Chapter 16

16

TORI

“Are these amazing, or does everything just taste better while you’re on the beach?” I take another bite of my fish taco as we walk barefoot along the surf. The afternoon shadows are lengthening, and the sun, low on the horizon, casts a warm glow around the surfers bobbing up and down with each wave that rolls in.

Luca finishes chewing. “Both. I warned you they were good.” He takes the last bite of his taco.

When he said he was hungry, he wasn’t just saying it to make me feel better about eating dinner at the same time as a toddler has an afternoon snack. He’s eaten five tacos already compared to my two and a half, and I could swear he’s eyeing what’s left of mine. I can’t imagine how much sustenance is required to maintain a man of his height and build.

I take another small bite, then hand the taco to him.

He raises his brows. “You go on about how good it is, then you give it to me?”

“Gotta save room for dessert,” I say. “I have really high expectations for it now, just so you know.”

He chuckles and downs the second half of my taco like it’s a piece of popcorn.

I look around, breathing in the salty air. I don’t live all that far from the ocean, but somehow, I rarely make it there. There’s also just a different feel to the beaches in San Diego. They feel less chaotic, more…grounded.

I look at the houses that line this section of the coast.

“What a dream,” I say. “Can you imagine what it’d be like to look out your window and see this view? For this to be the soundtrack of your life?”

A huge line of kids in sopping wetsuits with surfboards tucked under their arms jog toward us while seagulls call above and little kids laugh and run from the waves. I can’t help comparing it to the soundtrack of my life: pings from work emails, the roll of my office chair wheels on the plastic floor cover, and my neighbor Mrs. Horton yelling at her husband every morning and evening—basically whenever he’s home.

Luca looks out over the scene. “I always dreamed of living by the ocean.”

“Really?”

He nods, smiling slightly as a mother saves her toddler from getting wiped out by a wave. “I grew up in the middle of Canada—about as far from the ocean as you can get.”

I narrow my eyes as I look at his profile. There’s so much I don’t know about him. I forget he’s Canadian, even though that’s the whole reason we’re in this marriage. “What brought you to the U.S.?”

He glances at me, then away. “My mom sent me to live with my grandma.” He says it in a flat voice, but I get the sense there’s more to it.

“To help your grandma out?” I ask, gently inviting him to expound.

He shakes his head. “My mom’s boyfriend wanted me gone.”

I blink. “Jeez. What a jerk.”

“Yeah. He was.”

I can’t say I think much of his mom, either, if she bowed to the guy’s pressure. If I had a son and my boyfriend wanted him gone, there’s no question which one of them would get the boot.

“Look.” He points away from the shore. I scan the area until I find it: a for rent sign in the yard of one of the houses up ahead.

I raise my brows and look at him. “It’s gotta be ridiculously expensive.”

“Wanna go check it out anyway? For fun?”

I scoff. “Absolutely I do!”

We toss our garbage in a bin and jog up the closest set of stairs we can find that leads into the neighborhood. It’s got light suburban vibes, but the houses are all completely unique.

We walk the sidewalk that leads to the house in question, surrounded on both sides by well-maintained plants, then step up to the ocean-blue front door. Luca knocks firmly three times, and we wait for a couple of minutes.

“Well, dang,” I say. “I was excited to pretend I lived here for a few minutes.”

“Me too.” Luca turns with me just as the door opens.

We stop and look back at the white-haired man standing in the doorway. He looks confused. “Can I help you?”

“Hi,” I say, suddenly doubting myself. There’s no for rent poster in the front yard, but I’m pretty sure we got the right house. “We thought we saw a sign in the backyard about the house being for rent…”

The man looks between us for a second, then his mouth spreads into an amused, denture-filled grin. “You did see that. Come on in.”

I glance at Luca, confused by the man’s strange reaction, but he just shrugs and nods for me to follow the man inside.

He shuts the door behind us, then shuffles along the hallway, motioning for us to come along. We walk the sand-colored hardwood until we reach the living room. The back wall is lined with windows with a view to a big deck, a yard, and the beach beyond. To our right, a large, L-shaped sectional invites us to sit down and watch TV, while gray shaker-style cabinets line the kitchen on the left.

The man stops just beyond the opening to the kitchen, then reaches for something against the wall and pulls it out. It’s a for rent sign.

“I put up that sign half an hour ago,” he says with a smile. “The reason it took me so long to get to the door was because I went to take it down.”

