His Royal Quadruplets, page 10
“Andy!” Nikki calls out from the kitchen. She has an array of ingredients lined up on the countertop now, and she’s pulling more from the fridge. She pauses her work to say, “Be polite!”
Luca laughs. “No, he’s right,” he says. “Our teams are amateurs compared to what you guys have here in the States. I’m sure if there was ever a matchup—”
“We would crush you guys!” Andy says enthusiastically, causing Luca, Nikki and me to laugh.
Luca stands up.
“I think I saw a hoop out there. You want to go show me some of your moves?”
“Yeah!” Andy says, so loud it’s nearly a yell.
Nikki places a hand on her hip. “Inside voice, Andy.” Then she looks at Luca. “He’ll show you where the elevator is. Here, take this ball.” She reaches into a basket of toys off to one side of the counter and picks up a light, junior-sized basketball, similar to the one Andy uses in physical therapy. After handing it to Luca, she opens the door. “Dinner will be ready in one hour,” she says.
Luca gives me a wink as he pushes Andy out the door. “Enjoy catching up with your sister,” he says.
“Thank you,” I mouth before they disappear and Nikki closes the door behind them.
“Well!” Nikki says, bustling back to the kitchen. “He seems nice! Not at all what I expected from him. I know you mentioned he’s royalty of some kind…”
“He’s a prince,” I say. “He’s the middle of three brothers. His older brother, who’s just older by a few minutes, really, inherited the throne. Luca and his younger brother are princes.”
Nikki hands me a few carrots and a peeler. “A prince!” She shakes her head. “I just can’t believe it. Leave it to you, Phoebe. You’ve always been so picky about guys. I guess now I see why—you’ve been waiting for your Prince Charming!”
I blush but say nothing, settling onto a barstool at the counter where I begin peeling.
“And he is charming,” Nikki goes on. “He just seems so nice, and down-to-earth.”
“He is,” I say. “I had no idea he was any kind of celebrity when I met him. He didn’t act the part at all.”
“He’s humble,” Nikki says, with a nod. “He doesn’t come across like he’s better than anyone else. After you peel those, can you chop them up and add them to the salad?”
“Sure,” I say. I begin peeling the last carrot.
Nikki rummages through a cupboard to the right of the stove. “Where is my big pasta pot?” she says.
I listen to the clanking of pots, pans, and lids for a minute as I finish peeling the carrot. Then I stand and walk over to a small, high window on the opposite side of the apartment. It has a view out to the basketball courts that are below us. I want to check on Luca and Andy.
I have to stand on my tiptoes to get a view of the courts. I’m rewarded for my efforts with a clear view of Andy, wheeling in a beeline toward a makeshift basketball net, which is really just a hoop attached about four feet up a post, off to the side of one of the apartment’s more vacant parking lots. The basketball is in his lap, and when he’s just a few feet from the hoop, he uses both arms to chuck the ball toward the net. It flies through the hoop. Andy turns around, and I see a big smile on his face.
Luca jogs up to him and gives him a high five before chasing after the ball.
My chest fills with warmth as I watch the scene. I know this means the world to Andy. Because his school is over an hour away, he has very few friends locally. Playing like this—especially outside in the fresh air—is a real treat for him.
“Are they doing okay out there?” Nikki asks from the kitchen.
“Looks like they’re having fun,” I say. I return to my seat and start chopping.
Nikki fills a pot with water and says, “Good. Now, you have to tell me everything that you and Marla have covered. What’s the plan, going forward? What can I do to help?”
We spend the next hour getting dinner ready. Nikki does most of the cooking. After the salad is prepared, I tidy the apartment, clear the small table in the living room, and set it. I even put out a tablecloth and linen napkins, which is something Nikki and I rarely do when it’s just her, Andy, and me.
