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Chapter forty-eight

Luca

Saturday, August 22, 2026

I haven’t heard a single thing from Samara since the night she left my house. Not that I had expected to.

She’s never willingly contacted me before, and she seemed embarrassed when she ran off. That’s a hit to my ego, but I’m mostly just worried about her.

I dropped Gia off at Cici’s house an hour ago, and while I don’t want to be that guy, I can’t stop pacing.

I trust Cici, I really do, but I know she doesn’t trust herself yet, and I’m just waiting for her to call me crying at any moment, and I don’t think my heart could take that.

I want to be there for her, and Gia needs her mom, but things feel like they’ve almost been going too well, and it’s making me irrationally nervous. I’ve been pacing the floor of my living room for so long I feel like I’m leaving visible wear marks in the vinyl.

Between Cici, Gia, and Samara, I feel like I’m losing my mind.

I’ve tried texting Samara and calling her, and I’ve had to keep myself from sending her a damn email or, I don’t know, a fucking carrier pigeon?

I’ll just call her one more time , and if she doesn’t answer, I’ll let it go. I’ll have to let her go.

Pulling out my cell, I check my messages again in case I missed anything from Cici. I haven’t. I’ve checked my phone a hundred times.

I search for Samara’s contact and hit the call button. It rings and rings and rings some more, and all the while, my mind is running in circles. Just as I’m about to hang up and save myself some of the humiliation of leaving her another voicemail, she answers.

Or at least, I think she does?

“Samara?” I ask, waiting for any kind of response to tell me she actually meant to answer her phone.

“You called me, Luca. Shouldn’t you know who you called?” she asks me, but there’s no bite to her words despite the clear annoyance she’s trying to portray. I can almost picture her smirking face as she goads me, and instead of their desired effect, I’m a giddy schoolboy.

She answered! Hell yeah!

“I just couldn’t be sure, you know, since you’ve been dodging me for over a week,” I tell her, fully recovering from my mini panic attack moments before.

“I’ve been busy. I have a job, you know,” she scoffs as if I’d really believe that’s the reason she’s been avoiding me.

“Well, you must not be busy right now since you answered the phone. Can I come over?” The words nearly fly out of my mouth.

“What? No. Why would you come over here?” she asks, clearly flustered. Just the way I like her.

“We’re about to go on a vacation with your family as a couple. What if your parents say something about your place? I should at least know what it looks like,” I explain, pulling that out of my ass and hoping that she still plans to go on this vacation at all.

“First of all, we aren’t a couple. We’re fake dating.” It takes everything in me not to bring up the fact that we definitely looked like a couple while she was coming around my fingers. But that’s probably just because of what my brothers refer to as me being “serial monogamous.” I don’t do one-night stands, but my definition of a relationship tends to be looser than most. Meaning that I’m typically only in a relationship for a couple of weeks. “Secondly, I can send you pictures of my place or video call you. You don’t have to come over here and disturb my peace just to see what it looks like.” She sounds flustered, and I love it.

Does she really not think I’ll have another reason to go over there?

“Princess,” I say, drawing out the name. “Are you trying to tell me you want to try phone sex with me? Because I’m totally game.”

“Luca!” She huffs, and I think I hear steam billowing out of a tea kettle. On second thought, though, that’s probably just the smoke from her ears. “How did your mind manage to twist my words into that ?”

“Pure talent, baby.”

“I think you need to find a dictionary.”

“You know, I’m more of a table of cocktents kind of guy, but I’d be glad to take a look at your dicktionary if you’d like,” I say, continuing to tease her.

“You’re an idiot,” is all she comes up with. I’m disappointed. I’d hoped for more bravado.

“Oh, come on, Samara. What do you think is gonna happen if I go over there?”

“Nothing good.” She groans. I disagree… I think things could be very good, but I don’t say that either.

“I dropped Gia off at Cici’s an hour ago, and I’m wearing a hole in the ground with all the pacing I’ve been doing. Help me out and give me a distraction, please , principessa. I promise I’ll keep my hands to myself if that’s what has you worried.”

Not that I want to keep my hands to myself when I’m around her.

I hear her smack something on a hard surface and try to picture what the hell it could’ve been. A book on her table, maybe? No , I shake my head. She wouldn’t risk injuring a book like that.

“Fine. You get one hour and not a minute more, Luca. You see the place, and then you leave. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I say, smiling ear to ear. “Text me your address.”

The line goes dead, and my gut starts to sink, but a text with her address comes through a moment later. Hell, yes!