Chapter 25

25

TORI

Luca’s car pulls out of the driveway—I checked to make sure Joyce and Ron weren’t lying in wait to see if I really did take him—and I watch through the window until it disappears around the corner.

Panic simmers in me.

That visit was a disaster. An unmitigated disaster.

I sit on the sofa in the living room and stare at the rug. What happens now?

Nothing good . That’s what Luca said.

I pull out my phone and find Preston’s number, then press the call button. He’ll know what we can expect, but the chances he’ll answer are about as good as the chances Joyce believed my explanations for our separate bedroom and bathroom uses.

“Victoria,” Preston says.

I blink. He answered!

“Hey, Preston.” I try to sound normal, but my voice is shaking.

“Everything okay?”

“Um, I don’t know. That’s why I’m calling.”

“Hold on just a second,” he says. “I’m at a late lunch, so I just need a second to step away.”

I wait, my heart racing as the ambient noise of clinking silverware and conversation gradually dampens.

“Okay,” he says. “What’s up, Victoria?”

I take in a deep breath. “Luca and I just got a visit from two immigration officers.”

There’s a short silence. “Oh.”

“Yeah. They wanted to ask us some questions and basically go through the house.”

He swears.

That’s not encouraging.

“How did that go?” he asks.

“Um…not great.” I can’t really expound more than that because Preston doesn’t know the truth. “Is that a normal thing for them to do?”

“It’s not standard. It means they flagged your file. They do unannounced visits when they have reason to suspect a marriage has been entered into fraudulently. Jeez. I’m sorry, Victoria.”

Not as sorry as I am. “What happens if they feel the visit went poorly?”

There’s a pause, like he’s trying to figure out what exactly is behind my question. What he should understand from it. “If the visit didn’t resolve whatever concerns they had, it’ll likely result in a Stokes interview.”

It rings a faint bell from my research, but I can’t remember why. “What’s that?”

“It’s kind of like the interview you already had, but more intense. In this one, husband and wife get questioned together, then separately. Your answers are compared against each other.”

I swallow, hoping it’ll get rid of my sudden desire to throw up. “And if you fail that interview?”

Another pause. “If you fail that, things get a lot more serious.”

My mouth is Sahara-dry. “Serious how?”

“Serious like…Luca’s green card application is denied and he has to appear before an immigration judge who would rule on deportation. Both of you could face fines and criminal charges and, in egregious cases, jail time. Luca could be permanently barred from entering the U.S.”

My breath comes more quickly as visions of this future flash before my eyes. Luca’s NFL dream up in smoke. Him being forced back to Canada. Us separated.

“Okay,” I say as brightly as I can with my eyes brimming with tears. “Thank you, Preston. We’ll keep you posted.”

I hang up before he even has a chance to say goodbye.

I can’t hold it together any longer, and a sob escapes me.

My first impulse is to call Luca and tell him what Preston said. But he needs his focus for the game. I don’t want to throw this on his shoulders until that’s done. If his NFL games are numbered, at least let this one be untainted.

I need to talk to someone, but no one knows about Luca and me. Except Zach, and he’s rock bottom on my list of people to call for advice. Why didn’t he warn us about any of this?

I scroll through my text threads and tap on Siena’s name. I stare at our conversation about reflux and Tums, my nerves firing like the finale of a firework show. Can I tell her the truth? What will she say?

I tap the call button before I can change my mind. The line doesn’t even ring once before it’s picked up.

“I’m so glad you didn’t FaceTime,” she says, “because I look like a whale.”

I give a teary laugh.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” she says, her tone changing completely. “What’s wrong?”

I brush away my tears quickly. “Nothing.”

“Victoria Sheppard Callahan the First,” she says sternly. “Do not lie to me, young lady. What’s going on?”

I work to get control of myself, then launch inelegantly into the long, winding explanation. How Luca and I met. His visa situation. The plan we hatched. All the ways the plan has had to change. The ways it’s gone wrong. And, finally, my fear that not only will Luca’s dream be ruined, but he’ll be deported.

Communicating this is anything but efficient, since it’s peppered with Siena’s exclamations, but at the end, there’s silence.

Siena whistles softly. “Wow. You’ve really outdone yourself this time, Tor.”

“Ugh. Not helpful.”

