Chapter 21

21

LUCA

Something tickles my face, and I shift away from it, but it follows. There’s a familiar sound of waves breaking and seagulls calling, but it’s louder than I’m used to.

I put a hand to my face to brush aside whatever’s tickling my nose and lips, then frown. It’s hair.

My eyes flutter open, wincing at the bright ambient light. Slowly, my focus clears enough for me to note blonde, wavy hair everywhere. I know that hair.

I pull back to see better, but my arm is stuck.

Stuck under Tori, whose leg is resting on my hip, her body nestled against mine.

The memory of last night starts filtering in—eating dinner, answering questions, staring up at the night sky. That’s the last thing I remember.

Have I really been asleep since then?

That’s impossible. I haven’t slept through the night without my pillow for as long as I can remember. And definitely not on a patio sofa.

And yet, here I am.

Here we are.

With the lightest touch I can manage, I move the hair out of Tori’s face, revealing her profile. I’ve seen her sleeping before, but never from this close. There really isn’t any closer than this.

Half of me wants to embrace the situation, incomprehensible as I find it, and go back to sleep. The other part of me is acutely aware of how my breath must smell.

Gently, I work to slip my arm out from under her.

She lets out a deep, sleepy breath and nestles closer.

Have mercy .

Last night, I admitted to Tori that I consider her my best friend. At first, I was sure she thought me pathetic. Then she told me I was her best friend too. Maybe she was just saying it to make me feel better. I don’t know.

But it didn’t feel like it.

She even said we can be friends after we get divorced.

After we get divorced . It’s a given, just as it always has been, and that knowledge—that this will end—might be the only thing keeping me sane. Or maybe it’s the thing making me feel like I’ll go crazy.

My phone buzzes on the coffee table, and I try to be careful as I reach for it so that I don’t smoosh Tori.

She doesn’t move a muscle. She wasn’t lying when she said she can sleep anywhere and through anything.

After much pathetic grasping with my outstretched fingers, they finally find purchase on the phone. By then, Zach’s call has gone to voicemail. I’d better call him back, though. We’ve got the immigration interview today.

The thought sends a flurry of nerves through me. If we mess this up…

I can’t afford to think like that. This isn’t all that different from going into a game. Positive thinking is key.

I look at Tori for a few seconds, and my heart twists in that now-familiar way that hints at how important she’s become to me. She went from stranger to the centerpiece of my life.

I slip my phone into the pocket of my sweats, then scoop my free arm under her and slowly pull her onto my lap. Swinging my legs over the side of the sofa, I stand and carry her to her bed.

She doesn’t even stir, which is mind-blowing to me. And if history is any indicator, she’ll be sleeping for a while yet.

My call with Zach is short. He wants to wish us luck with the interview, but the primary purpose of his call seems to be making sure Tori and I plan to go to the sports camp day the Admirals have planned with a local community center called Summit Reach.

“Not only will it be good for your image,” he says, “I think it might help with the Bennett situation. If he meets Tori, he’s bound to like her, and getting to see the two of you together could go a long way to removing any doubts in his mind about the nature of your marriage.”

I don’t bother reminding him that the nature of my marriage to Tori is exactly what Bennett seems to suspect.

“You guys have got great chemistry,” Zach adds.

I suppress the impulse to ask him what he means. I happen to know what he means. It’s the constant explosions of joy and the bubbling need I have for Tori. I just wish I knew if Tori’s ever felt any of it. Sometimes, I think she does. Other times, I tell myself she has great chemistry with everybody. She’s charming and personable. She’d probably have chemistry with a brick wall.

That’s why there’s no one on this earth I feel less equipped to understand than her ex Ryan.

“You ready for this?” Tori turns toward me from the passenger seat. She’s wearing the same thing she wore to our wedding, and I am too. The difference is that today, our marriage isn’t taking place; it’s on the chopping block, as are my NFL career, my presence in the States, and both Tori’s and my liberty.

