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Chapter fifty-two

Luca

A s much as I miss my kid, I’m finding it surprisingly easy to cope just by annoying Samara. It gives me a sense of ease I never knew possible.

And as soon as we landed in Santiago, I switched my phone out of airplane mode. It’s taken a few minutes to fully load everything, but now that it has, I’m breathing more easily. Cici sent close to thirty pictures of Gia doing absolutely nothing, but I love them all the same. Dante texted that he spoke with her on the phone to check in, and she was doing well.

“Gia doing okay?” I hear Samara’s voice trickle in through my thoughts.

Lifting my gaze from the pictures on my screen, I meet her pretty brown eyes, they’re a mixture of espresso and caramel, two of my favorite things. I smile gently at her. “Yeah, she seems to be doing really well, and judging by all the pictures I’ve gotten of her doing literally nothing, Cecily is just about as obsessed with her as I am.”

For the first time in forever, Samara actually smiles at something I’ve said. “Good, every little girl deserves to be loved by parents who are obsessed with her very existence. Little boys too,” she says, nodding as if to confirm her own statement. I couldn’t agree more.

The flight attendant opens the door to let us out, and immediately, everyone starts standing to rush out. Luckily, sitting in first class means we get to get out of this tin can first.

Once we’ve exited and are heading toward baggage claim, I finally ask, “Okay, so if your family lives in Philly, why didn’t we all fly together?”

She shakes her head. “I love my family, but they’re overwhelming in large doses, especially to travel with. So, as soon as I turned eighteen, I set a firm boundary of not using any form of public transportation with them. My parents thought I’d lost my mind and assumed I was just going through a phase, but it’s been over a decade, and I haven’t flown with them or so much as ridden a bus with them since high school.”

I smirk at that. “I like that. You know exactly what you want, and you’ve paved a path to getting it. I can respect that.”

“Well, Luca, I’m so glad you can respect something about me.” She rolls her eyes and trudges forward to wait in the crowd of people surrounding baggage claim.

Does she really not think I respect her? I hope she was being playful, but I’m never certain with her.

I sidle up to her and have to stop myself from laughing when I see her glare up at me from the corner of her eye. “Come on, princess, do you actually think I don’t respect you?”

“To tell you the truth, Luca, I’m not sure. Sometimes, you’re super sweet and seemingly understanding of my boundaries, and other times, you do everything in your power to stampede right over them.” She says this without even looking at me, keeping her eyes glued to the conveyor belt of luggage.

“I’m sorry I’ve ever made you feel disrespected, Samara, truly. I know my personality can sometimes be a lot, but I promise to do my best to tone it down for you.” I keep my tone soft as I tell her this, hoping she’ll believe my words.

She assesses me, her dark brows pinching together and her lips pursing. “ Never dull your shine for someone else’s comfort,” she says, shaking her head. “Those of us with big personalities are taught to do so at a young age, but it isn’t us that’s the problem, Luca.” She reaches out, rubbing the pad of her thumb over the space between my thumb and forefinger before she draws back, straightening and looking over at the black belt carrying our luggage. “It’s their fault for trying to adjust our expectations to make themselves seem more interesting,” she says, her words almost a whisper.

Warmth spreads through me, my limbs tingling, and my chest expands. She may never know it, but her words settle something inside me that has never felt like anything less than a beast trying to break free of a cage.

Our luggage comes zooming by, and Samara leans over, wrapping her manicured fingers around the handle, and tries to pull hers off the belt, but the strap gets stuck.

This cute little crease forms between her brows, and I just wanna kiss it right off, but I assume that would be crossing some lines, so instead, I lean over her, dislodging the strap and yanking it off.

“Thanks,” she mumbles reluctantly, and that same laugh is climbing up my throat. By the will of god, I keep it tucked away this time too.

Once all of our bags are accounted for, I extend my arm toward the exit. “Where are we off to now?” I truly have no clue because she booked everything, and I just gave her my card to cover it. I told her to pay for her portion, too, as my treat, but of course, she refused. Always so stubborn.

“We have a town car waiting for us outside. It’s an hour and a half drive from here to our resort in Punta Rucia.”

“Ooh, a resort. Fancy ,” I murmur. Truth be told, I’m stoked about this trip. I haven’t gone on a real vacation since my senior trip in high school.

I’ve had the money to do it, just never the time with my hockey schedule, and when the season was over, I didn’t have anyone to go with. Most of my friends are married or just have their own lives with such little time for anything else, so it hasn’t happened.

It’s another part of the reason I suggested this wacky-ass idea in the first place. Even if Samara can’t stand me, I’ll have a little time to enjoy a few good naps and some sun while I’m here.