Chapter 27

27

TORI

I don’t have high hopes of seeing Dallin at the youth center, which is why my mood gets a lift at the sight of him sitting at a desk in the corner.

He looks up from his homework, and his gaze settles on me for a second before returning to his paper with no reaction.

Luca and I talk with the youth center director, who has us fill out paperwork before we can get started tutoring. There are a few other volunteers, and they hop between desks whenever kids raise their hands.

I don’t wait for Dallin to raise his but go straight over to him.

His homework is covered in doodles, but none of the math equations have actually been worked on.

“I take it you’re of the camp that art is math?” I sit on the edge of the empty desk next to him.

He doesn’t even look up. “I’m of the camp that math is useless.”

“Ah. That’s a popular camp. How does your GPA feel about your views on math?”

He shrugs.

“Okay,” I say, “so you don’t like math, and you don’t care about your GPA. What do you care about?”

“You minding your own business.”

“Ouch.” I open my bag of Twix and take one out, starting to unwrap it. “That hurt kind of.” I take a big bite. “May I gently recommend choosing something else to care about? It’s just that I happen to be avoiding my own business right now because my business is a hot mess. So I’d rather mind yours.”

His eyes flick to the candy in my hand before moving away again. “Do you plan to just sit there bugging me?”

I nod and take another bite. “ Or we can work on those math problems, and you can get a piece of candy for every one you answer correctly.”

He considers me for a second, and I show him the bag in my purse as proof I’m willing to pay up.

“One piece for each problem?” he clarifies like I’m about to trap him in some complicated loophole.

“Each correct problem.”

He stares at me another second. “Fine.”

I smile and leave Dallin to the first math problem.

Luca’s leaning over another kid’s desk, helping him. The kid looks up at him, in awe.

I sympathize deeply.

I head over to help a girl with her geography homework for a few minutes before going back to check on Dallin.

He’s sitting back on the hind chair legs, spinning his pencil between his fingers.

“Gave up already?” I ask, prepared to eat another Twix to tempt him at another shot.

He doesn’t say anything, and I lean over his desk to take a look at the paper.

Every last problem has been worked on. I glance up at him. He doesn’t bother looking at me, so I start going through the problems to check his work.

Fun fact: Dallin thinks math is useless, but he’s good at it. Not one answer is incorrect, which means I owe him…half a bag of candy. He looks mighty pleased with himself as I count out and hand him piece after piece.

“How’d you get so good at math if you hate it?” I put my half-deflated bag of candy back into my purse.

“I don’t hate it,” he says. “I just don’t see the use in bothering with it.”

Sounds a lot like what he said about football. “Maybe you should bother with it because you’re a freaking math whiz.”

He scoffs.

“I’m serious, Dallin. Math skills like this are valuable. They’ll open a lot of doors.”

“Last time I saw you, you were trying to convince me not to give up on football. Now you’re saying I should pursue math?”

“I’m saying develop every skill you can. Pursue football. Pursue math. Keep your options open. You can always close doors later, but if you don’t bother opening them while you can, you pretty much guarantee you’ll end up doing something that makes you miserable. The cliché knowledge is power is true.”

“Money is power. And I don’t have that.”

I shrug. “I’m not going to argue against that. Money definitely matters. But it’s not the only thing that matters, and if you need proof of that, just look at that hot guy over there.” I point to Luca, who happens to look up at that moment.

His eyes fix on mine, and my heart skips a few beats.

“He’s only made it this far with hard work,” I say, “and by taking people’s doubts and using them for motivation. If you want to stick it to the man, the best way to do that is by proving the man wrong and succeeding when you have every excuse not to.”

Dallin’s quiet as he stares at me.

“Work with the things you have control over,” I say. “Then you’ll be in a better position to make the most of any luck you do happen upon.”

“I don’t get lucky.”

“Not with that attitude you don’t.” I toss a wrapper at him, which he deflects at the last second. “Make your own luck.”

He snorts again as I walk away, but when I catch sight of him a minute later, his eyes are glazed over. He’s thinking.

“How’d that go?” Luca asks.

“Impossible to tell. Worst-case scenario, I gave him a bunch of unsolicited advice and a bunch of cavities.”

“What more could he ask for?” Luca teases, slinging his arm around my shoulders.

“Money,” I say. “He’s convinced he’s got no prospects without it and that everyone but him gets lucky.”

Luca’s gaze flits to Dallin’s corner. “I know that feeling.”

“That’s what I told him. But I think maybe I convinced him to try to make his own luck.”

Luca looks down at me with a distinctly appreciative light in his eyes. “Of course you did. How?”

