Page 71 of Hail Marry
“So much better,” I say with a sigh of satisfaction.
I stop short where the small hallway opens up to the larger room. Luca is seated on the edge of the king-sized bed with an iPad in hand. It’s what’s next to him that’s got my attention, though. Taking up the majority of space on the bed is a vibrantly purple, U-shaped pillow. “Is that…a pregnancy pillow?”
Luca glances up at me, then to the pillow. He doesn’t answer.
I walk over and run a hand along the minky cover. “This is totally a pregnancy pillow. Luca, honey, do you have something to tell me?”
I catch sight of a diagram with a bunch of circles and lines before he turns off the iPad screen and sets it on the bedside table. “Yeah. I do have something to tell you. That pillow is comfortable. And it’s a body pillow.”
“Pregnancy pillow.”
He stands up. “Try it out. I’m gonna hop in the shower.”
I do try it out. And he’s right. It wraps around me like I’m a fragile treasure whose sleep is to be protected at all costs. But I can’t help smiling as I picture gigantic Luca surrounded by this soft purple halo meant for pregnant women.
My phone buzzes, and a text shows up on the lock screen.
Jess
Not to disturb you during whatever important married things you’re doing, but apparently, there’s a shakeup coming to the company any day now
A shakeup. What does that mean? Very little about the company affects my day-to-day as an administrative assistant. I do all the boring stuff that every company has to do while the big boys make the exciting decisions and shmooze with clients.
I start typing a response, but Luca’s a much more efficient showerer than I am. He emerges, pulling a shirt over his head.
I get a flash of the abs that his wet shirt teased me mercilessly with at the beach. He would absolutely cause a scene at that Solana gym. And I’m not wild thinking of the women who live there ogling my husband.
“What do you think?” he asks.
My wide gaze jumps from his torso to his face. Is he asking me what I think of his abs? If I were a poet, I could write an ode to them.
But I’m not a poet, and thankfully, I quickly realize he’s asking me about the pillow.
“It’s very…purple,” I say from amidst its depths.And I’m in love with it.
He sits on the edge of the bed and looks at me, slightly amused. “That’s it?”
“Fine. It’s really comfortable, and I considered stealing it while you were showering.”
“You’d have to fight me for it.” There’s a hint of challenge in his eyes.
A vision of us wrestling on the bed flashes across my mind, and my heart is screaming for me to engage, to prove what I would do for this delectably soft piece of cloud. “We could share? Set up joint custody or something. You could have it on holidays. Preston could draft up an agreement for us.”
“Or I could forcibly remove you from my pillow. That belongs to me.”
Yes! Yes! Let’s do that!
I hesitate, half of my brain urging me to flee before I inadvertently—or advertently—wrestle Luca into finishing that kiss from earlier, the other half too curious to move a muscle.
“Sharing is caring, Luca,” I say, heart pounding.
“You’re right.” He starts climbing onto the bed.
“What’re you doing?” I ask warily.
“Sharing,” he says, drawing closer. “Scoot over.”
His large body looms over me as he waits for me to obey. Somewhere in the depths of my mind, I know that sharing this velvety purple pillow with Luca is not the course of wisdom. As a general rule, I’m not known for taking the course of wisdom, but tonight, I probably should.
