so it’s not like we’ll get much time together if I move right away.”

“So, what, you’ll just go down to see him every weekend?”

“Yep,” I say, with no intention whatsoever of doing that.

It’s days before I see Luca next, and the occasion of our meeting is another call with Preston at Zach’s office.

“Great news, Luca,” Preston says. “I got word your EAD was officially approved.”

Zach does a fist pump, and Luca’s shoulders sag with relief.

It’s the last piece that needed to fall into place for him to be eligible to attend rookie mini camp. It starts in two days, so he’s been waiting to see whether he needed to head to San Diego tomorrow or not.

“I got the marriage certificate in the mail yesterday,” Luca says. “Do you need that?”

“Absolutely. In fact, can you overnight it to me?”

Luca nods.

“Wait,” Preston says, “actually…Tori, do you have time to pop over to the Social Security Office and the DMV and get your name changed today? Then overnight the certificate to me after?”

My gaze flies to Luca’s.

“We were thinking she’d keep her last name,” he says.

“A lot of people keep their own last names these days,” I offer, as though Preston might be unaware of this modern development.

“Definitely,” he replies. “But, and hear me out on this, I don’t think that’s the wisest course here. With Luca getting drafted and with his record, we can expect a bit more scrutiny on your immigration papers than usual, so we want to make sure everything’s airtight and we’re not giving them reason to flag your file. Sharing a last name may feel old-school, but it sends the type of message we want them to receive.”

Luca grimaces, then opens his mouth, but I cut him off.

“That makes sense. And it’s no problem. It was mostly a laziness thing. I hate the DMV.”

“You’re in good company,” Preston says jovially. “All right, well, look, after we get this stuff submitted and we get the lease with your names on it, we’ll have a little break until about September.”

“Is that when I get the green card?” Luca asks.

“I wish,” Preston says. “You’ll have your interview with USCIS at that point, then maybe 1-2 months after that you’ll receive your green card. It’ll be what they call a conditional green card since you’ve been married less than two years. You can apply to have that conditional status removed ninety days before you and Tori celebrate your two-year anniversary.”

My gaze is fixed on Luca, whose wide eyes sweep to me. He looks like he just got gut-punched. Just like I thought, he had no clue. How does he feel knowing we have to stay married that long?

I don’t do relationships . And he just found out he has to be in this one a lot longer than he thought. He can’t be thrilled.

Zach thanks Preston for all his hard work, then wraps up the call.

“You guys did it,” he says. “Once you get that name change done and the certificate to Preston, you get to take a break from all this.”

“Yay!” I say because Luca is completely silent.

Two people stop in the hallway in front of the glass wall of Zach’s office. One’s in a suit, while the other is a massive guy in a polo and slacks.

Zach checks his watch and swears. “It’s later than I thought. I’ve got a client meeting. Sorry to give you the boot like this, but we’ll be in touch, Callahan.”

Luca doesn’t even respond. He gets up like a zombie and follows me out of the office.

“It’s too late for me to make it to the Social Security Office or the DMV today,” I say in an upbeat voice as we get in the elevator, “but I’ll go first thing tomorrow morning, then get the certificate sent off right after.”

He’s silent.

“I’m so glad the EAD is done,” I continue as the elevator stops on the main floor. “That’s got to be a huge relief—for you and Zach. It means your contract with the Admirals goes into effect officially, right?” I step out of the elevator, and so does he.

We haven’t taken more than a few steps when he takes me by the hand, pushes open the nearest door, and pulls me through it.

It’s a stairwell, and the shutting of the door echoes loudly on the cement stairs and walls.

I face him, my gaze intent as he scrubs a hand over his stubble.

“You weren’t surprised,” he says.

I consider playing dumb but decide against it. “No.”

He shakes his head, looking at the wall next to him. “How long have you known?”

“A week or so? I was looking up stuff for the biometrics appointment and stumbled on some other stuff. It kind of snowballed from there.”

He looks me in the eye. “And you didn’t tell me.”

“It was right before the draft. I didn’t want to saddle you with more stress right then.”

“But you didn’t tell me after, either.”

“I haven’t seen you. You’re so busy, and I didn’t feel like ‘hey, we’re going to be married a lot longer than we thought’ was a conversation for text. Besides, it’s not that big of a deal.” At least not to me.