“I know. I just had to say it. But it’s out of my system, and now I’ve got my helpful hat on. So, let’s break this situation down. You got married to help Luca get a visa. And now you’re afraid he’ll have to go back to Canada.”

“Yeah,” I say softly.

“Lemme ask you something else: what would you be losing if he did?”

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

“I mean,” she says, “that you got married for practical reasons, right? So, even though it’d be awful for Luca’s future in the NFL, what are you, Tori, actually losing?”

“Um, a husband,” I say incredulously.

“A fake husband,” she corrects.

I scoff. “He’s my actual husband, Siena. We got married for real.”

“On paper, yes.”

“No, not just on paper,” I say, starting to get frustrated. “That’s how it started, yeah, but we’re kind of past that now.”

“Meaning…”

And now I get it. She’s being intentionally dense about this. She wants me to say it. To say the thing I haven’t said to anyone—not even to myself. “Meaning,” I say slowly, “that I actually love him.”

“And does he love you back?”

I’m quiet for a second. “I think so? Maybe. I don’t know. I’m pretty sure he has feelings for me. I just don’t know how deep they run. I was about to find out when those dumb immigration people showed up and ruined everything.” I wish so badly that I could go back to that moment and ignore the doorbell.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course he loves you. I was just testing you. I’ve seen the man look at you.” She sips from her drink, which I can imagine propped on her stomach. “Okay. Let’s adopt the worst-case scenario, just for funsies. Say he does get deported. You could go live with him in Canada, right?”

“I don’t know. Could I?”

“Let’s check. Ugh. My laptop is like four feet away. Can you get yours?”

I put my phone on speaker, then start searching the internet to see whether it’d be possible for me to go live in Canada after we’ve both been charged with immigration fraud. I’ve never been to Canada. Maybe I’d love it. But would he ?

“So?” Siena prompts as I read over information on a Reddit thread.

My heart sinks. “No. My immigration file would have a note about the fraud. Canada wouldn’t let me in.”

Siena swears. “You could abscond to Belize or something. I hear it’s pretty easy to move there.”

“I don’t want to live in Belize, Siena. I want to vacation there.”

She sighs. “Fair enough. Then your best option is to find a way to pass this interview and convince them not to deport Luca.”

“Simple as that, huh?” I say with a hint of sass.

“Maybe. I mean, you guys are in love. It may have started as fraud, but it’s legit now. Either way, don’t give up yet. And don’t waste the time you and Luca have by worrying. And for the love of all that is good and holy, tell him how you feel . While you can.”

My heart races at the thought. But I know she’s right. I have to. And I want to. But I’m terrified. “What if it ends, Siena?” I swallow. “What if I end up hurt again, like with Ryan?”

“Don’t you mention He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to me. Luca is twice the man that little punk could even dream of being. And he’s not going to hurt you.”

“But how do you know that? You said it yourself—I make bad decisions. What if this is another one of those?”

“Do you make decisions I personally wouldn’t make? Yes. But so what? You always come out on top, Tor. Take Ryan. Him breaking up with you hurt you like crazy, but it was the best-case scenario for you . You’re better for it. Unless you let it get in the way of what you have with Luca. That would be the true tragedy. So don’t you dare sabotage your marriage over an idiot like Ryan. Luca’s the real deal, and you fight for the real deal.”

I breathe in, letting her words soak in. I want to believe them, and everything I know about Luca supports what she’s saying. He’s looked out for me from the beginning. Literally from the moment we met. He’s not Ryan.

“It’ll all work out,” Siena says. “I really believe that. We’ll find a way, okay?”

I force myself to breathe. “Okay.”

She yawns. “I’m overdue for my third nap now, so…”

“Third of…”

“Three. Maybe four. But I love you. And so does Luca. And true love conquers all. Keep me posted, okay?

“I will.”

I take a few slow, deep breaths once we’ve hung up.

We can do this . It’ll all work out .

I smile slightly at the thought of what Joyce would say if she could hear my manifesting thoughts. Well, Joyce, I’m about to manifest the crap out of my future with Luca.

The next morning, I’m up by eight. I mean business. I’m full of energy and determination. Yes, there’s still fear bubbling behind it, but I refuse to give in to it.

