I tuck my chin. “You’re right. I do.” I shake my head. “But I can’t explain it any better than I already have.”
His brow screws up into a frown. “Let me see if I’ve got it straight.” He’s been holding my hand with his left, but he swaps it now, covering it in his right so he can prop up on his elbow and peer down at me. “You’re attracted to me.” When he says this, he squeezes my hand, and a shower of invisible sparks soar up my arm and go off like Roman candles in my heart.
“Yes,” I manage, my mouth going dry.
“And I’m attracted to you.”
The Roman candles go forth and multiply.
I lick my lips. “Okay…” Because what else am I going to say to that?
“But you can’t handle a relationship because Emmett, Mattie, and Harry come first right now.”
“Yes…” I hope he can hear the disappointment in my voice, because I sure can. “It’s a little more complicated than that, but in a nutshell, yes.”
He nods. “I agree they come first. They’re just kids, and they’re your family...”
The Roman candles turn into beeswax candles and start to melt. Everything inside me—my heart, my resolve, my defenses—threaten to melt too. Why does he have to be so awesome? It would be so much easier if he were just some hot jerk.
But I can’t even imagine him as a jerk. He’s wonderful. So wonderful, he should be taken already. Married, for Christ’s sake. And, wow, it’s really easy to imagine Luc Valencia married. So easy, I immediately want to punch his imaginary wife in the boob. I really don’t like the idea of Luc being married.
“And I can’t help but— Why are you breathing like that? You all right?”
I’m panting. I stop and try breathing normally. “Um…” I can’t tell him I’m psyching myself up to tit-punch his imaginary wife. That’s a little crazy. Even for me. “Sorry… I’m listening.”
His eyes run over me for a second, maybe making sure I’m not about to pass out or succumb to an asthma attack. “What I’m saying is I’m okay with that. More than okay.”
“That’s great, but—”
He squeezes my hand. “Let me see you. We both want to. We both agree the kids come first. And if the last few days have shown me anything, it’s that there’s room.” He smiles and those blasted dimples come out.
“Room?” I don’t understand what he’s saying, but it might be the dimples.
“Room in your life for me.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
MILLIE
Oh, shit.
I just fell in love with Luc Valencia.
The truth of it hits me right between the eyes. More like a racquetball than a bullet. As though I should have seen it coming. It leaves me with the absurd urge to laugh.
The beginnings of a laugh escape me, and then I bite my bottom lip, trapping the whole of it—all of this inconvenient, irresponsible, sweeter-than-life love—before it can wriggle free. I can’t let this out.
If things were different, yes. Of course. I’d set it free. I’d give it to him with both hands. No regrets.
Room for him in my life? If things were different, I’d assign him his own zip code.
But things aren’t different. So this feeling must stay behind the lines, within my skin, inside my lips, deep down in my chest, folded into a box that beats the rhythm of my heart.
“Why do you look so terrified?”
I swallow. “It’s complicated.”
“Try me.”
I sigh, but I don’t try to pull away. I want to keep touching him. Keep looking at him. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
The left side of his mouth curls up in amusement. “Like I said, try me.”
I put my thumbnail between my teeth and chomp thoughtfully. Saying it out loud just sounds so stupid.
Chomp. Chomp. “What if I told you I was cursed?”
Luc sniffs, and his eyes narrow just a little. “What do you mean? Who cursed you?”
Who? I never thought to wonder about a who. Maybe no one. Maybe this is just the way things are for me and mine.
“Maybe cursed isn’t the right word. Maybe doomed is better. What if I told you I was doomed?”
“Doomed? That sounds worse than cursed. What are you talking about?” Concern pulls his brows together. “Does this have anything to do with your parents?”
I shrug. “Well, yes, actually.”
Shock ripples over his face. “With what happened to them? Did someone sink their boat? Are you in danger?”
I lay a hand on his chest, shaking my head, suddenly—and inappropriately—laughing. “No, no. Nothing like that.”