“Not that big of a deal?” he repeats. “We thought we’d be married a few months. Now Preston says it’s gotta be two years.” He shakes his head and steps back. “I can’t do it.”

I swallow and look at the cement floor, feeling more hurt than I should. This shouldn’t be a surprise. Neither of us signed up for a two-year marriage, and Luca told me himself that he doesn’t do relationships or even friendship. He’s made an exception because he needs this marriage.

But maybe it’s taking more of a toll on him than I realized.

I look up and find him watching me.

“You deserve better than this,” he says, his voice soft but clear.

My brows pull together. “Wait. Are you saying you can’t do this because of me?”

“Of course I am. I should never have let you, even when we thought it was just paperwork. And now?” He grimaces. “It just keeps getting more involved and eating up more of your life. You say you don’t want to get married, and maybe that’s how you feel now, but how will you feel in two years? Two years, Tori. You know what can happen in that amount of time?”

“I do,” I say. “It took two years of being with me before Ryan decided he didn’t want me anymore.” He opens his mouth, but I put up a hand. “I’m not trying to get your pity, Luca. I’m just making it clear I’m not interested in signing myself up for an experience like that again. Preston could say we have to be married for ten years, and it wouldn’t change anything about my love life. But that’s just me, and I’m not the only one in this marriage.”

He shakes his head, apparently sensing where I’m going. “No.” The word is hard and firm. When he speaks again, his voice is softer, but it’s still firm. “This marriage is it for me.”

I search his face, wondering why in the world a guy like him would say something like that. Maybe he has his own Ryan story in his past. A broken heart.

“Two years is a long time, Tori,” he repeats.

I stare back at him, and a little thought in my brain says, not with you . I swat it away. “I’m not worried about it, okay? We’ve already been married a month, and it’s flown by, right?” I wait for him to confirm. “ Right ? Or maybe this has been the longest month of your life.”

He shakes his head. “No. It has flown by.”

“See? And you’ll be so busy killing it in the NFL, you won’t even notice two years. How fast did your last two seasons go by?”

He raises his brows to acknowledge my point. “Crazy fast.”

“Exactly. And I’ll be busy figuring out what I want to do with my life. It’ll be over before we know it. Besides, what’s the alternative?”

He lifts his shoulders. “Divorce?”

I press my lips together with displeasure, but inside I’m surprised at how much the word stings. “So unromantic. And impractical. Divorce wouldn’t accomplish anything.”

“Sure it would.”

“If by accomplish you mean get you kicked out of the NFL and deported, then yeah. Sure.”

His brows snap together. “What do you mean?”

This is where I have to break the other part of the news—the part he didn’t get from Preston because Preston doesn’t realize the actual stakes here. He still thinks he’s representing two clients who fell in love at first sight.

I don’t relish the job of informing Luca exactly what we’ve gotten ourselves into. Seems like this should be Zach’s job. It was his idea, after all. But clearly, he can’t be relied upon. Or maybe he’s ignorant too. I don’t know what to think anymore.

“That research I mentioned doing?” I say.

Luca nods.

“I found out a lot. Like, did you know it’s a crime to marry for the purpose of getting a green card?”

His dark eyes search mine, and his Adam’s apple bobs.

I offer a half-smile and bump him with my elbow, hoping to lighten the mood. “We’re a regular Bonnie and Clyde, you and I.”

His face grows grimmer. “That story doesn’t have the greatest ending.”

“I mean, would I prefer not to go out of this life in a hail of bullets? Yes, but at this point, any time I get is bonus, thanks to you.”

Luca drops his head and runs a hand along the top of his hair, then grasps his bun tightly until his knuckles turn white. “So, I saved your life to turn you into a criminal. A criminal like me.”

“I think you’re taking too much credit. For all you know, I was already a hardened criminal before you met me.”

His head comes up. “Come on, Tori. This is serious.”

I let my smile fade. “I know. But we’re going to be all right, okay? We’re doing everything we can to show immigration we’re serious about this marriage, and that’s got to count for something. You don’t have to take all of the burden on your shoulders.” My gaze sweeps to those shoulders, which look plenty capable of carrying any burden.

