“So, Topher mentioned you’re from a big family?” I said.
“Yeah, my adopted family. My mom passed away when I was ten, and I ended up moving in with my Aunt Delores and Uncle Ray. They had four children—two boys and two girls. It was an adjustment.”
I caught the subtle hesitation in her tone, the way her fingers brushed against the edge of her glass. “That must have been a lot.”
“I guess.” She shrugged. “After my mom died, I got used to not being anyone’s priority. Delores and Ray were great, don’t get me wrong, but with four kids of their own… You learn to fend for yourself.”
She said it so matter-of-factly, like it didn’t sting anymore. But it did. I could feel it in the way her smile faltered, the way her eyes darted away for just a second too long.
I wanted to say something to lighten the mood. But what could I say that wouldn’t sound hollow?
Her words tugged at something deep inside me. I didn’t have anyone who put me first either, I realized. Not since my dad died. He’d been the one person who always looked out for me, no matter what. And now? Now I was Luke Fisher, the face on the posters, the guy everyone recognized but no one knew. Everyone wanted something from me, but no one stuck around just for me.
The thought settled heavily in my chest as I looked at Anna. She brushed it off so easily, like it was nothing. But it wasn’t nothing.
It was everything.
“So,” she said suddenly, her tone lighter, like she’d flipped a switch. “Anyway, yes, my whole family’s still here in New Orleans. They wouldn’t dream of leaving. When Hurricane Katrina hit, that was the first time they’d even left the state.”
I tried to wrap my head around that. “Wait. Katrina was their first time leaving Louisiana? Ever?”
She nodded, her expression pensive. “Yeah. For a lot of people here, evacuating for Katrina was the first trip out of state they’d ever taken. It’s hard to explain, but New Orleans is everything to them. Most people don’t have the means to leave even if they wanted to, and with so much family here, there’s no reason to go.”
“And you’ll never live anywhere else, you don’t think?”
She shook her head. “No, never, this is home.”
I let that settle, trying to wrap my head around it, when there were so many incredible places in the world. “When you moved in with your aunt and uncle, what was it like being thrown into such a big family?”
She laughed, the sound warm and light. “Loud. Always loud. They’re a loving bunch, but let me tell you, peace and quiet were never an option.”
I thought of my own childhood, which for most of my life was just my college professor dad and me. “Sounds like you never had a boring day.”
She smirked. “Not one. We didn’t have fancy vacations or eat out at restaurants, but we always had what we needed. My aunt was also very involved in volunteering. It made me feel guilty sometimes for wanting more, you know? Seeing so many people who had less than we did put things into perspective.”
Her honesty was disarming, and for a second, I felt a pang of guilt for holding back about my own family. She’d just laid it all out, and here I was, sidestepping the very thing I was asking her about. But diving into the layers of my history wasn’t something I was ready for. The truth is, I was afraid—afraid that if I let her in, I’d lose control of the image I had so carefully built.
And so, I held back. Because opening up felt like stepping off a ledge I wasn’t sure I could climb back from.
I gave her a small smile, deflecting. “Sounds like your aunt and uncle did an incredible job stepping in and raising you.”
Anna nodded, but her eyes flickered with something I couldn’t quite read, like she knew there was more I wasn’t saying. I felt her gaze for a second longer than was comfortable. Then she looked away, the moment slipping by as effortlessly as the conversation had started.
We stepped out of the restaurant and into the warm, golden hush of early evening. Royal Street pulsed with charm. The windows of antique shops glinted in the fading light, and buskers played music low and sweet on a saxophone nearby. For a moment, I could almost forget who I was, or who everyone thought I was.
Then, the skies opened up, and a sudden downpour drenched us in seconds. “Classic New Orleans,” Anna quipped, leading us to the shelter of an overhang. I scanned the street instinctively, my gaze darting to anyone who might recognize me. Tom and Hal had hung back half a block, giving us space to talk without hovering, though I had no doubt they were watching. Only when I was sure no one on the street was paying us any attention did I relax enough to peel off the now-soaked glasses and wig, giving it a good shake.
“It’s all right.” Anna took the wet wig from me and tucked it into her bag. “These showers are fleeting. It’ll clear up soon.”
But just as Anna finished speaking, a woman with an umbrella came to a sudden stop a few feet away. Her eyes widened like she'd just spotted Bigfoot in designer sneakers. “Wait a second... you’re Luke Fisher.”
My heart shot into my throat. Before I could even blink, Anna sprang into action. Her arm slid through mine, and her voice went full Broadway.
“Darling,” she gasped. “She thinks you’reLuke Fisher. Can youimagine? Luke Fisher just strolling through the French Quarter? Without a publicist? Or a single bodyguard doing that weird earpiece squint?”
I tried to play along, nodding with a sheepish grin while Tom and Hal, standing a few feet away, watched closely but pretended not to know us.
The woman’s expression wavered, excitement giving way to confusion. She glanced at me again, then back at Anna, recalibrating. “Yeah... you’re right. That would be crazy,” she said with an awkward laugh. “Sorry.”