No biggie.

I take in a big breath, then nod decisively. “I’m ready.”

“Let’s do a practice real quick,” she says, lacing her fingers together and stretching her palms out in front of her. “Get your lying muscles warmed up.”

“I don’t know that I have any of those.”

She scoffs. “You have muscles that would shock anatomy experts. So”—she shifts so her knees are stacked and resting on her seat—“here’s the question: did you think I was crazy when you first met me?” She smiles, her eyes twinkling like she’s just asked me a question I’m going to find impossible to answer truthfully.

I think back to our meeting and the hours at the hospital.

“No.”

Her brows go up. “Wow. That was actually really good. See? You do have lying muscles.” She turns away and opens her door, blissfully unaware that there was no lying required.

The field office for immigration is in downtown San Diego inside a building covered in dark glass windows. Tori stops a dozen feet shy of the doors.

“What?” I ask. “What is it?”

She looks at me, then grabs my hand. “We’re entering the domain of strictly necessary PDA. So…anything goes.”

Anything. That’s a very comprehensive word, and yet, I doubt making out with Tori in front of our immigration officer will be necessary.

Unfortunately.

We walk inside, hand-in-hand, and reach the security checkpoint, where we have to let go. We breeze through because, while we might be committing immigration fraud, we aren’t real criminals.

At least, Tori’s not.

Our time in the waiting room feels like an eternity and yet somehow too short as I mentally review all the things Tori and I have discussed to prepare for this. She grabs my hand again after a few minutes, and even if it’s for show, it helps me relax a bit more.

The door across the hallway opens, and a middle-aged man with a receding hairline and thin glasses appears. He looks down at a paper in his hand, then up at us. “Victoria and Luca Callahan?”

Tori squeezes my hand as we stand and follow him into a small, non-descript room with a table.

“I’m Grant Dawson,” the man says, putting out his hand to shake ours. “I’ll be conducting today’s interview. Please have a seat.”

Tori and I agreed ahead of time that we would take turns answering questions. The first ones are just about our names and birthdates. He asks me for the names of Tori’s parents, and my stomach clenches, even though I know the answer. It’s what’s coming next that worries me.

“What are the names of Luca’s parents?” he asks Tori.

She glances at me. “I actually don’t know that.”

Officer Dawson looks up at us over the rim of his glasses.

“I don’t talk about my parents,” I clarify. “I never knew my dad, and I haven’t been in contact with my mom for a long time.”

He nods. “I see.”

The next set of questions is about how we met, which Tori answers truthfully, and then about our life together at home—our daily routines, whether we have pets, who cooks and cleans—which we also answer truthfully.

He peppers us with a few questions about the last movie we watched and where we went out to eat most recently, then how often we see our families—well, her family.

“Luca,” he says, “you have a felony charge on your record. Isn’t that right?”

My muscles tense, but Tori squeezes my hand.

“Yes, sir,” I say.

He flips a page over and scans the paper. “I understand you pleaded down to a misdemeanor.”

“Yes, sir.”

His intent eyes rest on me for a few silent seconds, then return to his paper. “Can you tell me why we should even consider granting you a green card given your history?”

Tori’s thumb rubs my hand, and I take in a breath before answering. “What I did was wrong, sir. When I realized my grandma was being threatened and taken advantage of, I was angry, and I let my emotions take control. There were other options I should have pursued for justice, and while I still maintain that the man prosecuting me deserved to have consequences to his actions as well, I regret the injuries I caused him. I don’t know if you have any information from after my conviction, but I’ve tried my hardest to do everything I was supposed to and to prove I’ve learned and grown.”

Tori’s hand shifts, and she threads her fingers through mine.

“I have the notes from your probation officer here,” the officer says. “He says you were… exemplary . And Victoria”—he looks at her—“how did your knowledge of Luca’s criminal record affect your decision to marry him?”

It was the literal reason for it .

“Honestly? It made me love him more.”

