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Chapter eighty-four

Luca

S amara’s expression turns to confusion. My hands are gripping her cheeks as I take her in. Her every feature, making a mental note of each of them for every time I wish she were with me, but she won’t be.

She covers my hands with hers and holds them steady as they begin to shake.

“Luca,” she says softly.

I clear my throat before daring to speak again. “Yes, princess?”

“What exactly do you think is going on here?” she asks, her voice still quiet.

I can’t even answer her, knowing that I have no right to feel as torn up about this as I do. She was clear from the start, and I’m the one who went and became emotionally invested.

I knew this would break me.

But I did it anyway.

At least I know she was worth it. Because every moment spent with Samara has been worth the inevitable soul-shattering heartache I’m about to experience for the first time in my life.

“Luca, you’ve gotta talk to me here because I think there might be a misunderstanding, and there’s nothing I hate more than miscommunication when it could be easily solved by both people opening their damn mouths,” she tells me, her voice now a more familiar volume.

I work my jaw, trying to unlatch it from its hinges so I can finally speak, but my tongue is glued to the roof of my mouth.

When I manage to speak, my voice sounds as choked up as I feel. “I figured if I only got one more night with you, we may as well make it a good one. Go out with a bang, ya know?”

I try to lighten the mood with a chuckle, but the sound never makes it out of my throat.

She squeezes her eyes closed, dropping her hands from mine and rolling out from under me. Samara sits up, staring me down as she shakes her head, seemingly in disappointment. “Luca, you stupid, stupid boy.”

“I know,” I agree. “It was stupid. You told me from the beginning that we weren’t ever going to be anything, and here I am,” I say, smacking my forehead with my palm, feeling even more like an idiot now that I’ve spoken the words out in the open.

I feel her wrench my hand away from my face as she clutches the fine layer of hair in the center of my chest. “No! God, Luca. This isn’t goodbye sex!” she shouts.

“This is ‘hello’ sex!” she says, her voice an octave higher.

“‘See you in the morning’ sex!” Her voice continues to climb. “’Let’s do this again’ sex! ‘Cuddle me after this’ sex! ‘Let’s go another round’ sex!”

I stare at her, stunned, my mouth agape. “I’m sorry, what?” I ask, tilting my head, hoping the confusion I’m feeling will lift enough for me to fully grasp her words.

She grabs my cheeks between her palms and pierces me with her gaze. “You, Luca De Laurentiis, are a fucking prize. And I’m a fool for taking this long to realize it. And no, before you do that dumb shit your brain is probably formulating up there,” she says, tapping on my forehead with her index finger, “I don’t mean that I suddenly found clarity after having sex with you. I like you , Luca. Not just your dick. You , the sweet, funny, kind, compassionate man who drives me up a goddamn wall and simultaneously keeps me from jumping off the top of that same wall when my family is driving me nuts. You, the man who had a literal child thrown into his life with absolutely no warning, and still managed to do the right thing, pick up the pieces, and then shock me in my own courtroom by still finding that compassion woven so thoroughly into you that you can find empathy for just about anyone, even the woman who didn’t tell you about that child. You , Luca, the man who I’ve been fighting so damn hard not to fall for, and yet, somehow, you’ve made that feel impossible.” When she’s finished, she’s panting with the effort it took to shout directly into my face that long.

The understanding that Samara is falling for me, though definitely not as hard as I’ve fallen for her, knocks me flat on my ass, but the weight I’ve been carrying around, waiting for an entirely different outcome to this night, leaves me immediately. The corners of my mouth turn up, and finally, I can speak. “You like me?” I tease.

There’s that eye roll I love so damn much. “You’re insufferable.” She huffs. “But yes,” she confirms, her voice softening. “Very much.”

I meld my lips against hers and pull her body down beside me in bed.

“Too much, I think,” she whispers softly.

My lips brush over her hair, and I just hold her.

My heart squeezes tightly in my chest, an unfamiliar serenity enveloping me as I dig through the pieces of tonight and list out the most important ones.

Kat and Alessandro are finally married, and the wedding was beautiful.

They’re adopting a little boy named Oliver, who I’m bound to love more than life itself, just like I do all of my nieces and nephews. I love being an uncle.

The next one makes me feel every bit like the idiot that Samara told me I am. I thought this was our last night together.