The four of us have an excellent meal. Nikki serves spaghetti and meatballs with marinara sauce and a tossed salad. It’s one of my favorite meals, and it’s a million times better than the food I’ve been eating for the past two days. I savor every bite. Andy is in high spirits, and I can tell that he’s eager to impress his new friend. While we eat, he regales us with stories about school, basketball, puzzles, and even some fun facts about dinosaurs.
After dinner, Andy, Luca and I sit at the table and work on one of Andy’s favorite puzzles. Andy asks Luca about a million questions about Westegaard, and I have fun listening to Luca’s answers, too. By seven thirty, Andy’s eyelids become heavy.
Nikki, who insisted on cleaning up from our dinner by herself, wipes her hands on a dishrag as she approaches the table.
“Okay, honey,” she says to Andy. “You have a big day tomorrow. I think it’s time to head off to bed, don’t you?”
“I’m tired,” Andy admits, with a big yawn. He looks at his mom. “Can we read one chapter of Tree House Adventures before bed?”
“I don’t know about a whole chapter,” Nikki says. “But maybe a page or two. Come on.” She motions toward the bedroom.
“Hang on,” Andy says. “I have to say goodnight to Auntie Phoebe and Luca, first.”
He makes his way around the table, giving me a hug and kiss goodnight, and then Luca.
Nikki and Andy disappear into the back bedroom, and Luca and I move over to the couch.
We sit. I sigh and lean back against the cushions. I’m exhausted, but I’m enjoying the feel of being with my family and Luca so much that I don’t want to admit how tired I truly am.
I want this night to last forever.
“What a good kid,” Luca says. “Do you mind if I ask… why is he in the wheelchair?”
“CP,” I say. Then, realizing that Luca might not know what that stands for, I clarify. “Cerebral Palsy. It makes it almost impossible for him to walk. His muscles are either too stiff or don’t respond at all. He’s had four surgeries already, and his doctors are advising a fifth.”
“What kind of surgery?” Luca asks.
“He’s had a few different kinds over the years, but this next one is spinal,” I say. “The doctors say if he gets it, there’s a good chance he would be able to walk.”
“That’s amazing,” Luca says.
I nod. “It would be amazing—if we could afford it. The co-pay is so high.” For a minute, I get lost in a daydream about Andy, walking. I imagine him running around with the other kids in the neighborhood, a big smile on his face.
Luca’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. “That’s why you stole from your employer in the first place… to help Andy,” he says. “Am I right?”
I meet his eye. “Yes,” I say. I’m so tired, it’s difficult to control my emotions. I feel my chin tremble, and my voice quivers as I say, “I wish I never did it. I wanted to help Nikki, but all I’ve done is cause more problems for her. She missed the last two days of work, and on top of that I’m not going to have my usual income this month… I don’t know how she’s going to afford rent, or the PT bills. Plus, we’re still making payments on the last surgery.”
I look away from Luca and try to gain control over myself. I feel tears threatening. I’ve cried on Luca’s shoulder enough today. I don’t need to do that again.
Luca’s voice is gentle as he says, “We?”
“Right,” I say. “I help Nikki with the bills. I always have. But…”
Defeat pulls at the corners of my mouth. I frown and lapse into silence as I try to think through the next move for Nikki and I. The physical therapist’s office has told us time and again that if we’re late for a payment, they won’t continue to work with Andy. It’s nothing personal, just policy. They’re the most in-demand child PT service in the city, and they have to be strict with their clients.
In addition, I know that Nikki is short on her rent payment. We have to come up with another five hundred in the next ten days. I have to deal with my court case, which is going to cut back on the amount that I can give to Nikki.
I’m so tired that I can barely filter my thoughts before speaking. Caught up in my train of thought, I muse aloud, “If I’m convicted, how is Nikki going to manage? We’re a team… Without my income and help, it’s going to be nearly impossible.”
Luca’s warm palm settles on my knee. “Phoebe,” he says, gently. “I can help.”
I look at him. His smoky-blue eyes look directly back at me.