Instead, I do what I know I have to do next: I call my parents and tell them the truth. With less desperation and tears this time, but still a decent amount of nerves. No one likes admitting they’ve been lying to their kind and loving parents.

It’s those same kind and loving qualities they have in such abundance that lead them to accept my story like this isn’t the first child they’ve had marry a stranger for fraudulent purposes.

I’m in tears by the end of the call. Happy tears. Grateful tears. I’m so fortunate to have a family who supports me in all of my harebrained ideas. A family who loves Luca and is ready to go to bat for him too, despite everything. The Sheppards are ready to take on U.S. Immigration.

It’s this type of support that so many of the youth we met at Summit Rise are missing. A lot of them come from broken homes, and the others generally have parents who are running themselves into the ground just trying to put food on the table and a roof over their heads.

I didn’t do anything to deserve the situation I have, and it makes me want to help Dallin and those other kids. I’ve done enough sitting around at home trying to figure out what I want to do with my life; I may as well be doing some good while I look for a job.

I shoot an email to Summit Rise, letting them know I’d love to work more with the kids if they have any opportunities

Before I hop in the shower to get ready for the game, I shoot off one more text. A daring one.

Tori

Good luck today (heart emoji)

Okay, maybe not that daring. People use heart emojis in a lot of circumstances. But there’s subtext to this one. A lot of it. It’s close enough to the game that I don’t even know if Luca will see it. He usually puts his phone away about two hours beforehand.

I take a shower, even washing my hair. I want to look good today. I’ve done my curl routine and am heading for my closet when I spot my phone on the bed.

Too curious to resist, I tap the screen. There’s a text preview waiting there.

Luca

*Heart emoji*

Did you know it’s possible to stare at a single emoji for over two minutes?

Going to the game without my family is more intimidating than I had anticipated. My seat is in the section reserved for player families, which already has a number of people in their seats, munching on concessions and chatting in their Admirals gear.

To my surprise, two of the women come over and introduce themselves. They’re the wife of the kicker and the girlfriend of the left guard, and they invite me to come sit with them and the other WAGs. Wives And Girlfriends.

It’s been a while since I’ve entered the terrifying waters of trying to fit in with an existing clique, and nerves reminiscent of junior high rise to the surface as I’m introduced to the other women.

They’re all welcoming and kind, even excited to have me there. It’s like Mean Girls flipped on its head, and after half an hour, it’s abundantly clear to me that the Admirals WAGs are a tight-knit group. Babies are handed around freely and kids’ needs attended to by people other than their moms. It’s like a little support community. They get what it’s like to have a husband in the NFL, and they’re there for each other.

There’s a sense of disappointment in my chest as I realize this group probably isn’t in my future. Barring some miracle. Otherwise, the next time these women see me may be my mug shot in the paper.

My family text thread blows up in the minutes before the game. My parents must have passed on the information I gave them because my brothers and Jack are all expressing their support for us and wishing Luca a good game.

Like I said…best family.

Attention turns to the field, and after a quick glance at the heart emoji text Luca sent—just to make sure I didn’t imagine it—I put my phone away. The noise in our section is non-stop as the team runs out, with everyone cheering loudly whenever one of the husbands appears.

My heart skips when I see number 19 and Luca’s familiar physique emerge.

I cheer and dog-whistle as he jogs out to a stadium of electric excitement. Is it possible Siena’s right and this man thousands are cheering for really does love me, of all people?

Once Luca gets to where all the Admirals are gathering along the sideline, he turns. I watch him scan the audience until his gaze settles on me.

My pulse races.

His helmet obscures his face, but I can see his smile despite that, and it sends my heart into a frenzy as he lifts his arm and points at me. The ladies around me all cheer, and I go cherry red as I point right back at him.

The Admirals win the coin toss and choose to kick off rather than receive, which means my heart gets a break before I have to watch Luca go helmet to helmet with the other team. The Ironhawks are projected to be really good this year—better than the Admirals, and they drive all the way to the twelve-yard line before we stop them. They kick a field goal, putting them in the lead on the first drive.

The Admirals bring the heat, though, with an answering drive to the seventeen-yard line and a follow-up field goal of their own.

The game goes like that, both defenses struggling while the offenses make play after play. At half-time, the score is 23-20 for the Admirals.