He arches a brow. “Because where my family comes from, when you say cursed and doomed, there’s a good chance the cartel is involved.”
“Oh. No, okay. Maybe I’m using the wrong words. Fated. Destined… Conditioned. I don’t know,” I say, flapping my hand in frustration. “But I’m powerless against it.”
“Against what?”
I press my knuckles against my mouth because saying it is so awkward. “Getting knocked up.”
His brows fly up. “Excuse me?”
I cover my face since he’s looking at me like I’m insane. What else would he do?
“I told you you wouldn’t believe me,” I moan behind my hands.
“Millie.” He grips my wrists and tugs gently, but I keep my palms to my face. “It’s not that I don’t believe you. I don’t understand.” The way he stresses the word makes it sound less judgmental. More like he really wants to understand.
I find the courage to lower my hands. Just enough to peek at him over my fingertips. Luc is watching me, eyes alert, curious. I see nothing in his posture that suggests he wants to pull away.
In fact, he’s leaning in.
Maybe he really does want to understand.
I bite my lip. “The bottom line is… birth control doesn’t work on me.”
Luc frowns, blinking. “You mean you can’t take the Pill?”
“Oh, I take it,” I clarify. Without the Pill, my cramps are pretty bad, but Luc doesn’t need to know that. “It just doesn’t work.”
“So, you have to use something else? Like condoms?” He shrugs like this is no big deal. Carter hated using condoms. Not that they did us much good.
I sniff a laugh. “Those don’t work either.”
Luc shrugs. “I know their only like seventy-percent effective, but with something else—”
“Nothing works. Not for me. Not for the women in my family.”
Luc stares at me. Not like I’m crazy, but like I’m not making any sense.
“Luc, my parents had four kids. None of them were planned,” I explain. “My grandmother—my mom’s mom—had six kids. My great-grandmother had seven. All three of them went to the altar pregnant.”
He looks unimpressed. “A lot of people go to the altar pregnant. Aunt Lucinda did. My cousins tease her about it all the time,” he says with a grin. “And she has four kids just like your mom did. That’s a typical Catholic family.”
“We’re not Catholic,” I say flatly. “We’re freaks of nature.”
He chuckles, shaking the trampoline. “You’re so funny.”
“I’m not kidding, Luc. This isn’t a joke.” I roll onto my back, exasperated. “I’m trying to tell you why I can’t be with you. Why I can’t be with anyone.”
I’ve kept my voice low, but I glance over at the kids to make sure they haven’t heard this. Luckily, they’re still completely enthralled in their soccer game.
Luc tucks his finger under my chin and turns me back to face him. His dark eyes are serious, soulful, yet one corner of his mouth teases up a little.
“I know you’re not joking. It doesn’t mean you aren’t funny.” His smile fades. “Tell me more.”
“There isn’t more. I just can’t be with you.” This isn’t true. There’s a lot more, but I don’t want to go through it right now.
And I don’t want to live throug
h it again. Ever.
I swallow against the lump that rises in my throat. Nope. Not going there. Not today.
“No.” Luc shakes his head. “That’s not enough.”
I screw up my face. “What’s not enough?”
“That’s not enough of an explanation.”
I’m pretty sure my eyebrows shoot to my hairline. “Not enough?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “You want to be with me?”
My mouth opens and the truth plops out. “Y-yes.”
He nods. “You know I want to be with you?”
I bite my lip, feeling a thrill of nerves in my stomach. But I do know. He’s made that very clear. “Yes.”
Luc clasps my hand. “What you’re afraid of? It could happen to anybody.”
I squeeze his hand. “But that’s what I’m trying to explain. For other people, it could happen. For me, it will happen.”
“Millie.” He says my name gently, but, make no mistake about it, condescendingly. Les Dimples show up, and for the first time since I met him, the sight of them doesn’t turn me to goo. In fact, I’m pretty close to punching him in the face.
I pull my hand from his and make a fist, but I don’t pound him with it. “You don’t understand. Luc, my parents had Emmett five years after my dad’s vasectomy.”