But I’m starting to wonder if Luca’s appearance is more misleading than I’d realized.

He’s quiet. Tortured and quiet. I hate that he feels so miserable right when his dreams are coming true.

“You look like a man who just got a two-year torture sentence,” I say. “I find it offensive.”

Amusement twinkles in his eyes, like a single star in a dark sky. “You’ve got a joke for everything, don’t you?”

“I hope so.” I chuck him under the chin like he did to me once. “Lighten up, Crusher. We’ve got this.” I shrug. “We can’t unring the bell, so we may as well make the best of it. Face it. You’re stuck with me, which I get is kind of a terrifying prospect.”

He stares at me for a few seconds, and I wish I knew how he really feels about being tied to me for the next two years. Ryan couldn’t bring himself to spend any more time with me than that. Now that he knows me better, maybe Luca feels similarly. Maybe the prospect of being stuck with me for that long outweighs the NFL dream.

For all his face is telling me, he could be feeling anything right now. Or nothing.

Why does he have to be so good at hiding his emotions?

He takes a single step toward me, then wraps his arms around me and pulls me toward him.

I freeze, my breath hitching.

“For the record,” he says into my hair, “being stuck with you is a breeze.”

I swallow away the sudden thickness in my throat and relax into the hug. Hugging Luca is like nothing I’ve ever experienced, a cocoon of warmth and cologne, a sense of well-being and protection, like my own personal force field. The utter solidness of him is reassuring. “You’re no slouch yourself.”

His breathy laugh tickles my ear, then he sighs. “I’m just worried about you.”

“I know you are.” I pull back and fix my gaze on his. “But I’m telling you, Luca—I’m in this. Whatever we’ve got to do to sell this marriage, I’m ready. So, until I say flibbertigibbet , please trust that I’m okay. More than okay. I’m having fun. And it’d be great if you were too.”

His eyes search mine. “You’re having fun…”

“Yeah,” I confirm. “Ever since that semi, I never know what’s coming next, which is the exact opposite of my job, and it’s giving me life! Life’s too short and can end too quickly to waste it doing boring things. Or law-abiding things. Right?”

Our gazes hold for a few seconds while he decides how to answer. I just want him to be happy. To enjoy the fact that he’s achieved the thing he’s wanted for so long. To smile and laugh and not worry about me anymore. Is that even possible for him?

On a desperate whim, I pull my arms from behind his back and start tickling him.

The reaction is immediate: he doubles over at the same time as a pig squeal echoes throughout the stairwell. The next second, he’s got me by the wrists, which he pins behind my back.

I blink and stare up at him. There are definitely no pigs in this stairwell, and I sure didn’t make that sound. “Whoa.”

“I’m…” He clears his throat. “A little ticklish.”

My brows go up. My chest is pressed against his. This man is determined not to let me go and risk being tickled again. “A little?”

“Fine,” he concedes. “A lot.”

I take note of this interesting fact and store it in my mental files. Luca’s not the type of person you’d think could form the sound that came out of him even if he wanted to. It’s like hearing Michael Jackson’s voice come out of The Rock.

The door opens, and a man with a briefcase in hand stops abruptly on the threshold, looking at us through thick-rimmed glasses. “Oh.”

Luca lets go of my wrists and steps back.

I smile at the intruder, even though I’m secretly annoyed. Has he never heard of an elevator? Everyone knows stairwells are for action movie scenes and secret trysts.

Not that what we’re doing qualifies as either of those. Though, the way Luca held my hands behind my back kind of had action movie vibes.

The man laughs nervously, his eyes darting between us as he gives us a wide berth on his way to the stairs. “I’m trying to make healthier choices.”

“Aren’t we all?” I say.

He forces a smile and makes his way up the stairs like I’m the villain in this action sequence and he’s worried about becoming collateral damage.

“We should probably get going,” Luca says with the sound of the guy’s feet shuffling on the cement stairs echoing through the stairwell.

“We’re not going anywhere until I know you’re not freaking out anymore,” I say.

“If you’re not freaking out, I’m not freaking out.”

“I’m never freaking out.”

He smiles slightly. “I actually believe you.”

“Good,” I say. “You should believe me. I’m your wife.”

And I will be for the next two years.