By the fourth quarter, Luca has five receptions for forty-three yards, at which point the score is 31-27 for the Admirals with 1:59 left to play.

The Ironhawks get the ball and before anyone can catch their breath, they’ve driven the ball down the field, and it’s fourth and goal.

Their quarterback dances, looking for a receiver while his offensive line blocks for him. He throws the ball, and I hold my breath while it zips through far downfield and is caught and run into the end zone.

My heart drops as I look at the scoreboard. It changes to 34-31 for the Ironhawks. There’s a measly 1:22 left in the game.

Historically, I’m not a nail-biter, but as of now, that has changed. The kickoff sails into the end zone, and our offense lines up on the thirty-yard line for a touchback.

We can’t catch a break, Luca included, as he gets taken down mid-catch without ever getting a good hold on the ball.

He shakes his head on the way to line up again, and I can’t stand or sit still. The last thing he needs is a loss he takes personal credit for on top of the immigration fiasco we’re in.

On third down and twelve, we’re all on our toes as DJ looks in vain for a free receiver. After what feels like a million seconds of pure torture, he tucks the ball and runs, dodging defenders and getting well past the first down line, finally sliding to the ground before he can be tackled.

The stadium explodes with cheers, but we’ve still got thirty-five yards to the end zone, a running clock, and fourteen seconds until a Ironhawks victory. You could choke on the tension in the stadium as our offense lines up and DJ spikes the ball, stopping the clock and costing us a down.

It’s second down, and my eyes are on Luca, who’s in position on the line of scrimmage as he waits for the ball snap. He charges forward, blowing past a defender and running until he gets to the fifteen-yard line. He turns back toward DJ.

The ball arcs through the air, and Luca puts out his hands for the catch, but there are three defenders nearby. The ball flies into his hands, and he tucks it into his arm, dodging one defender, who leaps after him and grabs his foot. Luca shakes him off, sidesteps the next cornerback, then jumps over a safety and into the end zone.

I jump up and down like a maniac, clapping and screaming. Tossing the ball to the nearest ref, Luca turns his body toward me and starts dancing. My goofy, ridiculous dance. He only gets in two seconds of it before his teammates clobber him in celebration, but those two seconds will be ingrained in my memory for time and all eternity.

The kicker puts the ball through the uprights, and it’s a madhouse as the crowd goes wild at the final score: 37-34 for the Admirals.

RIP my nails and my eardrums.

The other WAGs hug me, congratulating me like I’m the one who made the touchdown, and we make our way to the waiting area together, all high on the victory.

I participate in the conversation, but only half-heartedly because the other half of my heart is pounding at the prospect of seeing Luca. So much has happened in the past forty-eight hours between us, I don’t know what to expect anymore.

We walk through the hallway that leads to the locker room, which is teeming with family, friends, and media waiting for the players to emerge. It’s so crowded, it’s impossible to push our way through, and we give up temporarily.

Last week it took forever for them to come out, so there’s no rush.

“Tori!”

I turn at the sound of my name, wondering who in the world could recognize me here.

My muscles seize at the sight of Ryan. His arm is around Kimberly’s waist, and next to them is Tyler.

Ryan’s hair is shorter than the last time I saw him, which was admittedly a long time ago. He’s wearing a slick suit, which is just ridiculous. Who wears a suit to an NFL game?

The sight of him with Kimberly elicits a visceral reaction from my body, like the sudden need to hurl. On Ryan, preferably.

“We hoped we’d see you here!” He guides Kimberly toward me. “I work with Bennett’s dad.”

I should’ve guessed he’d have a connection to the biggest jerk on the team.

Ryan lets go of Kimberly to give me a hug.

I’m like a statue as his arms wrap around me.

He steps back, giving me a funny look, as though my reaction is strange. Has he forgotten the havoc he wreaked on me?

“I can’t believe you’re a married woman now. I was looking up Callahan’s stats, and I saw an article about how you guys met. Did he really save you from getting run over by a truck? I’m guessing that’s what took you to Tyler’s hospital.”

“No, they were already engaged when I saw them,” Tyler says.

My nerves go into high-gear. The E.R. interaction with Tyler is the weak spot in Luca’s and my story.

Impulse urges me to try to explain the timeline, but that’ll just get messy.