And the last thought makes my heart pound so hard and fast it might just explode out of my chest. I was wrong, and more than that, she wants to be with me.

Minutes that feel like hours pass by, and when she rolls over, still facing me, I have another question on the tip of my tongue.

My brows pinch slightly as I look down into those warm-brown eyes I adore. “Call me apprehensive, sweetheart, but I can’t just accept that you’re falling for me because I’m simply the best,” I start, making sure I’m being open and honest to avoid any further miscommunication between us. “We need to have a real conversation about this. I want to know the real reason, every reason that you ever felt you couldn’t trust me or that things between us wouldn’t work. Because as much as I want them to, they won’t if we aren’t honest from the jump.”

She nods, taking a moment to gather her thoughts.

“When I first met you, I was jealous and pissed off.” My head rears back as surprise clutches at my neck. What was there to be jealous of? I was a wreck when we met. Hell, I still sort of am. “I had recently finished a round of IVF that I decided was going to be my last, and with no baby in sight despite years of trying, here you were, asking for my help after a perfect, healthy little girl fell right into your arms.”

A gnawing feeling eats away at my sternum. I rub my hand over the spot, trying to soothe the ache as if it were physical. “I may not be able to understand your personal experience with infertility, but I can imagine that that would be really upsetting. Especially working with parents every day who actually do know their children and need to fight to keep them.”

“That definitely didn’t help,” she agrees, but her lips pinch and her glossy eyes only add to the soreness I feel. “But then when I looked into you and found that article, coupled with the endless stream of beautiful women you were photographed with, it made me feel even more like you weren’t deserving.” The look on her face is so pained I want to do anything in my power to wipe it right off.

“To tell you the truth, every day that I get to see my gorgeous little girl, I feel undeserving. Imposter syndrome has threatened to strangle me practically my entire life, and it’s no different with Gia.” I shake my head, squeezing the bridge of my nose as the burning in my nostrils subsides. “Just like when I blame myself for every loss in the rink and hold myself personally responsible even though I know it’s a team sport, I do the same with Gia. And when I realize something isn’t working or I’m not at my best, I work for it. I strive to be the father she deserves, and I’ll work toward being the partner you deserve too.”

She bites the corner of her lip before she says, “I see that now, Luca. And I’m not just saying that. I’ve seen you grow as a father and a prospective partner every day. You always put the needs of others ahead of your own, but you aren’t too caught up to forget to ask for help when it’s what’s best for both you and Gia.” Her words are like a warm, tight hug, and my heart sings with her praise. “I’m proud of you and the way you and Cici have managed to co-parent so beautifully,” she admits. Tears stream down her cheeks, and I kiss them away, clutching her to my chest.

“Thank you, princess. That means more than you know,” I say into her hair. “Now lay it on me. What else do we need to cover before we agree to really be together? Why did you pull back from me after we got back from our vacation?” I feel my muscles tense. I know I’m the one asking for this, but it’s a unique kind of self-inflicted torture as if I’m reminding her of all the reasons she may still choose to leave me.

But I’d rather know now.

Her sniffles quiet. “I was jealous,” she whispers, and the embarrassed way she says it has me coughing to cover up my laughter.

“Sorry, sweetheart. What was that? You were what?”

Her dark eyes shoot up to pin me with a glare. “I said,” she answers dramatically, “I was fucking jealous.” She swats at my chest, and the fiery look in her eyes sends tingles through me. I love it when she gets all riled up like this. “I was jealous of the women flirting with you at baggage claim.”

I snort, and it’s loud and obnoxious, but she doesn’t bother trying to hide her amusement. “You know, I don’t think you ever mentioned them, but I had barely noticed them. Unfortunately, it comes with being a professional athlete. I’m so used to brushing people like that off that I rarely pay attention anymore. But I want you to trust me when I say that I will continue to fend them off, and I’ll even wear a giant sign telling everyone that my body and my heart belong to Samara Perez-Allen, and anyone who dares to try you will suffer a great deal.”

“You’re absurd,” she says with a laugh.

I reach over to the nightstand and grab my phone, typing my name into the search bar.

“What are you doing?” she asks, confused.

I move the phone in front of her face and watch as it registers for her. I slowly begin scrolling through the images. “I know you wouldn’t ask me to do this, but I just wanted to make absolutely certain that you knew. I haven’t so much as looked at another woman since Gia arrived at my home and haven’t wanted to since meeting you.”

