Chapter 8

8

TORI

Most brides spend hundreds of dollars designing the perfect wedding invitation to give people ample warning of their intent to get married and to invite them to participate in the celebration. Their moms, sisters, and friends might sit around a big table and make an assembly line for stuffing envelopes, stamping them, and addressing them.

I, on the other hand, am about to tell my family via text message that I got married–past tense—while I sit with Luca on my couch, filling out immigration paperwork.

I’d wager a guess most brides also didn’t spend their wedding night giving their ring back to their husband, waving as his car pulled away, and then searching Amazon for cheap but passably real-looking wedding rings until it was time to go to bed. Alone.

But I’m not trying to live a normal life here, am I?

So, here’s what I’ve got in the “compose” box.

Tori

Hey fam! I did a thing the other day: I got married! Not an April Fools’ joke. The final Sheppard is officially off the market! I can’t wait for you all to meet Luca and see what a great guy he is, but for now, we’ll be enjoying newlywed bliss *wink emoji*

In this case, newlywed bliss is code for filling out Form I-864, Affidavit of Support, while Luca sits next to me on my couch, doing similar paperwork. We have a meeting scheduled with Zach’s immigration lawyer friend, Preston, tomorrow, but until then, he emailed us a bunch of forms to fill out.

From what I can tell, on this particular form, I’m promising to support Luca financially until…Armageddon. Luckily, the likelihood of that is extremely low. I mean Luca needing my financial support. Not Armageddon. As far as I know, that could happen any day.

Meanwhile, I’m learning a lot about my husband, like how he’s doing quite well for himself, thanks to the brand deals he’s gotten as one of USC’s star players. It’s kind of wild to me that he’s so well-known in his sphere, while just over a week ago, I had no idea he existed.

I press send and set my phone aside. Part of me is nervous, but mostly, I wish I could be there to see my siblings’ reactions.

I know. I’m evil. This is so much worse than breaking up with someone over text, but the alternatives were…impossible. For instance, telling my family in person? Get out of town. I’d be hounded and hounded until I was forced to admit everything: my idiotic venture into oncoming traffic, pretending I had a boyfriend-turned-fiancé to save face, and finally actually getting married. They’d probably squeeze a bunch of other things out of me too—long-forgotten guilty secrets from childhood.

The point is, before Ryan, I was already the Sheppard who makes questionable choices. Siena, Troy, and Austin are all married and successful, while here I am: the perma-secretary who got dumped by the guy she defended to her family and has had to ask that family to spot her money on multiple occasions.

I’ve given up trying to fight my familial reputation, though. Here’s to embracing it and turning it against them for once! Eventually, I’ll let them in on the prank and tell them the real story, but for now, I plan to enjoy having the upper hand and freaking them out.

“You sent it?” Luca asks.

“Yep,” I say with a mischievous smile.

He shakes his head, typing into one of the entries on his current form. “And what do you suggest I do when your dad and brothers show up with a shotgun?”

“They’re more likely to want to shake your hand or offer you condolences.”

A sequence of buzzes lets me know the reactions are starting to pour in.

Troy

A bit bored, are we, Tor?

Siena

If I have to drive down there and be a designated driver for you tonight, I will morning sickness all over you.

Austin

I’m leaving the music industry and becoming a goat farmer.

Oh, is this not the thread for outrageous lies?

I wrinkle my nose. “Ugh. No one believes me. They’re gonna require more evidence. Here.” I swipe to the camera app and hold up my phone for a selfie.

Luca and I look like classmates studying for a test, not newlyweds.

“Scoot closer,” I say. “And close your laptop.” I close mine and shimmy next to him until our arms are pressed together. The man is like a gigantic, personal heater. He also always smells like he just got out of the shower. “Come on,” I urge him.

“What?” He shifts in his seat. “What am I supposed to do?”

“I told them we’re busy enjoying newlywed bliss, so…try to look… not like that.” I nod at my phone screen to indicate the distinct lack of besotted husband vibes he’s giving off.

“This is how I look, Victoria.”

I sigh. “Fine. If you can’t bring yourself to look infatuated, kiss me on the cheek or something.”

He hesitates, then obeys, and I snap the shot in the split-second that his lips are pressed against my cheek.

I frown at the result. “You have to close your eyes or they go cross-eyed. Try again.”

He does.