“Really?!” Luc’s eyes are wide, but instead of looking horrified, he looks… fascinated.
I shake my head. “In 1968, my great Aunt Maureen flew to the Philippines to see my Uncle Brian who was serving in Vietnam. He had a three-day leave, but there was a typhoon and Maureen’s flight from Hong Kong was cancelled, and she only made it to Manila to see him right before he had to report back for duty.” I clutch Luc’s collar and give it a little shake to make sure he’s listening. “They spent thirty minutes together. Thirty minutes. Nine months later, my mom’s cousins Bradley and Bernard were born.”
Luc blinks, his dimples digging deeper. “That must have been some thirty minutes.”
I thump his chest with the side of my fist. “You don’t get what I’m telling you. This thing,” I say, waving my hand up and down to indicate my general reproductive system, “defies all logic and limits of medical science. That’s why I call it a curse.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “So, solitude and celibacy are your only options?”
I go still because I really hate that those are my only options. “Right now they are.”
Luc’s lips bunch and he nods, slowly, like he’s assessing me. “Until when?”
“Until Emmett’s grown,” I say with a shrug.
He nods again. “That’s the first thing you’ve said that sounds crazy.”
“Pfft.” I give his shoulder a little shove. “You mean to say you don’t think the Theory of the Curse is crazy?”
Luc traps my assaulting hand and holds it against his chest. Through his dress shirt, I can feel the steady thump of his heart. “It’s wild.” The way he says it, wild sounds leagues better than crazy. “It’s incredible, but I believe you. At least, I believe what you’re telling me about this phenomenon in your family. I don’t necessarily agree it’s a curse.”
His belief surprises me so much, I’m speechless at first. “Why not?”
“Well, who cursed you?”
“Huh?”
Les Dimples emerge. “A curse implies malicious intent. Did one of your ancestors offend a bruja?”
“A bru-ha?”
His laughter shakes us again. “A bruja is a witch. You said your mother’s side of the family is Irish. Did your great-great-great granny slight a fairy or something?”
“Um, no. You’re right. Maybe curse is too strong a word.” I give him the side-eye. “What would you call it?”
Luc presses his lips together, considering. “Uh… superpower?” He grins.
“Superpower,” I echo, unamused. “Now you’re making fun of me.” I try to pull away.
He chuckles but shakes his head. “No, I’m not.” He squeezes my wrist, keeping my hand against his chest. “You said your family’s productivity defied all logic and limits of science. Sounds like Spiderman.”
I snort. “Sounds like that Mother Goose rhyme.”
His face goes blank and then—”The old woman who lived in a shoe?”
“A shoe!” I bemoan, throwing up my hands. “She had so many kids, and they lived a frickin’ shoe! Why?”
Luc loses it. He laughs like I’ve never seen him laugh before. Red-faced. Eyes squeezed shut. Gasping for breath. He rolls onto his back, and because my hand is still trapped, I roll too. Half on top of him.
Everything about it is amazing. He is at least nine kinds of beautiful. And the way he feels? Twelve kinds of aaah!
This is way too close. Way too much. Because all I want to do is shift to the left so I’ll be all the way on top of him. I prop myself up on my right elbow to gain a little distance. Luc’s chest heaves, his lungs recovering. His curling lashes are wet with laughter’s tears.
Did I say just nine kinds of beautiful? I must have miscounted. It’s thirty, easy.
God, I love making him laugh.
His eyes lock with mine. He reaches up and sweeps my hair over my shoulder. “Come home with me tonight.”
The world goes still.
Say yes. Just say yes, the wild part of me begs.
I draw in my bottom lip. “You know I can’t do that.”
His eyelids lower. “You can. The kids will be fine. I’ll have you home before they wake up. I promise.”
“Did you hear anything I just said?”
“I heard everything you said.” He licks his lips, and I’m mesmerized. “Nothing you said meant that you can’t come over.”