“Things moved quickly with us,” I say with a tight smile.

“ I’ll say,” Ryan says with a laugh that nettles me. It’s like he’s insinuating that I tricked Luca into marrying me.

I keep my smile intact. “Luca’s not the type to drag things out. He knows what he wants.” I put a subtle emphasis on the word he .

Kimberly shifts, and her cheeks go pink. Tyler excuses himself, and I watch out of the corner of my eye as he approaches Bennett.

“Hey, Kimberly,” I say with a genuine smile. “You look beautiful.” I didn’t mean to hurt her feelings. I have nothing against her, and it’s not her fault it’s taken Ryan this long to actually tie the knot. I genuinely hope he treats her better than he treated me.

“Hey,” she says back. “Good to see you.”

It’s a lie, but it’s a polite one. Seeing your ex’s new girlfriend is only slightly worse than seeing your boyfriend’s ex. This isn’t fun for either of us.

“We brought this for you.” Ryan pulls an elegant white invitation out of his suit coat and hands it to me. “Hope you and Luca can come. I think we added Admirals/Giants tickets to our registry.” He winks.

I have no plan to attend the wedding, and Admirals/Giants tickets are about as likely as peace in the Middle East, but I take the invitation politely.

“Can I borrow my wife for a second?”

My heart jumps at the sound of Luca’s voice right next to me, and I turn to him in surprise. How’d he get out here so fast?

A cameraman and a guy with a microphone hurry up to Luca. “Can we get a moment of your time, Mr. Callahan?”

“Maybe in a minute,” he says without even looking at them. His eyes are on me.

He takes me by the hand and pulls me away from Ryan and Kimberly, away from the curious gazes. We weave through the crowd until we reach a quieter corner, and Luca turns, guiding me so my back is against the wall.

I can feel the eyes of the group we just left on us, as well as a number of other people’s gazes.

I look up at Luca. His eyes are dark and intense, and I don’t know if he’s angry or something else entirely.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

His eyes search mine another second, then he shakes his head. His hand comes up to cup my chin, and he comes in for a kiss.

It’s not tentative or slow. It’s passionate and unapologetic as his lips cover mine, both hands securing my mouth to his. The world around us falls away, and my hands find his chest. I feel the rapid beat of his heart under my palms, and it sends a rush of heat through me. The only things that exist are the warmth and firmness of his body through his shirt, the rhythm of our lips, and the unchecked want in his kiss, like he’s been hiding it inside him for too long and can’t hold back a second longer.

Flashes of light pierce even the darkness of my closed lids, accompanied by clicks and murmurs. I don’t care. All that matters is Luca and the surge of feelings pouring through me, too powerful to ignore.

Gradually, he slows the kiss and pulls back just enough to meet my gaze. His eyes are filled with something I’ve never seen before, a fire that sends a shiver down my spine, leaving me breathless.

“Mrs. Callahan,” says a voice I don’t recognize. “Would you care to comment on your husband’s incredible game-winning touchdown?”

I blink and look over the man standing a few feet away, his microphone extended toward me. Around him, a dozen people are staring at Luca and me, including Ryan, Kimberly, and Tyler.

“You wanna get out of here?” Luca asks.

I nod, and he threads his fingers through mine, then guides us out of the stadium.

His phone is ringing off the hook as we walk to the parking lot. Media requests, I’m sure, and Zach, probably.

“You can answer,” I say. I don’t want to deprive him of this moment. He earned it.

He shakes his head.

That’s when I remember we drove separately.

“My car’s way over there,” I say, pointing to a distant spot in the parking lot. “P32.”

“I’m driving,” he says. “We’ll get your car later.”

“Okay.” My voice is small and squeaky, awed by his take-charge attitude and the fact that he’d rather go to the trouble of coming back for my car than drive home separately right now.

He opens the car door for me, and I feel like Dorothy. We’re not in Kansas anymore. But where exactly are we?

His phone goes off again as he gets into the driver’s seat. It’s Zach, but Luca turns it to vibrate and sets it in the console.

“He’s just gonna keep calling,” I say.

“I’ll call him later,” Luca says, and he turns off his phone completely. “You hungry?”

“Always,” I say. “You?”

“Starving.”

