At home, the masks came off, and Luke would shrug out of his Hollywood polish, sometimes literally, changing into my lavender hoodie from Muses like it was his uniform for unwinding. He told me about his dad, the man he admired most in the world, and I found myself sharing stories about my chaotic, love-filled childhood. He wasn’t just a movie star; he was a man who made me feel safe, cherished, and seen in ways I hadn’t realized I was missing.
It was during these evenings that I began to notice the subtle shifts within myself, too. While Luke immersed himself in preparing for his audition, I found myself drawn to the writing desk he had picked out for me. The desk overlooked the lush garden, its serenity coaxing me to sit down and face a blank page.
At first, it was just scattered thoughts, snippets of dialogue, and raw emotions, but soon, the words started flowing. I used my experiences and emotions to fuel the story, drawing heavily from my life in New Orleans and, without realizing it, my growing feelings for Luke. I felt alive and hopeful. It was like I’d found my voice again, and it was stronger than ever.
One night, my writing was interrupted by a knock at my door. Luke leaned against the frame, his casual confidence matched by the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Get dressed,” he said, his tone light but insistent. “I’m taking you out.”
“What? Where?” I blinked, caught off guard.
“Commander’s Palace,” he replied. “I hear that it’s one of the most iconic restaurants in New Orleans. Our reservation is in thirty minutes.”
This wasn’t just a casual dinner; this was anoccasion.My eyes landed on the black dress Luke’s stylist had chosen.
If this wasn’t the occasion for it, I didn’t know what was.
When I came downstairs, Luke was waiting near the door, adjusting his cufflinks. He was in a tuxedo, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe. The way the fabric fit him, the effortless charm in his posture. The soft lighting from the chandelier caught the sheen of the black fabric, highlighting the suit’s sharp lines.
But then his eyes found me, and the world seemed to shift, like gravity had suddenly changed direction. He didn’t speak at first, but the way he looked at me, like I was the only person in the room, made my heart flutter and my cheeks flush with heat.
“You look incredible.”
I smoothed down the dress, trying to play it cool. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”
The drive to Commander’s Palace was brief, barely enough time for me to get over the fact that I was on my way to a legendary New Orleans restaurant with Luke Fisher, Hollywood heartthrob. Tom and Hal ushered us into a private room as discreetly as possible, sparing Luke the need to wear sunglasses and a cap.
Scanning the menu, Luke leaned in closer. “What’s the standout here? Turtle soup? Crawfish étouffée? Barbecue shrimp?”
I chuckled. “I’ve never been here, but the turtle soup is supposed to be legendary.”
He nodded, a spark of excitement lighting up his face. “Then it’s a must.”
The ambiance in the private room was warm and intimate, the perfect blend of elegance and charm. As the food arrived, Luke took his first hesitant bite of the turtle soup. After a moment, his eyes widened, and he leaned back dramatically. “Divine.”
I leaned in, lowering my voice. “Okay, is Tom trying to pass as a busboy? Because he just rearranged a stack of napkins like it was a security threat.”
Luke didn’t even turn around. He just smirked and sipped his drink. “He’s got a whole system. Blend in, look bored, monitor exits. Occasionally, fluff a bread basket.”
I laughed. “Subtle. Very low-profile. If the Oscars ever give out awards for background acting, he’s got it locked.”
“Don’t encourage him. He once shadowed a valet for an hour because he thought the guy looked suspicious.”
“What was suspicious about him?”
“He had a man bun.”
I snorted into my water.
Luke’s smile faded just slightly, enough for something more serious to slip in. He set down his glass and looked at me across the table.
“Truth is… they’re not just watching the waiters and busboys here. They’re watching for anyone watching us.”
I blinked. “Us?”
“You know,” he said, his tone light but edged with something serious, “when we figure out how to take this relationship public, we’ll have to be careful.”
I blinked at him, caught off guard by his choice of words. “Public?” I echoed, my heart leaping with a joy so unexpected it almost made me dizzy. A smile spread across my face before I could stop it, warmth flooding my belly.
He nodded. “It’s only a matter of time before someone takes a photo or asks the wrong question. And I… want to be ready for that. For what it means when we’re not just having dinner in a private room. When it’s headlines and speculation and the whole mess.”
