“That’s sixteen more than I need,” he promised, giving me a lopsided grin and hurrying past me, pressing a hand to my forearm as he did.
I paced the living room, smiling at Becca as she entered the room. “Are you ready to go see Grandma and Grandpa, sweetheart?” I looked her over, checking for crumbs or stains and dusting her off to be sure I wasn’t missing any. I wouldn’t dream of bringing her to my parents in any state other than perfect.
I heard the water shut off upstairs and, within minutes, Lucas was rushing down the stairs, dressed in his best jeans and a blue button-down shirt, his hair slicked back with gel.
“Ready?” He clapped his hands together, looking us over then scooping Becca from my arms and kissing her cheek before kissing mine. “Wow, my girls are beautiful.” He smelled of spearmint mouthwash and bergamot cologne.
“Thank you, and thank you for hurrying.”
“I’m sorry I was late. Traffic was a little worse than I expected.”
“And you forgot?”
His lips seemed to be teetering between a grin and a frown. “And I forgot.” His grip tightened on my hip as I grabbed my purse, Becca’s bag, and the keys.
“How was your trip?” I asked as I slid the key into the lock, and he stood beside me, waiting.
“Boring as usual. Just another conference. How did things go here?” He bounced Becca in his arms. “Did you keep your mama in line?”
“Of course I did!”
She squealed with joy, and I smiled, shaking my head. “Everything was fine here.”
I felt my phone buzz in my pocket as a text came through, and though I knew who it was, I didn’t dare check it. Not in front of Lucas. I couldn’t. Last night was a moment of weakness. I shouldn’t have texted him. Shouldn’t have invited him over again. I’d been so strong since the first time.
Last night was a mistake.
Lucas could never know.
We walked toward the car, and he buckled Becca in before holding out his hand for the keys. I tossed them over and climbed into my seat, waiting for him to drive.
I should’ve been worried, should’ve been nervous he’d find out what I’d done. Twice. But I couldn’t be. Not right then. I could only focus on one crisis at a time and, currently, that crisis was my parents.
“Oh, Naomi, you look marvelous, darling,” Mom said, wrapping me in a hug with a stiff kiss on the cheek as we met at the door. She was dressed all in white, a loose top and capris to match her white heels and cool, blonde hair.
“So do you, Mom,” I told her, stepping aside so she could reach for Becca.
“Hello, sweetheart.” She took her from Lucas’ arms and kissed her cheek, squeezing her tight and placing her down. Then, she went in for Lucas.
“And who’s this handsome man?” She lit up, hugging him longer than either Becca or me. “I swear, you just get better looking every time I see you.” She pulled away, one hand still around his neck. “Naomi still taking good care of you?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, looking at me helplessly as his neck flamed scarlet. “Very good care of me.”
She stepped back, releasing him. “Excellent. I’m so glad you all could make it. Our schedules do make it so hard sometimes. Your father’s on the veranda, Nae.”
We walked through the vast, airy entranceway, through the state-of-the-art kitchen, and out the back door into the oasis they called a backyard.
“Hey, Dad,” I said as he stood up, laying his book on the table in front of him.
“Hello, sweetheart. Colette, you didn’t tell me the kids had arrived.” He hugged me, rubbing my back gently. “You look beautiful.” He held out a hand for my husband to shake. “Are you keeping her out of trouble, Luke?”
Lucas nodded, accepting his handshake. “Doing my best, Walt. How was Italy?”
“Just beautiful,” my mom answered. “It really is the best time of year to go right now. After most of the tourists have left and you can truly just settle in with the locals.”
Dad nodded along dutifully. “She’s right. You two will have to come with us next year. Oh, or, we’re planning to go to Bora Bora next week. You should come then. They should come then, right, sweetheart?”
Mom gave a stiff grin. “Of course they should. They’re always welcome. What do you think, kids?”
“If only I could get the time off work,” Lucas said, rubbing the back of his neck. “One of our best surgeons just retired, so things are slammed right now.”
My dad’s face fell into a frown, though I knew he was expecting this answer. It was always the answer. When I was six, my father sold an award-winning script to a studio that hit it big. Since then, he had dabbled here and there in producing and writing, but they’d been traveling on his royalties all my life. Usually, I was left behind with a nanny, which seemed to be the way they enjoyed it. I could count the number of times, on one hand, I’d been able to go along. Now that I was with Lucas, and they knew our schedule wouldn’t allow it, the invitations had begun to come more often.
“Well, another time then,” he said with a sigh. “Now, how about some drinks? We brought some amazing wine back that you’ll just have to try. Of course, we couldn’t bring back all we would’ve liked to.”
“Right, yeah. That sounds great,” Lucas said, scooping Becca up as she began to run circles around the sharp edges of their glass coffee table. “Easy there.”
“I’d love a glass, Dad,” I said. “Please.”
“Oh, you’re in for a treat.” He clapped his hands together and hurried back into the house, seeming more excited than he had in a long time. We followed close behind, and I kept an eye on Lucas who was struggling against Becca’s attempts to get back on the floor.
“Do you want to go out and play in the yard?” he asked, but she shook her head.
“No, I want to stay with you.”
“That’s fine, sweetheart, but you know you aren’t supposed to run inside the house, right? You’ll fall and get hurt.”
“I won’t fall!”
I reached for her. “Becca, mind your father. We don’t want you getting hurt.”
She crossed her arms to pout, but was distracted by my parent’s cat as it darted across the floor. Lucas set her down, letting her follow the cat and smiling at my mom who watched the interaction closely.
“Be careful, Bec,” I warned. “No running.”
She slowed her gait instantly. In the kitchen, Dad poured four glasses of wine and passed them out. “So, tell us, Luke, what have you been up to lately? Any interesting surgeries?”
Lucas seemed shy, though I knew it was a put-on. There was nothing he loved more than bragging about his latest surgery. “It’s been a slow few weeks. We had a tumor that was growing teeth a few months ago, did I tell you—”
“Yeah,” Dad interrupted, looking positively delighted, “you told me about that one. Disgusting. I tell you, I don’t know how you do it, son. One look at blood, and I’m toast. Ask Colette.” He pointed at my mom, who nodded, appearing unamused.
“It’s true.”