“By telling him to give money the middle finger, basically. But secretly?” I look up at Luca. “I get what he’s saying, and I still wish he’d gotten one of those scholarships at the camp. The kid could use a leg up.”

“Sometimes having someone who believes in you is even better.”

“It’s hard to know exactly what questions they’ll ask at the interview,” Preston says through the speaker as Luca and I sit on the couch at home. “They’re trained to ask the type that’ll tell them what they need to know.”

I shoot Luca a look that says oh joy . “I take it they aren’t the warm fuzzy types who give slaps on the wrist now and then?”

“Correct. They have one job, and they take it seriously: identifying people who’ve abused the immigration system and seeing that they don’t get away with it.”

“Perfect,” I say.

Preston goes over a list of potential questions with us. On the surface, they’re innocuous, but some of them aren’t easy for us—and that’s when we’re sitting next to each other and Preston can’t see our guilty faces.

“Maybe we should just tell them the truth,” Luca says once we get off the phone. “That we didn’t realize how serious what we were doing was?—”

“And that your agent was more than happy to egg us on,” I add. “Not to mention he was the one who even suggested getting married.”

“I don’t think he really meant it.”

“Maybe not, but he should’ve been upfront about how serious it was once he knew. Have you talked to him about the interview?”

“Yesterday. He didn’t say so, but I think he feels bad.”

I cock a brow. “Because he’ll never see his percentage of your contract money?”

“No. I mean, yeah. That too, I’m sure. But I don’t think he’d really thought through what would happen to us if we got caught. He’s a glass half-full guy.”

I sigh. “Well, he can pay for our bungalow in Belize as reparation.”

Luca smiles and leans in to kiss me. These are the moments I live for. When he holds me, it feels like, just maybe, everything can work out. They wouldn’t really separate two people who are genuinely in love, right?

According to Preston, they would.

While Luca’s gone to practice each day, my saving grace is Summit Reach, where I’ve become an almost-daily fixture. You’d think learning more about the tough situations most of the kids come from would just add to the despair trying to take over at times, but strangely, it doesn’t. Connecting and making friends with them somehow helps me feel less overwhelmed by my own problems.

I’ve made so much progress with Dallin that he actually gives me an acknowledging chin lift from his place in the corner when I come in for a couple hours on Friday morning. It’s a moment of deeply felt victory that I pretend to barely notice because, when in Rome.…

At this point, I’m on a first-name basis with all the regulars, and Dallin is among those. Despite the fact that he loves to give me the shortest possible responses to my questions, I’ve managed to piece together bits about his life and the fact that his home functions more as a revolving door for delinquent older cousins than anything.

“Tori.”

I look over to find the program director, Angela, poking her head out of her office. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

“Of course,” I say, but my heart starts beating more quickly. Did I break a rule? Maybe she found out that I’m under investigation for immigration fraud.

She closes the door behind me and gestures for me to have a seat. Her office is small but neat, with a computer on the desk as well as a few fidget toys for the kids. “I knew Tori Callahan was here when I heard laughing through my closed door.”

I clench my teeth. “Sorry about that.”

She smiles. “Please don’t apologize for making this a happier place. Rarely have I seen someone connect so easily with the kids.”

“Amazing what enormous bags of candy can do, isn’t it?”

She laughs lightly. “You’d manage the same thing without that. That’s why I wanted to talk to you.”

I brace myself—I’ve been waiting for someone to tell me I’m not allowed to bribe the kids with sugar anymore.

She leans forward on her desk and clasps her hands, staring directly at me. “I don’t know much about your situation, Tori, but I have to ask: is there any chance you’d be interested in accepting a position working here?”

I stare at her, my mouth open. “What?”

“I think you’ve met Brian who works here, right? He’s moving to Riverside, so we have a position to fill, and I really think you’d be the perfect replacement.”

I blink a few times. “Sorry, I’m just a little confused. It’s a volunteer thing, right?”

“No,” she says. “It’s a part-time position. It’s not Fortune 500 pay by any means, but it’s better than you might think. I can give you more details, of course, if you have any interest in the position.”

I let out an incredulous laugh. “Are you kidding me? That sounds like a dream!”

She grins. “I’m so glad to hear you say that.” She opens a binder next to her computer and lays it out in between us, turning it so it’s facing me. “Shall we talk details?”

I get home just in time to see Luca before he has to catch his flight. They had two home games in a row, but this week’s is in Florida. I’ve been dreading his leaving. He’ll only be gone a couple days, but when you have no idea how long it’ll be before you’re separated, every minute counts.

But today, I have a surprise for him.

“I thought you wouldn’t make it,” he says, wrapping me in a bear hug.