Her eyes begin to well with tears. “Arielle explained what really happened in that photo,” she tells me.

I smile at her. “I know, princess,” I say, kissing the top of her head. “There’s nothing that happens in my family that we don’t all know about. You better get used to it.” I smirk.

“But I need you to understand why it upset me so much,” she says.

“You can tell me anything, Samara,” I answer, though I’m not sure I’ll be able to handle it if she’s dealt with even half as much as Arielle has firsthand. It’ll crush my heart, and I can’t be held liable for the things I’d do to whoever hurt her.

She peers up at me with glossy eyes pooling with tears. “When I was in law school, my best friend, Cora, still lived here. She had gotten married at the courthouse after her boyfriend got her pregnant,” she says, her voice cracking.

I lean into her, kissing a fallen tear off her cheek.

“I didn’t even know what was going on with her until it was too late,” she says, her words breaking on a sob. Guilt flows freely through her voice, and the familiar constricting feeling of my throat closing and eyes burning with unshed tears hits me like a tidal wave.

I continue rubbing soothing circles along her back, allowing her the time she needs to find her words. “Her daughter was only two at the time, and when she finally got up the courage to leave him, he used it against her. She made it to the shelter and was so damn close , but then he convinced her that if she didn’t come back, he’d take her to court. And as a Black woman with no job, she was too terrified to take the chance.”

She blows out a breath, shaking her arms out to recenter herself before continuing. “When she returned, he killed them both and then himself.”

Her words leave me stunned, and rage rips through me. I wrap my arms around her, clutching her to my chest as she continues to sob.

“I can’t even begin to imagine how difficult that must have been for you,” I whisper. “But I’m so goddamn proud of you for everything you do for the women at the shelter and just for being you.”

“I’m sorry, Luca,” she says once her cries have stopped. “I misjudged you so much, and I shouldn’t have put all of that on you.” Her voice is strained and quiet.

Kissing the top of her head, I roll her on top of me so I can hold all of her. “I’m not sure what you’re apologizing for, but there’s no need. I’ve been reckless in how I’ve let the media portray me, and that’s no one’s fault but my own.”

I press another kiss to the top of her head.

She brings her lips to mine, kissing me slowly. Every emotion she’s felt in the last twenty-four hours sinks into my skin as she does.

“There are things I don’t know how to do. Things I’m not very good at yet. I’ve never felt this way about anyone else in my life and that means something to me. I want to put in the effort, for you, and for us. I might need a little direction sometimes, but I’m good at making corrections. My career depends on it.”

“What are you saying, Luca?” she asks, always so blunt. Yet another thing I love about her.

“I’m saying that I recognize that I’ll never truly understand the intricacies of the struggles you face on a daily basis, but I want to learn. I want to bear some of that weight with you, and learn what you need from me as a friend and as a partner.”

She peers up at me with her big, soulful eyes. “Luca, as a woman, I have to work twice as hard, and as a Black woman, three times as hard to be afforded the same respect as my colleagues. That extends outside of the workplace. My Blackness is a part of who I am, and I love my culture and am honored by the strength of the people who’ve laid the groundwork for all that I’ve accomplished, but make no mistake that there will be things you’ll have to endure too. Interracial couples experience racism every day, and the fact that you’re a white hockey player doesn’t change that.”

My heart clenches tightly, thumping painfully against my ribcage. “I’m not worried about me, Samara. I’d walk through fire to get to you, sweetheart. I just need to know that I’m what you want, and that you are willing to deal with even more societal pressure and stigma by being with me. I’ll understand if you’re not.” It would break my heart, but I would understand and respect her decision. “Anything you need to feel comfortable and safe, I’m willing to do or learn how to.”

She reaches her hand up to cup my cheek, her eyes glittering with unshed tears. “For you, Luca, I’m willing to try.”

That’s all the confirmation I need.

I take her hand, turning my cheek to press a kiss to her palm. “Thank you,” I whisper, folding my body around hers, tugging the covers up under her chin.

She lets me hold her the entire night, and it’s easily the most restful sleep I’ve ever gotten in my life.

When I wake up with this stunning, capable, strong, and fearless woman in my arms, I know without a shadow of a doubt…

She’s the one.