“Fine, fine.” I hold my hands up in surrender. Crossing to the bookshelf, I pull down the thin white volume and crack it open to the first page. Settling in on the far end of the bottom bunk, I lean back against the wall and clear mythroat.
I haven’t even made it through the first page when Potter curls up on my left side. Approximately ten seconds later, two bare feet make their way down the ladder rungs, and Harry launches himself into the sliver of space to my left. They lean in to see the pictures as I turn the pages, cuddled as close as possible, warmer than two tiny spaceheaters.
I keep my voice soft as I read the story about a box of crayons who go on strike from their duties — Red lamenting how he has to work harder than any of the other colors; Green complaining of a constant parade of reptile drawings; Blue reduced to a stub from forever shading in the sky. As I turn the page to Purple — who’s wondering why it’s so darn hard to stay inside the lines — I glance down at the blonde heads snuggled into my sides and see both kids are already asleep, no doubt exhausted from their hours of chasing me around the park like banshees. I’m about to close the book when I feel the weight of someone’s eyesonme.
Looking up, I spot Luca leaning against the doorjamb. I don’t know exactly how long he’s been watching me read to the kids, but from his expression I’d guess the answer isa while. The room is half-dark, lit only by a small table lamp and a plug-in nightlight, but even with his features cast in shadow I can clearly make out the devastatingly tender look inhiseyes.
This was a mistake,I realize abruptly.Introducing Luca to the twins… playing house with him all day, like we really are some kind of family… it’s stirring dangerous thoughts to life inside my head… and even more perilous feelings to life inside mychest.
My throat feels tighter than normal as I slowly extract myself from the twins, doing my best not towakethem.
“Asleep?” Luca whispers, appearing at my side like a ghost. I’ll never get used to the way he moves — in total stealth, a feat that should be damn near impossible for a man of such largeproportions.
Nodding, I turn to the bed and lightly shift Potter’s body, so her head is on the pillow and her limbs are covered by the blankets. I have no idea how I’m going to get Harry back up to his bunk withoutrousinghim.
“Here, I’ll get him.” Luca swoops in before I can blink, lifts Harry into his arms with such gentleness you’d think the boy were made of glass, and promptly deposits him in his bed. I watch his big hands pull the covers up over the boy, and curse my stupid heart for clenching like a fist inside mychest.
I wasn’t wrong,earlier.
He’ll make a great fatheroneday.
We’re silent as we douse the lights and walk out of their room, the door shutting behind us with a soft click. I can feel Luca looming close on my heels as we descend the stairs and walk back to the kitchen. The puppy is sound asleep on the hardwood floor, limbs splayed in all directions like a bonelessstarfish.
“I don’t even have food for him, just remnants of the kibble Duncan left behind in his doggie carrier,” I murmur, glancing at Luca. “I suppose, if I’m keeping him, I’ll have to get some. Plus a bed, and toys, and plastic bags.” I narrow my eyes at the dog. “Lots and lots of plastic bags, pup, because you are a mass producer of poo. I genuinely do not understand know how such a small beast can create such a bigoutput.”
Luca steps up to my side. “You ever gonna give him a name, or keep calling himpoochandpupforever?”
“If I name him, I have to commit tokeepinghim.”
“Ah. And Delilah James Sinclair never commits toanything.”
“That is not true. When I find a flattering shade of lipstick, I rarely vary from it. I’ve been wearing the same MAC red since I wassixteen.”
“Not what I meant, and youknowit.”
“Then what did you mean, pray tell?” I flutter my eyelashes. “No doubt another charming criticism of my every personalitytrait.”
He shakes his head. “Not a criticism. Also not a fan of you pulling this Holly Golightly shit, though — her and herno-name slob cat,who she can’t own up to loving or naming, ‘cause she’s so determined to be alone. Hate to break it to you, babe, but thatnever love a wild thingmentality never made anyone happy, least ofallher.”
“You’ve seenBreakfast at Tiffany’s?” I exclaim, stunned by therevelation.
Who the hell got Luca Buchanan to watch a rom-com?The question sends an unfamiliar flare of jealousy through my chest. I ignore it, witheffort.
“Not thepoint,babe.”
“Well, it waskind ofthe point, I mean, the fact that you’ve seen that movie is a vital part of your littleanecdote—”
“Delilah.”
My mouth snaps closed. I sigh and look back at the sleeping puppy for a moment insilence.
“Fenway.”
“Comeagain?”
“Fenway.”
“The neighborhood, the frank, or the ballpark?” he asks, still notunderstanding.