My brows shoot up. “Oh! Um, okay. Well, that’s totally fine. We can just?—”

He puts a hand up to stop me. “This house has been in my family since I was a boy.” He looks around, a deep fondness in his eyes. “It’s the house I brought my young bride home to.”

I smile grimacingly. From the sheen in his eyes, I get the sense he’s a widower.

“We’ve never rented it,” he goes on, “but I’m going to Arizona to take care of my sister, and she’s been trying to persuade me to. Today, I finally put out the sign. Until I got cold feet.” He chuckles self-deprecatingly and looks at Luca and me again. “You look like a nice young couple—not the type to party a place into the ground. Are you really interested in renting?”

I look at Luca again. This was supposed to be a “for fun” thing. There’s no way he can afford to rent a house right on the beach. Or at least, there’s no way he should .

“Yeah, we are,” Luca replies, not missing a beat. “What sort of rent are you looking for?”

The man tips his head from side to side. “That’s negotiable. Why don’t I show you around first, then we can see if you’re still interested?”

Only an insane person wouldn’t be. It’s a large beach-front property, for heaven’s sake. It’s in great shape, but you can tell it’s been a beloved home. It has four bedrooms, three bathrooms, and a garage plenty big enough for Luca’s workout equipment. The yard facing the ocean is the biggest selling point, though, with a deck that runs the length of the house, a hot tub on one end, and a grassy area surrounded by various types of cacti and flowering plants and bushes. A few boogie boards and beach toys sit atop a storage bin in the corner.

“What do you think?” The man—Mr. Ross—asks.

“It’s amazing,” I say, touching a finger to the enormous succulent in the tall pot next to me.

“It is,” Luca confirms. “Why don’t you tell me what you think a fair rent would be?”

Mr. Ross thinks for a minute, then shoots out a number that has my jaw on the floor.

“But,” I bumble, “that’s nothing.” I don’t know for certain, but I’d guess places in this neighborhood rent for at least three times what he’s asking.

Mr. Ross just laughs. “I’m not trying to make a fortune here. The house has been paid off for years and years. I’d like to cover the costs and make sure it’s well cared for is all. I’d rather leave it vacant and send someone out to check on things once a week than rent it to the wrong people.”

Luca nods. “If you feel comfortable with it, I’d love to rent it from you, sir.”

I elbow him.

“We,” he corrects himself. “ We’d love to rent it from you. I’m assuming you’d like to do a credit check?—”

The man waves that suggestion off and smiles at us. “I’m old school. I go off my gut. You’ll pay on time, right?”

“Absolutely,” Luca says. “In fact, I’d be happy to pay for a few months upfront.”

We sit down at the deck table with glasses of water while Mr. Ross gets the contract his niece drew up. Luca and I look it over, and Luca insists on changing the rental amount to 50% higher than what Mr. Ross has listed.

I smile as I listen to him bully the man into accepting more money. Luca insists he’s not a good friend. He’s so much more than that, though. He’s a great person all-around. What person negotiates their rental rate up ?

“He can be really bossy,” I say to Mr. Ross, sending a smile at Luca.

We sign our names on the contract—with a move-in date of next weekend—then Mr. Ross takes it inside to make a photocopy, something I end up having to help him with.

I keep having to remind myself I’m not actually going to be living here. It’s depressing, but like Luca said, I can come anytime I want.

Mr. Ross and I head back outside, where Luca’s looking out over the ocean by the beach equipment.

“Do you two boogie board?” Mr. Ross asks.

“Yes,” I say at the same time Luca says “No.”

Mr. Ross chuckles as I shoot a questioning look at Luca.

“I’ve never tried,” he says.

“Never tried boogie boarding?” I say with the same incredulity I’d use if he told me he’d never tasted chocolate.

“Sounds like you’d better take those for a spin,” Mr. Ross says with a twinkle. “You can’t live here without knowing how to boogie board, Mr. Callahan.”

“I didn’t see that in the contract,” Luca says with a little smile.

“The fine print,” Mr. Ross teases.

I grab two boards, deaf to Luca’s excuses about not having swimsuits and the sun going down soon. I pull him through the back gate and down the steps to the beach. He finally gives up when I pull him into the water. It’s a good thing too because I couldn’t drag him anywhere he didn’t want to go any more than I could drag an anchor.

The horizon pulls the sun downward like a magnet while I teach Luca the refined art of boogie boarding. To my utter annoyance, he eclipses me in skill within half an hour. He starts taking pleasure in guiding his board as close to mine as possible while we ride the waves. I’m not one to back down, so it becomes a battle to see who can knock the other person off their board. He has an itty-bitty advantage over me in size, but I do my best to yank him with me.

