Page 85 of Hail Marry
It’s a good thing, really. I’d been hoping that asking all these questions to prepare for the interview—something we’ve been doing over text during training camp—would act like a glass of cold water over my head. After all, it’s easy to romanticize someone when you don’t know them very well. Like sighing at the sight of a bouquet of beautiful, vibrant flowers, but when you get up close, they’re plastic, the dye job doesn’t hold up to scrutiny, and they smell like a thrift store.
I was hoping Luca was a bunch of fake flowers.
But he’s not. And he definitely doesn’t smell like a thrift store.
I know so much more about him than I did a few weeks ago, and unfortunately for me, the man is an enormous, vibrant bouquet that only gets more beautiful the closer you get. He’s not a dozen roses. He’s peonies and ranunculus and anemones.
And the way he smells?
Don’t even get me started.
The man showers at least twice a day, which means I’ve seen him in a towel more often than any regulatory agency would consider safe.
There’s another problem with all of this, though. A bigger one. Even the most beautiful and best-smelling bouquet ends up wilting. Those vibrant flowers end up in the trash, brown and dry.
Which is why I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m not in love with Luca. Because I refuse to be, that’s why. Mind over matter, right?
It’s also why it’s great that he’s required to sleep at the hotel with the rest of the team during training season. Even greater is that I don’t miss him even a little. And the fact that I’m out walking the town has nothing to do with my restlessness about him coming home again for the first time tonight.
I’m out looking for job opportunities, thank you very much. Online job searching is soul-sucking, and since I now know that San Diego is my spirit’s home, I may as well see what catches my eye around here.
But not much does. Nail salon? Touching other people’s feet is definitely not my calling. Restaurant? Working in such close proximity to good food would wreak absolute havoc on my health. Juice bar? My favorite juice is Sunny Delight, which I’m confident disqualifies me automatically.
I want something that makes me feel like I’m making a difference. Helping Luca has made it clear to me that I can’t do mind-numbing computer work anymore. But what sort of jobs bear a similarity to marrying someone so they can get a green card and make it to the NFL? Preferably something that doesn’t risk jail time.
I check the time on my phone for what feels like the twentieth time, then head back to the house. Luca won’t be home for another couple hours, but my hopes of finding job inspiration in the streets of Encinitas have been crushed.
I make it to the house and smile at the welcoming sight when I come through the door. Thanks to the abundance of time on my hands, I’ve cleaned the place until it sparkles, and the fridge and pantry are stocked. Luca will only be home for two nights, but I want to be sure coming home is a happy thing. He might hate Canada and the memories he has there, but he won’t hate this place. Not on my watch.
This Saturday is the first preseason game, which means he’ll spend Friday night at the hotel. Part of me wonders what the point of renting this house was since I’m the only one living here. But while it’s a little lonely without him, I love this place.
When the front door opens half an hour later, my heart stutters, then hops to a clipping pace.
Be chill, Tori, or you’ll scare him back to the hotel.
I want to walk out of my bedroom immediately to go see him and ask him all about training camp, but instead, I finish putting away my laundry.
“Tori?”
“In my room,” I call out.
Footsteps approach, and the closer they get, the whackier my heart goes. Luca’s frame fills the doorway as I set the last hanger on the rack and turn to him.
There’s energy in his eyes that immediately grabs my attention. “Guess what?” he says.
“You punched Bennett in the face!” I’ve never met Bennett, but I have strong feelings about him based on what Luca’s told me.
He shakes his head. “I got a starting spot.”
My mouth opens, and my eyes go wide. I don’t remember crossing the room, but the next thing I know, I’ve jumped in his arms and thrown my arms around his neck.
“Of course you did!” I squeeze him, relishing in the familiar smell. “You’re amazing!”
He’s quiet, but his arms tighten around my waist, and he turns his face toward my neck. Luca’s not a man of many words, but he communicates in other ways, and this way makes my heart race.
Everything in me wants to stay where I am, but the last time I did this, it ended in a kiss, and while I would love nothing more than to repeat that experience, the image of wilted flowers comes to my mind.
I pull back, and he lets go so that I slip to the floor.