“Better,” I say, still frowning. “Oh! Duh.” I get up from the couch and grab the small Amazon box on the kitchen table. I pull out the two tiny plastic bags inside and take them over to the couch. “Forgot these.”

I open one of the bags and hand him his ring, then slide on mine, which fits much better than his grandma’s did. It’s also a lot gaudier in comparison. Oh well.

“Okay, let’s try again.” I put my hand up so my ring is visible in the camera, then snap a shot once Luca kisses my cheek.

I smile at the result and sigh. “You’re so obsessed with me.” I send it to the family thread, then shoot another text. It’s not easy being the youngest in a family that enjoys messing with each other, but tonight, I take my revenge.

Siena

Are you actually serious? You got married?! I will kill you, Victoria Marie Sheppard.

Kill.

You.

Austin

Uh…is that Luca Callahan?

Troy

How much did you pay him to take this picture?

That’s when my mom calls. I stare at my phone screen for a few seconds, debating whether to answer. I’m sure they’re worried, though, so I pick up.

“Hey, Mom!”

“Tori? Are you okay, sweetie?”

“More than okay,” I say, winking at Luca, who’s watching like I’m a dumpster fire about to explode in his face.

“You’re just teasing us, right?” It’s my dad’s voice now, and I can picture him leaning over Mom’s shoulder, a worried expression on his increasingly-wrinkly face.

“No, Dad. You’ve got a new son-in-law! And he’s gonna be your favorite.”

They both start speaking, but I talk over them. “I can’t really talk, but I promise I’m happy and healthy, and I’ll answer your questions soon—and introduce you to Luca officially. I’m just really busy right now.”

Not the type of busy they probably assume, but they don’t need to know specifics. And I’d like to not have this conversation until I can figure out how to frame it properly.

“For now,” I continue before they can say anything, “can you act as my liaison? Let everyone know you talked to me? I don’t want to spend my precious honeymoon hours fielding questions.” A thought occurs to me, and I turn to Luca and mouth kiss me! while I point to my cheek.

He looks at me like I’m a crazy person. He must’ve reached his cheek-kiss quota for the day.

Clearly, he’s going to be zero help. I glance at Luca and stage-whisper, “Stop it! My parents are on the phone!”

His brow furrows, silently asking, What?

I slide my hand chaotically over my phone’s mic to imitate a playful struggle. Luca looks at me like he’s just now realizing the mess he’s gotten into by tying himself to me in a legally binding way.

“Okay, okay!” I whisper. “Gotta go, Mom and Dad! Love you!”

And then I hang up.

Luca stares at me.

“What?” I say. “I needed to get them off the phone. Trust me. It’s for the best.”

“Right.” He’s thoroughly unconvinced.

To fend off any other potential calls from family, I grab the Explanation of Benefits letter I got from my insurance company today and call the hospital billing department. That ought to tie up my phone line for a good hour. It’s definitely been tying up my thoughts since I opened it. The number under “patient responsibility” is nauseating.

When I finally reach the right department, I leave the living room and shut myself in my room. I need the hospital to give me some leeway on payment deadlines, and I don’t want Luca to hear that conversation. The anticipated bill is every bit as astronomical as I’d anticipated: just shy of $5000. And that’s after insurance. I feel sick every time I think about it.

Mara’s the billing employee I have the pleasure of talking to. She’s a middle-aged woman who seems to hate her job. I can’t blame her. No one wants to be the one hounding people for payment after the physical and emotional trauma of a hospital visit.

“Hi, Mara,” I say. “I just received my EOB from my insurance company, and I wanted to?—”

“That’s not a bill,” she says.

“Yeah, I understand,” I say, looking at the huge capital letters on the letter that say This is not a bill . “I just wanted to get a head start and talk with you to see if there’s an arrangement we can come up with since the bill is…a lot.”

“It’s not a bill, ma’am.”

I shut my eyes and force myself to smile. “Yes. Thank you. I understand that.”

In the most bored voice on the planet, she asks for enough information to look up my account. Two minutes of typing and clicking follow while I pace my room

“Okay,” she says. “I’ve got your account pulled up.”

“Great. Is there any type of discount you can offer, or at the very least a payment plan or something? It’s going to take me a while to pay off that amount.”

“Ma’am,” she says like I’m the biggest idiot she’s ever talked to, “there’s a zero balance on the account.”

I blink. “What?”