It gets too dark to continue safely, and we ride the last wave in.

Our clothes are plastered to us, and I keep my eyes trained away from Luca’s body. They sneak a few peeks anyway.

Mr. Ross is inside his kitchen on the phone, so we set the boards back where they were and head to the car. I’ve got sand in every crevice of my body, including parts hitherto unknown to anatomy experts.

Luca suggests we get ice cream from one of the nearby shops, but I’m already cold, so he buys warm churros instead. We re-live the best boogie boarding moments as we eat them by the light of the rising moon.

I pull out my phone. “We need a picture.”

“We do?”

“Yes,” I say decisively. “I’m in desperate need of photographic evidence for Jess—she’s my coworker, and she’s kind of obsessed with us—and didn’t Preston say we should be sending him more pictures?”

“True.”

I put my phone up for a selfie, and Luca rests his head against mine as he looks into the camera. There’s none of the awkwardness that was there when I forced him to take that first picture to send to my family. It just feels…natural, him and me.

***

By the time we pull up at his hotel, it’s 9:30, and I’ve got a decent drive home ahead of me.

I plug my address into Google Maps, and my jaw slips open. “What?!”

He’s busy redirecting all the heater vents toward me, but at that, he stops.

“Four and a half hours!” I say incredulously, showing him my phone. Without traffic, it should be closer to one and a half.

“Come on,” he says, opening his door.

I stay where I am, and a few seconds later, he opens my door. I stare up at him. His hair isn’t tied back, and it’s full of saltwater, just like mine. His has the perfect beachy wave, while mine probably looks like I stuck my finger in a socket.

“You’re wet and sandy,” he says, putting out a hand to help me out. “Come rinse off and get warm. Maybe the traffic will die down by then.”

I hesitate, but the thought of driving home with sand grinding between my already chafing thighs is enough to make me take his hand. And maybe a little part of me doesn’t want to leave yet.

Or a biggish part.

Wet and disheveled, we make our way into the hotel, through the lobby, and to the elevator. His room is on the fifth floor, and I’m aware that my heart is beating more quickly than usual as he taps his key card on the door and opens it.

“Bathroom’s right here,” he says, nodding to the door directly to the right as we go inside.

“Thanks.” I’m eager not only to rinse off all this sand but to take a second to figure out what my heart’s doing.

A quick glance in the mirror confirms my worst fears: I look like I just came out of a Category 5 hurricane. I shut my eyes in consternation. Not like it matters what I look like. I’m not trying to impress my husband.

Right?

I turn the shower on, then try to lock the door as quietly as possible, cringing when it clicks. I step into the shower, and wet sand drops onto the tile with each garment I remove. I shake the clothes out and hang them over the shower door, then turn on the water, watching it fill with even more sand from all the times we wiped out.

The image of Luca’s ear-to-ear smile as we crashed into each other at the end of the final wave flashes through my mind, and my heart skips a few beats.

I clench my eyes shut and lather the shampoo in my hair. It’s hotel shampoo, and it’ll do a number on my curls, but the alternative isn’t great either.

It’s not until I’m out of the shower in my towel that I realize my predicament. My clothes are wet and sandy. My body is clean and not-sandy. I have nothing else with me because I wasn’t planning on venturing into the ocean. I really need to start looking before I leap.

I stand in my towel, considering my dilemma when footsteps approach.

“I’ve got dry clothes for you right here,” Luca says, his voice muffled through the closed door.

The man thinks of everything.

I unlock the door and open it a couple inches. His brown eyes meet mine through the gap, and my heart does the thing again.

“Thanks.” I’m forced to open the door more so I can fit my hand and the folded clothes back through.

He nods and disappears.

He’s given me a pair of black basketball shorts and a gray T-shirt. I don’t have a clean bra or underwear, though. I glance at those two items of clothing, draped over the shower door, little collections of water gathering on the floor below them.

Tossing the clean clothes on the counter, I grab the bra and underwear, rinse them in the sink, then wring them out. They’re still very wet, so I blot them with a towel, then use the hairdryer for a couple minutes.

They’re damp, but I’ll take that over the option of going au naturel in Luca’s clothes. We’re not that married.

His shorts are way too big for me, but they’ve got a drawstring, which I tighten mercilessly. On no account must these shorts fall down. I pull on his T-shirt and inhale the divine scent of his cologne. What’s happening to me?

It’s because of that kiss outside the stadium. I got way more than I bargained for. And yet, not enough.