We grab tacos from a food truck on the way home, and the smell emanating from the Styrofoam takeout container permeates the car for the last few minutes of the drive.

We pull into the garage, which seems empty without my car, and Luca grabs the takeout container.

I reach for the handle.

“I’ll get your door,” he says.

I’ve never been the type of woman to need or even want doors opened for me, but I wait with anticipation as he comes around, opens the door, and puts out a hand. His face is as impassive as ever. Except for those eyes. My heart starts to race the second I look into them.

Still holding my hand, he leads the way inside. My nerves are in a frenzy at the thought of what happens now. The silence and tension are killing me.

“Thank you,” I say as he sets down the food on the counter.

“For what?”

I give a soft laugh. “For saving me back there. With Ryan. I didn’t know how to escape.”

His eyes explore my face for a second, and the silence drags on.

“Anyway,” I say, having a hard time meeting his gaze due to a sudden onset of blushing modesty, “I’m pretty sure that kiss came as a surprise to him. It was nice of you.”

Nice is a strange way to describe the almost ruthlessness of his kiss.

“Tori.” He doesn’t go on until I look at him. “I couldn’t care less about your ex. I didn’t kiss you for his benefit. Or anyone else’s, for that matter. I kissed you the way I’ve been wanting to kiss you for months now. I kissed you because I couldn’t wait a second longer.”

My lungs lock as his eyes pierce mine. “You…couldn’t?”

He shakes his head, his gaze fixed on me.

Tell him how you feel.

Siena’s words run like a banner across my mind. And I know it. This is the time.

“I talked to Siena today,” I say.

Luca’s brows bunch for a second like this random fact wasn’t quite what he had expected. Or hoped for. “Oh. What’d she say?”

I try to breathe evenly. “She said…that I should tell you how I really feel.”

Those dark brows hitch up slightly, and he stares at me steadily. “That would probably be a good idea.”

I break my gaze from his and take his hand, playing with his fingers for a few seconds while I gather myself. But the longer I wait, the more violently my heart pounds. I lift my eyes to his, and a sudden calmness washes over me. His good soul shines through those dark, kind eyes. “I’m in love with you, Luca.”

Our gazes hold for a few seconds as the silence ticks by. Long, painful silence.

“And I don’t expect you to feel the same way,” I hurry to say, “or to say it or anything, and it’s completely okay if you don’t feel that way about me, but…I just wanted you to know.”

His Adam’s apple bobs, and I note the little sheen in his eyes before he blinks. But it’s still quiet.

I give a little laugh. It’s almost manic. “Okay, you don’t have to say you love me, but saying something would be helpful.”

He nods, then takes in a breath and lets it out slowly. “Football has been everything to me for almost as long as I can remember. It’s been the one constant in my life, the place I feel at home.”

I nod quickly to show I understand, but the heat creeps into my cheeks. This wasn’t quite the response I had been hoping for.

“The thought of losing football…” He shakes his head and doesn’t finish. He can’t finish.

“I know.” I look down, losing my nerve, my ability to pretend this is what I wanted to hear. I run my thumb along the edge of the counter, trying to will my eyes not to burn.

“But that’s not what scares me most.”

My thumb slows.

“I’m absolutely and completely, out-of-my-mind terrified of losing you, Tori.”

My gaze snaps to his.

“I can’t,” he says. “I won’t.”

My eyelids flutter, and the room spins slightly, so I grip the counter.

“Tori, I…” He clenches his jaw shut and takes a second before speaking again. “I love you.”

My breath hitches.

“And I’m gonna kiss you again right now,” he says.

My heart pummels my ribs, and I nod.

His gaze grows more fixed, and I wait.

The second his fingers touch my waist, chills ripple across my skin, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

He takes a step closer, his eyes growing dark as they travel over my face and pause on my lips, like they’ve found their target. They sweep to my eyes once more, and the pressure of his fingertips on my waist grows more insistent before he dips his head and his lips touch mine.

It’s slow, deep, and thorough, like he wants to make certain no part is left wanting. But it doesn’t work. No matter how much he kisses me, I’m in a constant state of waiting and wanting more. And it’s not just me.

He scoops me into his arms and takes me to his room, laying me on the bed as he shoves the pillow aside, his lips never leaving mine.

And the tacos go cold on the kitchen counter.