The man’s brows hitch, and I look at her in surprise.

“Luca is modest, sir,” she says. “He experienced significant injustice through our country’s justice system, but he hasn’t let it make him bitter. He hasn’t let it turn him off of becoming a citizen. He’s accepted the responsibility he bears and has done everything possible to demonstrate the type of person he is, because he is so much more than those few moments. Apart from all of that, though…a man who loves his grandma fiercely enough to protect her the way he did?” She looks at me, a soft smile on her face. “How could I not love and want someone like that?”

I swallow, my heart racing. I know this interview is about projecting the right image, but those words still hit a bullseye. I’ve struggled with feeling wanted my whole life. When the person who’s supposed to love you most in life sends you away without a backward glance? It kind of does a number on your self-worth.

If my mom didn’t want me, how could Tori feel for me even a fraction of what I feel for her? And yet, her eyes are full of sincerity as she holds my gaze.

“You had a very fast courtship,” the man says. “Exceptionally fast. Can you tell me about that, Luca?”

We knew this was coming, but despite that, my heart pumps with the same force it does when we’re fourth and goal in the final seconds of a game. Tori and I agreed multiple times that we would keep as close to the truth as possible. The truth, in this case, is that we didn’t spend every moment together after she left the hospital. We saw each other a few times, and I called her to check in on her a couple times. That was it. I don’t know how to believably claim otherwise.

But there are other truths I can use.

“Have you ever been in love, sir?” I ask.

His pen stops scratching, and he looks at me over his glasses again. “Um…yes. I have.”

“Have you ever known you wanted someone in your life almost as soon as you met them?”

His gaze searches mine, but he doesn’t answer.

Tori and I agreed to make eye contact regularly as a demonstration of our connection, but I can’t. Not on this answer. Not when I’m telling the full and honest truth.

But if there’s any chance what she said about loving and wanting me is true, I can’t miss this chance to say a couple things of my own.

“Tori came into my life like a bolt of lightning,” I say. “She struck fast and hard. She bowled me over with her charm and her energy, with her willingness to put her own interests aside for the people she cares about. That’s not the sort of person you let get away, sir. It’s not the type of person you hesitate to marry.”

Tori’s hand fidgets in mine.

“Mrs. Callahan,” Officer Dawson continues as if I didn’t just bare my soul, “did you discuss Luca’s immigration status before getting married? And if so, was there urgency because of it?”

Another home question. I don’t envy her having to answer.

I finally look at her, unable to resist, then squeeze her hand to reassure her.

“We discussed it,” she says. “Quite a bit, actually. We kind of had to. His student visa was expiring soon, so it was directly relevant to our future. We certainly felt urgency to get married, and we thought, if we’re going to do it anyway, we may as well do it soon. I had no problem with locking things down right away. Can you blame me?” She looks over at me with a teasing smile.

It’s so dang charming, I can’t help myself. I lean in, cup her jaw with a hand, and press my lips to hers. I linger there once our lips part, and her eyes flutter open, looking at me with a question.

Can she see the answer in my eyes? Do I want her to?

Officer Dawson shuffles his papers. “Okay. We’ll be reviewing your file, Mr. and Mrs. Callahan, and then we’ll be in touch.”

Body buzzing from the kiss, I nod, and Tori and I both stand.

We make our way out of the room, then out of the building, still holding hands but saying nothing.

It’s not until we’re out of the building and twenty feet away from the doors that she releases a huge breath.

“You okay?” I ask.

She pulls her hand from mine, then shakes out her arms and her whole body. “Yeah. That was…something else.”

“I wish I knew how it went.”

“Me too. That man has the emotional range of a parking meter. If you’re an emotional mullet, he’s emotional baldness.” She starts walking toward the car. “But hey, you did great. I’m going to have to keep my eye on you now, though, you know? You’re basically a pro at lying.”

I force a chuckle. The problem is, I didn’t lie. Not even once.