I shove away the nerves and intrusive thoughts and push the door open.

“So much better,” I say with a sigh of satisfaction.

I stop short where the small hallway opens up to the larger room. Luca is seated on the edge of the king-sized bed with an iPad in hand. It’s what’s next to him that’s got my attention, though. Taking up the majority of space on the bed is a vibrantly purple, U-shaped pillow. “Is that…a pregnancy pillow?”

Luca glances up at me, then to the pillow. He doesn’t answer.

I walk over and run a hand along the minky cover. “This is totally a pregnancy pillow. Luca, honey, do you have something to tell me?”

I catch sight of a diagram with a bunch of circles and lines before he turns off the iPad screen and sets it on the bedside table. “Yeah. I do have something to tell you. That pillow is comfortable. And it’s a body pillow.”

“Pregnancy pillow.”

He stands up. “Try it out. I’m gonna hop in the shower.”

I do try it out. And he’s right. It wraps around me like I’m a fragile treasure whose sleep is to be protected at all costs. But I can’t help smiling as I picture gigantic Luca surrounded by this soft purple halo meant for pregnant women.

My phone buzzes, and a text shows up on the lock screen.

Jess

Not to disturb you during whatever important married things you’re doing, but apparently, there’s a shakeup coming to the company any day now

A shakeup. What does that mean? Very little about the company affects my day-to-day as an administrative assistant. I do all the boring stuff that every company has to do while the big boys make the exciting decisions and shmooze with clients.

I start typing a response, but Luca’s a much more efficient showerer than I am. He emerges, pulling a shirt over his head.

I get a flash of the abs that his wet shirt teased me mercilessly with at the beach. He would absolutely cause a scene at that Solana gym. And I’m not wild thinking of the women who live there ogling my husband.

“What do you think?” he asks.

My wide gaze jumps from his torso to his face. Is he asking me what I think of his abs? If I were a poet, I could write an ode to them.

But I’m not a poet, and thankfully, I quickly realize he’s asking me about the pillow.

“It’s very…purple,” I say from amidst its depths. And I’m in love with it .

He sits on the edge of the bed and looks at me, slightly amused. “That’s it?”

“Fine. It’s really comfortable, and I considered stealing it while you were showering.”

“You’d have to fight me for it.” There’s a hint of challenge in his eyes.

A vision of us wrestling on the bed flashes across my mind, and my heart is screaming for me to engage, to prove what I would do for this delectably soft piece of cloud. “We could share? Set up joint custody or something. You could have it on holidays. Preston could draft up an agreement for us.”

“Or I could forcibly remove you from my pillow. That belongs to me.”

Yes! Yes! Let’s do that!

I hesitate, half of my brain urging me to flee before I inadvertently—or advertently—wrestle Luca into finishing that kiss from earlier, the other half too curious to move a muscle.

“Sharing is caring, Luca,” I say, heart pounding.

“You’re right.” He starts climbing onto the bed.

“What’re you doing?” I ask warily.

“Sharing,” he says, drawing closer. “Scoot over.”

His large body looms over me as he waits for me to obey. Somewhere in the depths of my mind, I know that sharing this velvety purple pillow with Luca is not the course of wisdom. As a general rule, I’m not known for taking the course of wisdom, but tonight, I probably should.

You’ve become boring , Jess’s voice says in my mind.

“What I meant to say”—I wrap my arms under the sides of the pillow and cage it to my body by bending my elbows—“is finders keepers. This pillow and I are one now.”

He puts one hand on either side of the pillow, looming over me with a smile that makes my heart do things it’s never done before. Things it should never do.

“Really?” he asks.

“Yep,” I say as lightheartedly as I can. “Inseparable.”

“Hmm.” He scoops a hand under the pillow, and his fingers slide under me, splaying and pressing into my upper back. He lifts me upward, and the pillow comes with me.

I couldn’t care less about the pillow now. No longer can I pretend to be playful and unruffled. My heart’s pounding against my chest and his, my breath is uneven, and my gaze is locked on his.

Luca’s gaze becomes more intent as it fixes on mine, and the little smile he was wearing dies out like the last flames of a fire, leaving just the glowing embers in his dark eyes.

Kiss me, Luca .

Slowly, he lowers me back to the bed, and his arm slips out from behind me.

A shard of disappointment lodges in my chest, but his arms return to where they were on either side of me, caging me in while his gaze never strays from mine.

Until it slides down to my lips.