“I see a payment was made based on the early estimate we provided. Now, that may change once your insurance processes things—there could be some small, residual amount owing at that point—but at this time, there’s nothing to pay.”

I sit with the phone against my ear, mouth open, nothing to say.

“Ma’am?” Mara says.

“Yeah, I’m here. I’m just…a little confused. Is it still processing with insurance? Is that why the amount isn’t showing due yet?”

“As I said, ma’am, there was a payment made. I can see it right here on my computer.”

“But that’s not possible. I haven’t paid anything. I didn’t even know how much the bill was until I got this letter today. Not a bill, yeah, I know,” I cut her off. “Are you sure you’re looking at the right account?”

“Yes, ma’am,” she says, audibly annoyed at my lack of confidence in her.

I sit in silence for a few more seconds. There’s got to be some error. “Who paid it?”

“I’m not at liberty to disclose that information due to privacy policies,” she says like a billing robot.

“You can’t tell me who paid my bill? Can you tell me anything ?”

I can almost hear her pursing her lips in annoyance. “The payment was made over the phone three days ago by credit card. Sometimes people make payments on the patient’s behalf. You could check with any friends or family you might have.”

Mara sounds like she sincerely doubts I have any such people matching that description in my life.

“But—” I cut myself off. She doesn’t want to listen to me processing things. But the truth is, no one in my family and none of my close friends even know I was at the hospital. Luca, Zach, and Jess are the only people who know. Jess’s sweet as pie, but she doesn’t have a spare five grand, and no offense to Zach, but he doesn’t seem the type to go paying off the medical bills of strangers out of the goodness of his heart.

I guess Tyler knows. And Ryan, probably. But the thought of either of them doing this is laughable.

Which leaves Luca.

“I’ll do that,” I say into the phone. “Thank you for your help, Mara.”

Once she hangs up—best part of her day—I bring my phone to my chest, staring absently at my room. My $5000 bill is paid. Zero balance.

Have there ever been two more glorious words?

I turn suddenly and head to the living room. Luca’s leaning forward, reading the miniscule text on one of his forms as he scrubs a hand over his stubble.

Did he really do this?

The idea is crazy to me. But who else could have?

He glances back at me, and his brows tug together. “You okay?”

I walk to the couch. “Um, yeah. Very okay, actually. I just called the hospital about my bill, and they told me something interesting.”

His eyes grow a bit more intent as I sit, but he doesn’t say anything.

“They said my bill had been paid.” I hold his gaze, and we stare at each other.

It’s a full-blown stare down.

“That’s good,” he finally says.

I’ll give it to him—the man has a good poker face. It’s kind of the only face he has, actually. He looks like he couldn’t care less about anything, but in reality, he’s helping old ladies at vending machines and saving thoughtless young ladies from death and medical debt, which can feel like the same thing.

“You really didn’t have to do that, Luca.”

He turns back to his computer. “It’s no big deal.”

I scoff. “It’s $4832 worth of a deal. I’ll pay you back.”

“No.” There’s no give in his response. “I was the one who forced you to go to the hospital. I’m the reason you have that bill.”

“You’re also the reason I’m alive.”

“And that you’re spending your evening doing immigration paperwork.” He squints at the screen. “I don’t even understand half the stuff this form says.”

“Luca,” I say with a hint of amusement at his attempted diversion tactic.

“Statutory interpretation?” he reads from his screen. “What does that even mean?”

Trying and failing not to smile at him blatantly ignoring me, I stare him down. “You know what? Fine. If you won’t let me say thank you, you give me no choice but to express it through other means.”

I turn my body toward him and, before he knows what’s happening, I wrap my arms around him. As much as I can, at least. My hands don’t even meet on the other side of his shoulders, but my chin rests on the one closest to me.

It’s like hugging a block of granite—if granite had amazing taste in cologne.

“Thank you, Luca,” I say softly.

His shoulders relax slightly, and his face curves toward me so that the rough hair on his cheek tickles my temple. “You’re welcome,” he says, his voice barely audible.

A smile tugs at the edge of my lips. The granite isn’t as impenetrably hard as it looks. I pull away, letting my arms fall from his body.

He leans forward with his elbows on his knees, already back to trying to comprehend legalese.

I follow suit, but I steal a couple of glances at him every now and then. If marriage to Luca means hanging out with him like this, I’m not mad about it.

I may make a constant stream of questionable decisions, but I’m starting to suspect I married a really good human.