I shut my eyes and revel in how it feels to be held by him and the way he nuzzles his face into my neck. Dallin wasn’t wrong when he said I’m lucky.

What sort of person trips into the marriage of their dreams?

“Cutting it close, aren’t I?” I say.

He pulls back to look at me. “I was hoping we’d be able to eat lunch together, but your pork salad is on the counter. Extra cilantro. Extra sour cream. Extra guac.”

I smile. “You’re too good to me.”

“Impossible.” He pushes a piece of hair out of my face and sighs. “Guess I’ll see you on Sunday?”

I cock a brow. “You’ll see me sooner than that.” I pull out my phone, open an email, and put up my screen to show him the flight I bought fifteen minutes ago.

He looks at it, then his gaze flicks to me.

“Bought with my brand-new salary as a program director at Summit Reach Youth Center. Well, technically not with that salary since I won’t get a paycheck for a good three weeks, but?—”

Luca sweeps me into his arms and kisses me, shutting me up in a very effective way. My favorite way.

He pulls back and looks at me, so much pride in his eyes, I could cry. “Congratulations. Are you happy? Do you feel like this job is what you want?”

“One hundred percent,” I say. “It’s just dumb it didn’t cross my mind as an option until Angela brought me into her office—once I realized she wasn’t about to get mad at me for throwing candy around like confetti.”

There’s a honk outside, and Luca’s eyes clench shut in consternation. “I want to celebrate with you,” he says, setting me down.

“Oh, you will. A huge, old party because we’ll be celebrating my new job and you winning your game.”

He smiles, then cups my cheek as he brings his lips to mine. “See you in the stands?” he whispers after kissing me.

“See you from the stands.”

Luca plays a stellar game in Fort Lauderdale, and I have an amazing time with the three other WAGs who flew out. It’s a strange feeling that ripples underneath the surface of all the happy, though. The future hovers like a dark figure lurking in the background, and I can’t help wondering how long any of this will last and simultaneously wishing it could continue forever.

Our prep meetings with Preston punctuate a life that’s otherwise full of happy moments. Luca and I are convinced Preston has guessed the truth of things between us, but thanks to Zach, we know we can’t tell him explicitly. He’d have an ethical obligation to report us, which is exactly the opposite of why we’ve hired him.

“What if we just tell the truth at the interview?” Luca repeats when we’re out to lunch with Zach a week before the interview. “I want to be done with the stress of trying to cover our tracks.”

I totally get what he means. “Yeah, there’s gotta be some appreciation for honesty, right? Wouldn’t it be better to get ahead of things if they’re likely to discover the truth anyway?”

“You guys have got to think positive,” Zach says. “Visualize your success, or you’ll create your own failure.”

Suddenly, I feel sympathy for Joyce when I was talking about manifesting. It just sounds hokey.

“This is their job, though, Zach,” I say. “Identifying people who’ve done exactly what we’ve done. Aren’t they likely to show more mercy if we don’t try to lie? I can only imagine the consequences will be harsher if we dig in our heels and lie through our teeth.”

Zach’s already shaking his head. “Preston says all they care about is whether two people married for a green card, and if you admit that to them, you will face the consequences. It’s much better to take our chances. You guys are in a legitimate marriage now, right? So, you’ve got a good chance, I think.”

I press my lips together, but I just can’t take it. I’ve had frustration with Zach building inside me for weeks now. “Take our chances? You include yourself in that like you’re the one who’ll be facing the consequences if it goes poorly. And maybe you should. You were the one who suggested Luca get married—and yes, I know you were joking—but you were also the one who didn’t tell us the stakes once you found out we’d done it.”

It’s dead quiet, but Luca’s grip on my hand tightens.

“You’re right,” Zach says quietly, spinning his glass of lemonade slowly. “I just…really thought it would all work out. And it still might. I just don’t want you guys to give up yet.”

I don’t want to give up, either. That’s the problem. The life I have right now is so freaking good that the thought of everything changing is becoming unbearable. Luca says he cares more about me than the NFL, but he deserves the NFL too. He deserves it all.

My hours at Summit Reach continue to be my most valued distraction as I tutor and play games and sports with the kids there. Luca has started coming by once he’s done with practice, and there’s an immediate run for the field whenever he does. Everyone loves playing football with him. Even Dallin participates.

He’s made progress since our little talk a couple weeks ago. He’s been getting his homework done first thing once he arrives—“So you’ll leave me alone,” he claims—and I’ve seen him practicing drills with a couple of the younger guys afterward.

