We practically lived there. With Luca’s enormous, beautiful house just a short drive away, there was little reason to trek to my tiny flat. The thought of sprawling out in front of his fireplace or onhis huge bed, with all the room to move and breathe, was enticing enough to make the decision easy.
“How was your mum?” I hadn’t seen Rosie since last week when I’d visited for tea, but she was having a good streak after a few bad months of symptoms.
I saw her far more often than I saw my own mother, who still hadn’t forgiven me for quitting the show—especially since my complaint had led to Mark’s being kicked off the channel. Apparently, he had made more than a few women uncomfortable, and when I spoke up, many others did as well.
The fact that I was now teaching children only rubbed salt into my mother’s wounds.
But as my therapist reminded me on a weekly basis, my mother’s emotions weren’t my responsibility.
At least now one of us was happy.
“She was good. She gave me a book for you; it’s on the backseat,” Luca said, smiling as he gazed at me across the console.
My heart warmed. “Oh, I’ll text her to say thank you when we’re home.” I turned the radio down. “And the jobs Jack sent through? Are you considering them?”
“Maybe. They look like good opportunities, and voice acting offers more privacy than screen acting. I might talk with the producers. We’ll see.” He held his hand out, offering me his palm. I slipped my hand into his. “How was your day?”
“It was good. Jesse and Edward nailed the backward crossovers in our private session.” They were twins who’d joined my Saturday class a few months ago but loved skating so much that they’d enrolled in private lessons as well.
Since quittingStars on Ice,I’d thrown myself into teaching children. The first few weeks had involved a whirlwind of shrill voices and crying five-year-olds, but I’d gradually found my footing, discovering the joy in every wobbly glide.
Our conversation and the sound of rain filled the car for the rest of the journey, the steady drumming on the roof calming the buzz in my mind. As we chatted about our days and plans for the weekend, a familiar sense of ease settled overme.
I glanced at Luca, at his relaxed smile, and gratitude washed over me. All the years of not doing what I wanted felt worth it whenthiswas my reality.
Gravel crunched under the wheels as we pulled into the driveway. We quickly grabbed the food from the footwell and darted into the house, trying to avoid the rain.
Voices on the TV echoed from the back of the house. I glanced at Luca, puzzled. He paused, his eyes briefly meeting mine before rolling in exasperation. With a quick wave of his hand, he gestured for me to follow.
“What are you doing here?” Luca demanded before we’d even made it into the room.
Jack was sprawled across the sofa, fire lit and TV on, with a massive bowl of popcorn on the table. He was watchingBridget Jones’s Diary.
“Hey, honey, I missed you too,” he said sarcastically, pressing pause on the remote and rising to faceus.
“We saw you on Sunday.” Luca glanced over his shoulder as he placed the takeaway bags on the kitchen countertop. I grabbed a bottle of wine from the fridge and three glasses from the cabinet.
“Five days too long, if you ask me,” Jack said as he jumped up from the sofa and headed toward us, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the takeaway bags. “Can you blame a guy for missing his besties?”
I chuckled at his dramatics. “You’re busier than we are these days,” I added, pouring us a glass of wine each. I slid one across the counter to Jack and passed Luca’s to him with a kiss on the cheek.
“Don’t I get a kiss?” Jack turned his head and offered me his cheek.
Luca narrowed his eyes. “You’re pushing your luck for someone who literally broke into our home.”
“Aww, that’s cute.” Jack shrugged. “But I have a key; it’s not breakingin.”
“How’s camp?” I interjected, taking asip.
“It’s kicking my arse. Who’d have thought the planning alone would be this stressful?” His throat bobbed as he swallowed a gulp.
“Anyone could have told you it would be stressful,” Luca jibed, then added, “We don’t have enough food for you, by the way. So you can stop eyeing up the bags.”
“Huh. So, being a man of leisure still hasn’t made you agreeable.”
“I’m not a man of leisure. I’m working.”
“Yeah, and I’m a celibate monk who’s never felt the sweet warmth of a wet pus—”