“Wh-what?” Shocked laughter shakes from me.
Luc’s hand curls around the back of my neck, and his thumb strokes the edge of my jaw. “Millie,” he says gently, his voice softening. “You’re a virgin. I don’t have any expectations.”
A jolt runs through me.
A virgin?
“What?”
“It’s okay,” Luc says, his thumb tracing the shell of my ear. “I mean it. I just want to be with you.”
His touch is a dangerous distraction, but I manage to shake my head. “Luc, what makes you think I’m a virgin?”
He keeps up the gentle caress, but his eyes narrow. “Well, you didn’t have to come out and say it,” he says, smiling easily. “Everything you said. About your mother and your grandmother and your great-grandmother all going to the altar embarazada. And you’re not—”
Luc’s thumb stills. His gaze sharpens.
My heart trips over its own beat and kicks into a gallop. Yet I know the blood must drain from my face.
“Millie.” His eyes go darker than I’ve ever seen. “What happened?”
My lungs fold in on themselves like an accordion. I glance back at the kids, still playing and then at the house, still full of Luc’s family.
“Not here,” I rasp, my throat conspiring against me even worse than it did when I was in the throes of strep.
With eyes as dark as midnight, Luc gives one sharp nod. “Time to go.”
I don’t argue. I can’t argue.
He springs up and takes my hand, steadying me as we leave the trampoline. As we descend, Emmett and Harry streak past us, arms raised, clearly triumphant. Alex and Mattie, obviously not the victors, brace hands on knees to catch their breath. All four of them are beaming.
Luc claps for their attention. “Schedule your rematch because it’s time to go.”
“Awww!” Emmett’s voice wavers with protest.
“But… we—” Alex tries, breathless.
“Do we… really have… to go?” Mattie pants, looking crushed.
I can’t bring myself to answer, so I merely nod.
“Your sister has been sick,” Luc says before pointing to Emmett. “And so have you. We should probably call it a day.”
“But I feel fine,” Emmett argues, moping.
“A
nd we’re not sick,” Harry says, gesturing between himself and his twin.
Luc turns up his hands, smiling. “And thank goodness for that.” Then he hooks his thumb toward the house, ignoring their protests. “Let’s get going.”
The kids are poised to grumble, but unlike when they disagree with me, they hold back. Even Alex, who looks resigned. I don’t really know how Luc did it, but I might need him to teach me.
Inside, it takes a good ten minutes to say our goodbyes. Nezzie refuses to let us leave until each of us is carrying some kind of leftover. I shamelessly accept everything she offers. The kids loved the food, and the haul will save us from takeout for at least two nights.
When we approach Luc’s truck, no one tries to call shotgun, which surprises me, but what happens when we pull into our driveway surprises me even more.
“Who wants to earn fifty bucks?” Luc asks, throwing the truck in park but not killing the engine.
The kids nearly shed their skins in their haste to respond, all shouting “Me!”
I narrow my eyes at Luc. He stays my hand before I can push the release button on my seatbelt.
“Good, because I have jobs for all of you.” He has been addressing them in the rearview mirror, but now he turns around to face them, claiming their full attention. “All three of you are going to put this food in the refrigerator. Emmett, you’re going to let Clarence out, and then at five-thirty, you’re going to feed him dinner.”
I glance at the clock on the display. It’s a little after four now. When did it get so late?
“Harry, you’re going to lock the doors now and after anytime Clarence goes out. Mattie, you are going to find something—inside—for the three of you to do. A game. A movie. You decide, but all three of you have to enjoy it together. No one gets to hide in their rooms—”
“But—” Harry starts, and Luc raises a hand to silence him.
“Fifty bucks. I’m not paying good money for nothing.” He looks at each of them in turn. All three of their mouths stay shut. “Emmett, you need to take your medicine before dinner, and each one of you needs to eat a real dinner before you can have any of the leftover desserts.”
Emmett blinks, his wheels clearly turning. “Where are you going to be?”
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