I shake my head. “I can’t ask you to do that. I’m just tired… I’m saying everything that comes to mind without thinking it through.” I lick my lips. “I’m not saying all of this so that you’ll take pity on me. You traveled all this way, and you already posted bail for me. I can’t—”
He interrupts. “I want to help,” he says. “Please let me.”
The sincerity and strength of his voice catch me off guard. He’s being honest. He really does want to help me.
I’m speechless.
Thankfully, Luca speaks again. “I may not be able to influence the judicial system of the United States, but taking care of family is something that I know I can do. I’ll make a few calls first thing in the morning. Andy and Nicole will have all the help that they need.”
I turn to him, and without hesitation I wrap my arms around his neck. Though my mind might still be resisting his generous offer, my heart is overjoyed to hear his words.
“Thank you,” I say softly, my voice filled with emotion.
His arms circle my waist. He holds me for a minute. I feel our energies intertwine. Here in his arms, I’m safe.
When our embrace ends, my logical mind kicks into high gear. “Luca, this is all so much. How will I ever repay you?”
“I have just one request,” Luca says. “You’re always thinking about others, Phoebe. I see that about you. So here’s what you can do for me—you can allow me to take care of you. That’s what I want.”
Being cared for sounds so nice. Ever since I dropped out of college, Andy’s wellbeing has been at the forefront of my mind. Now that I’m facing challenges of my own, it’s hard to switch gears and admit that I’m the one who needs help. But Luca is right. I’m exhausted, and I do need help.
Reluctantly, I nod. “Okay,” I say. “I think I can do that.”
“Good,” Luca says, standing. “Because I have a plan.”
Chapter 14
Luca
After saying goodnight to Nicole, Phoebe and I make our way to my rental car, which is parked in the outside lot.
I open the car door for Phoebe, closing it after she is seated. I can see how tired she is. All I want to do is take care of her, to make her feel better.
I drive us into Center City, where I’ve booked a penthouse suite.
As I pull up in front of the hotel—one of the nicest in the city—the valet attendant approaches.
“Where are we?” Phoebe asks, her voice soft and sleepy. I think the blur of city lights has been lulling her to sleep. I’m sure she didn’t get any rest in jail last night, and I can understand why she’s disoriented.
“The Magnolia Resort and Spa,” I say. “I booked a room for us.”
The valet stands patiently beside Phoebe’s door, waiting to assist her once she opens it.
She looks at me, confused. “Oh, Luca! I should have told you. I have an apartment, over on the east side of the city. I can’t believe I forgot to mention it. I just assumed you were driving there. I have a pull-out couch. You can have my bed. I don’t mind the couch at all. Is it too late to cancel the room?”
I turn the keys in the ignition and the engine dies. The music stops. I grin at Phoebe.
“I’m not going to cancel our reservation,” I tell her. “Wait until you see this place. The pictures that I saw online were stunning. I promise you, you’re going to love it.”
“I’m sure I will,” Phoebe says, “But why stay here when I have a perfectly good apartment?”
“Because,” I say, “you promised to let me take care of you. This is how I’m going to do that. Okay?”
I can see that she wants to protest again, but she’s too tired. She opens the car door, allowing the valet attendant to help her out of the seat. I get out, too, and hand the attendant the car keys.
I take Phoebe’s hand, and together we walk into the expansive lobby. The polished marble floors reflect the glittering light of chandeliers that hang from the ceiling. Plush seating is arranged in clusters throughout the space, and classical music plays softly in the background.
Phoebe is quiet as I speak to the staff at the front desk. She remains reserved throughout the elevator ride up to the twenty-sixth floor, and she doesn’t say anything as we walk down the lavishly decorated hallway. But once we step into the penthouse suite and close the door behind us, a smile spreads across her lips.
“Luca!” she says in disbelief as her eyes rove over the suite’s interior. “Look at this place!”
“I told you,” I say with a soft chuckle.
