Page 54 of Hail Marry
“Uh, no,” I say.
He chuckles. “It’ll be great. Any team would be lucky to have you.”
“Thanks, Mr. Sheppard.”
“It’s Rick,” he says, stopping in front of the door and facing me. “We’re family now.” His expression shifts, becoming more sober, and his brown eyes search mine. “You’ll take care of my Tori, won’t you, Luca?”
Heart suddenly racing, I nod. “I promise.”
He holds my gaze for a few eternal seconds, then smiles and opens the door for me. “I believe you.”
Inside is full of chatter, but Tori catches my eye from the kitchen. She doesn’t say anything, but her eyes apologize profusely.
“You know he calls her Victoria?” Austin takes a lil’ smoky from the Crock-Pot, and his mom smacks his hand.
“What?” Siena wrinkles her nose.
“Right?” Austin says.
“You hate being called Victoria,” Siena says as Tori sets out napkins.
“He calls me that because I’m his queen,” Tori says.
She gets blank looks, including from me.
“Hello? Queen Victoria, anyone? Ugh, you guys are so uncultured. Maybe you should’ve come with me to the Victoria and Albert Museum when we were in London.”
“We’re uncultured?” Siena says. “That’s rich, coming from the woman who eloped.”
“Speaking of which…” Troy comes through the door with his dad, holding a wrapped gift in one hand. He walks over and hands it to Tori.
“What’s this?” she asks.
“A wedding gift, of course,” he says. “Open it together.”
Tori’s eyes meet mine, and I know she’s thinking the same thing I am: the type of wedding we had doesn’t merit wedding gifts. There’s a decent chance this wedding gift will cost more than the wedding itself, and that’s…not okay.
It’s not like we can refuse, though, so we sit on the couch next to each other, and I watch her pull off the wrapping paper.
A white photo album stares back at us. On the front in an elaborate script, it saysOur Wedding. Beneath is a picture from our photoshoot. It’s pixelated like someone did a screen grab from their computer.
Tori opens the album and flips through the plastic pages, which are completely blank. She looks up at her family. “Har har. Very funny.”
Everyone’s smiling at us.
“You had to know that was coming,” Austin says.
“Now for the real gift.” Mrs. Sheppard smiles and hands us another present.
Tori puts it in my lap. “Your turn.”
I stare at it for a second, a sick feeling in my stomach. I’m a terrible person for deceiving this kind family into thinking I’m at all deserving of any gift other than a right hook to the jaw.
Tori nudges me, and I push past the thoughts and pull open the paper while everyone watches and the baby coos.
It’s another album. This one isn’t white and elegant, though. It’s sleek and minimalist, with a taupe cover. The wordsThe Story of Usare embossed in gold. On the bottom of the cover, it saysThe Callahans. Est. 2025. I run my finger over the words. That’s Tori and me—the Callahans.
“You might not have many wedding memories or pictures,” Mrs. Sheppard says, “but you’ll have plenty of moments you’ll want to remember in the future, and we thought this would be a good place to store them. There are a few standard ones in there to get you started—first Christmas, birthdays, Fourth of July?—”