The Admirals lose their last preseason game by two points, and the week before the Stokes interview is taken up by Luca’s grueling practice schedule. It’s supposed to go long Thursday, which is the day before our interview, so I plan to spend my time at the youth center.

Much as I love that place, I’d so much rather be with Luca. It’s the last day before I find out whether my future will consist of researching ways to reunite with my deported spouse.

Most of the kids start showing up to Summit around 2:45, and I help one of the freshman-aged girls on her history essay. We’ve come up with a general outline when someone taps me on the shoulder.

I turn and find Dallin looking at me.

I veil my surprise. Dallin never seeks me out. “What’s up?”

“I just wanted to say bye.”

I raise my brows. “Didn’t you just get here?”

“I’m not staying.”

“Okay…” I’m thoroughly confused because this is a very un-Dallin-like conversation.

“I won’t be back,” he says.

I straighten and face him, my stomach sinking. “Oh? Why’s that?”

And that’s when I realize why his expression is so weird: he’s trying to suppress a smile. Which is more baffling than ever. Compared to Dallin, Luca is Buddy the Elf.

“I have football practice after school now,” he explains.

“Football practice?”

He nods, and the smile grows a little more apparent. “I tried out for a club team a few weeks back, and I made it, but I didn’t have enough money.”

I search his face, trying to put together the puzzle pieces he’s giving me. “But now you do?”

“Angela called me last night to let me know I got a scholarship.”

My eyes widen, and I grab him by the shoulders. “Are you serious?”

He nods, his efforts to mask a smile weakening by the second.

Now I’m the one grinning like a fool. “You mean…you got lucky?”

He laughs, and I’ve never been happier to see a kid smile in my life. “I guess I did.”

I want to hug him, but I’m actually not clear on the rules around that, so to be safe, I put up my arms to signal a touchdown and then break into my dance.

To my utter delight, Dallin joins in. For like 1.5 seconds. But those seconds are marvelous.

“I gotta run,” he says. “To practice.” He can’t stop smiling as he says the words, and I can’t either as he turns back toward the door. He stops when he gets to it and looks back at me again. “Tell your husband thank you.”

“Good luck, Dallin,” Angela says, coming up beside me and waving at him. “Don’t be a stranger.”

The door closes behind him, and I stare at it for a few seconds.

“That scholarship may just change his life,” Angela says.

“I really hope so,” I say. “Who gave it to him?”

There’s no response, so I look over at Angela, who’s looking at me strangely.

“Oh,” I say, “is it confidential? Sorry. I’m still figuring out how this all works. I almost hugged Dallin just now, but I’m assuming that’s a liability.”

She gives a breathy laugh. “Tori, it was your husband. Luca gave him the scholarship. And to three other kids too. I assumed you knew.”

I shake my head silently, eyes wide. Luca gave Dallin a scholarship?

“That’s why he said to tell your husband thank you,” Angela explains.

“I thought he wanted to thank him for playing with them a couple times a week.” I’ve got a knot in my throat as I think about how Luca pulled this off without me knowing. To be fair, it’s not as if I check our bank account often.

But with all he’s got going on right now—practice, getting ready for a season that could end before it even begins, preparing for the interview that’ll decide his future—he found the time and sacrificed the precious money to make a few kids’ dreams come true.

How did I get lucky enough to almost get run over by that semi?

Angela smiles. “I’m sure Dallin’s thankful for that too. You’ve both made a big difference in his life, you know. You’re a real power couple.”

My smile fades slightly. Her comment reminds me of the conversation I need to have with her. “Hey, so, I…can’t come in tomorrow.”

She shrugs. “It’s Friday. It’s usually our lightest day.”

I nod. I could leave it at that, but it feels dishonest, and I’m so tired of feeling dishonest. “The reason I can’t come in is because Luca and I have an interview with immigration.”

“Okay. No problem.” She doesn’t know what the upshot is of this.

“It’s a serious one,” I say. “A marriage fraud interview. I don’t know how it’s going to go, but it could end badly. I just…needed you to know. I want to work here so badly, and I hope I can continue to, but I’ll understand if that’s not possible. Depending on the outcome tomorrow. And if Luca gets deported…”

Her brows knit. “That might happen?”

I nod, blinking away the burning in my eyes. “If it does, we’ve promised we’ll find a way to be together, wherever we have to go to make that happen. I probably should’ve told you when you offered me the job, but?—”

“I understand, Tori,” she says softly. She looks at me, then sighs. “If our immigration system wants what’s best for this country, they’ll see the value you two bring.”

I try to smile, wishing I could trust whoever interviews us tomorrow to prioritize that over everything else. For now, though, I just want to go home and snuggle up to my husband in our house on the beach while that’s still an option.