The room is huge, and one wall is made up entirely of windows that look out over the glittering cityscape. A grand piano sits off to one side, and two overstuffed couches form an “L” on the other side of the room. I spot a bar next to the piano. Just past the seating area, there’s a gourmet kitchen complete with fresh flowers and a bowl of fruit on the marble countertops.
A spiral staircase leads up to the two bedrooms and a master bath that I saw pictures of when I booked the hotel online.
“Why don’t you have a seat on the couch?” I say to Phoebe. “Give me a few minutes upstairs, and then come up.”
Phoebe wanders over to the windows and looks out at the view. “Perfect,” she says dreamily. “I’ve never been so high up above the city. Look at it…”
As she stands at the windows, I hurry upstairs.
There’s a reason I asked for this suite in particular—I liked the pictures that I saw online of the large Jacuzzi bath.
Phoebe may not know it yet, but this bath is going to feel heavenly.
I run the water, checking the temperature to ensure that it’s perfect. Then I look through the various bottles of lotions, shampoos and shower gels until I find bubbles. I pour a dollop of the lavender bath oil into the steamy water, and then dim the bathroom lights.
Finally, I light a few candles and call down to Phoebe.
When she enters the bathroom, she looks stunned.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Phoebe, it’s that she’s used to taking care of everyone but herself. Being pampered and protected is so foreign to her, which makes it even more enjoyable for me to do. I love seeing the look in her eyes when I do something thoughtful.
It makes me feel like a better man.
I watch her expression shift from surprise to awe, her brows tenting upward as she transfers her gaze from the bubbling bath to me.
“How did you know this is exactly what I want to do right now?” she asks.
I chuckle. “It’s what I’d want to do, too, if I was in your place. I hope you like lavender?”
She nods. “I love it. It’s so relaxing.”
“I’ll give you a moment alone,” I say.
I leave the bathroom and make my way downstairs.
The bar is stocked with bottles of beer, water, and soda. I spot one of my favorite imported beers, a German brand, and open it. Then, standing in the same place that Phoebe had just moments before, I look down at the city. I sip my drink, and finally feel the events of the day catch up to me.
I’m going to be a father.
A sensation of intense contentment and peace comes over me. I know that this is what I want. It feels so right. Yes, there are complications—it is far from ideal that Phoebe is facing criminal charges. But a part of me is able to look past that, to a possible future that stretches out before Phoebe and me.
My parents loved each other. I remember knowing that at a young age. My mother always looked at my father with an expression of adoration, and my father treated her like the queen that she was. I never saw anything but complete respect and trust pass between them.
After losing my parents, I began to examine the relationships of other adults in my life, looking for that same mutual respect and love.
I soon learned that it was extremely rare. I saw so many couples that resented each other, and who fought constantly. I saw betrayals, power struggles, and even hatred between couples. I began to think that true love didn’t exist. The memory of my parents’ relationship faded, until I doubted that it ever existed in the first place.
But then I met Phoebe.
I smile and sip my beer. The city lights twinkle below. I recall the sensation that filled my body when I first saw her.
I was in awe of her, even before I knew one single thing about her. It was like somehow, my heart recognized her.
I’m sure I look at her now like my father looked at my mother: with complete and utter wonder.
She’s magnificent.
I wasn’t sure I’d ever meet a woman like her. But not only did I meet her, she’s also pregnant with my child.
I finish the beer and set the bottle down on a side table. Then I hike up the stairs and knock softly on the bathroom door.
Knowing that she’s here—so close to me, after all this time—is filling me with temptation. She may be enjoying the quiet after the ordeal she’s been through, but I want to see her so desperately that I have to risk interrupting her solitude.
“Luca?” she says, in response to my knock.
I open the door just a crack. “It’s me,” I say. “Can I come in?”
“Of course,” she says. “I was hoping you would.”
I enter the steamy, scented room. The candlelight flickers off of the mirrored walls. Phoebe is chin-deep in the bubbles. Her arm rests on one side of the tub, her wet hair piled on top of her head.