Letting go of the pillow, I slip my arms out from underneath, then reach my hands to Luca’s face. The scratch of his stubble tickles my palms while the soft skin of his cheekbone presses against my fingertips.

His eyes search mine, then he lowers himself, and I wait for his lips.

Their touch is soft, but it sets off a chain of reactions that make it a full-body and full-heart experience. Tingling lips. Fire in the veins. Pounding heart. I want Luca. Not just physically, though I absolutely want him in that way. I want everything Luca—his hopes, his fears, his smiles, his victories and defeats. And I want him to want everything me .

I break my mouth away and turn my head, and Luca pulls back.

I roll to the side, and he lifts his arm to let me over the pillow and out. Away.

“Sorry.” I slide my legs over the side of the bed and try to gather my self-control, which is lying all over the hotel room like shattered glass.

“No,” he says, coming to sit beside me. “ I’m sorry.”

I stare at the pattern of the hotel carpet and force my breath to come evenly. “I just can’t do…that.”

My words meet with silence, and after a few seconds, I look at him.

“It’s not what I want,” I explain. Have I ever told a worse lie? But I can’t want it because I don’t want the danger that comes with it. Luca thinks Ryan’s an idiot for breaking up with me, but what he doesn’t realize is that Ryan’s just the last person to do it. The truth is that I’ve never broken up with anyone. I’ve always been broken up with . Ryan just broke me harder than anyone else.

“Me neither,” he says. “I’m sorry. I got…carried away.”

“Me too.” And I wanted to be carried away a whole lot further. Which is what terrifies me. I know where that river leads, and I know how it feels to lose control and find yourself going over the waterfall at the end, with only sharp rocks waiting at the bottom.

I can’t do that again. I won’t. And it would be crazy to let myself when there’s an expiration date on Luca and me. It’s not a matter of if it ends but when.

“Maybe we should have some rules,” he says.

I look over at him, wondering how he feels about all of this and what drove him to kiss me. But it doesn’t matter. Wanting to kiss someone is worlds apart from wanting them. Wanting all of them.

When I don’t respond, he goes on. “Getting physical just gets…messy. And neither of us wants messy.”

I nod, even though, right now, there’s a stubborn part of me that wants messy more than anything. “For sure. So, no kissing? Except when strictly necessary.” A flashback from our kiss outside the stadium hits me, and heat creeps into my cheeks. “Sorry about earlier. With Louie.”

His mouth quirks up at the edge. “I’d classify that as necessary.”

I smile, relieved he thinks so. “Right? He needed that.”

“A hundred percent.”

“But that was an exception,” I say, mostly for my own benefit. My brain has already begun concocting scenarios where physical contact with Luca might be necessary.

What I need is time to clear my head.

I reach for my phone and check Google Maps. The route says three and a half hours now. There must be a major accident or something.

“You should just stay here tonight,” Luca says.

My eyes jump to his.

“I’ll sleep on the couch,” he offers, as if to clarify that he didn’t mean anything by his suggestion.

I look at said couch. It’s not meant for a body the width or length of his. “Would you take the pillow with you?”

His mouth quirks up at one edge. “Of course.”

I smile, then look at my phone again. Three and a half hours in traffic sounds like a nightmare, but if I stay in this room with Luca tonight…our rules will be in mortal peril. This monster inside me that wants Luca and wants him to want me? It will tear those rules to shreds.

I could sleep on the couch. I could sleep on the floor or in the bathtub, honestly. But I have standards.

Even more than sleep, though, I need a reset, and three and a half hours in the car is a good jumpstart.

“I’m just gonna head home.” I stand up and turn to look at him. “You win the pillow. For tonight.”

He rises, towering over me. “Really generous of you to let me have my own pillow.” He jerks his head toward the door. “Come on. I’ll walk you out.”

We bag up my wet clothes and head for the hotel parking lot, both of us lost in our own thoughts.

“We’re good, right?” I say as we reach my car.

He frowns like the question comes as a surprise. “Of course.”

“Okay, I just don’t want it to be weird.”

“Nothing is weird.” He chucks me under the chin.

I smile. I can’t help it. “Good. Because I don’t do weird.”

“Agree to disagree,” he teases.

A hug seems like the right thing to do to say goodbye, but with our new rules, I don’t really know what to do, so I wait for him to make the move.

He doesn’t.

“See you later, Tori,” he says, opening my car door.

“See ya,” I say.

I have no idea when I’ll see him, but based on how soon I want it to be, I’m thinking it’ll be best to hold off for as long as possible.