37. Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Rib-Sauce, Renegades + a Backyard Blessing
Aspen
I’m exhausted. I’ve spent the last six hours at the Biddy Mason clinic, coordinating a back-to-school drive and administering vaccines to rows of nervous, wide-eyed kids.
The day was a marathon, but the donation from Dr. Diego Contreras and his foundation made it all possible.
Seeing those families leave with one less worry made every bit of my current backache worth it.
Lately, life has been a rush of high-speed motion.
Now that Luca doesn't need me as his full-time nurse, I’ve dived back into the deep end of my own career.
Between my concierge clients—including two of Luca’s teammates who are surprisingly high-maintenance—and running these clinics, I’m running on caffeine and pure adrenaline.
I haven’t even been able to indulge in my favorite yogurt these days.
Luca is back to his regular training schedule, and he’s even started coaching the Young Strikers in his downtime. It’s like we’re finally finding our rhythm, even if that rhythm is more Hip-Hop than R&B. Fast-paced. Loud. Perfectly in sync.
When I let myself into the penthouse, I’m expecting a quiet evening of takeout and a mixture of back and foot rubs. Instead, I’m greeted by the frantic sounds of gunfire and explosions echoing from the living room.
“Get him, Manny! On the left!” Croix’s voice booms.
I pause in the foyer, blinking at the scene. Luca and Croix are hunched on the edge of the sofa, flanking a kid I don’t recognize. The boy has his tongue poked out in pure concentration, mashing buttons on a controller with professional speed.
“Hey, babe,” Luca says, his eyes glued to the screen.
“Hey, Pen,” Croix adds, not even glancing up.
I just stand there for a second. Is this actually happening right now? “Hi?”
“Eros was running late after the Young Strikers practice, so I brought Manny home with us for a bit,” Luca explains. “Hope that’s alright, love.”
“Hi?” I repeat, still trying to process the sight.
“Croix came over to review game footage,” Luca continues, “but apparently, he couldn’t turn down a Call of Duty challenge from an eight-year-old.”
“So, husband?” I say wearily. “I’m going to go get cleaned up. When I return, would you mind telling me how our home became the scene of Daddy Daycare?”
Luca finally looks back, flashing a mischievous grin and a wink. “Whatever you like, my love. Welcome home.”
I chuckle, shaking my head, but then a scent hits me. It’s smoky, tangy, and dangerously familiar. My heart skips a beat as I turn toward the balcony.
“Uhh, Luca?”
“Yes, love?” he calls out.
“Is this...?”
My heart starts to race as I follow my nose toward the floor-to-ceiling glass doors leading out to the deck. That isn’t just any barbecue. I’d know my dad’s signature sauce anywhere.
I slide the door open, and there he is. My father, standing over a portable grill, looking more relaxed than I’ve seen him in years.
“Daddy?”
He looks up, a wide grin breaking across his face. “Hey, Penny.”
I don’t wait for another word. I dive in and give him the biggest hug. I’ve missed him. “What are you doing here?”
He just chuckles, flipping a rack of ribs as the sizzle punctuates his words.
“Thought it was about time I came down here and properly met this son-in-law of mine. Figured a little backyard barbecue was the best way to do it.” He leans in close, a conspiratorial wink crinkling the corners of his eyes.
“It’s about time I got out from under your mother’s thumb for a few hours, too.
Just don't tell her I’m making ribs, okay?
Let her think I grilled chicken or eggplant or something else she'd actually approve of.”
My smile is wide and genuine. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
But the levity only lasts a second before the weight of the last few months settles back onto my shoulders.
I step into his space, wrapping my arms around him and burying my face in his chest. “I’m so sorry, Dad,” I whisper.
The guilt of how I handled everything with the Vegas wedding, the radio silence, and the way I just cut them out all comes rushing back in a tidal wave.
“I should have called sooner. I should have done so many things differently.”
“Shh,” he says, patting my back with a heavy, steady hand. “None of that. Come here, let's talk.”
He leads me to the railing, both of us looking out over the sprawling Cinnamon Grove skyline.
My father and I rarely disagree. He’s always had my back, usually in the form of a quiet, steady approval.
The fact that he showed up here on his own, rather than waiting for me to make the first move, tells me how serious he is about this.
“I love you, Penny,” he says softly. “And I’m just so glad you’re happy. I spent an hour talking to that man inside before their game started. He’s a good man. He’s firm about his plans for you. About how he intends to take care of you. I can respect a man like that.”
I find myself smiling. A real, toothy grin.
I don’t think I’ve ever heard my father speak about a man that way regarding me.
To be fair, I haven't given him much opportunity since I rarely date, but I’ve never seen him take such a genuine, respect-driven interest in someone I was with.
It feels like a massive weight has been lifted, knowing the two most important men in my life have already found common ground.
I lean my head on his shoulder.
“Your mother…” Dad sighs, his gaze fixed on the bruised purples and oranges of the sunset. “I think she’s finally learned her lesson.”
I let out a sarcastic laugh. “Okay.”
“I mean it. She actually stepped back and let Morris’s wife plan his entire birthday party this year. No interference.”
I nearly choke on my own breath. “I don’t believe it! Not Mom.”
He shakes his head, a weary but genuine laugh bubbling up. “Believe it. She’s turning over a new leaf, or at least trying to find the tree. She’s been quiet these days. Reflective.”
Since Morris’s birthday usually falls right on Thanksgiving, my mother historically uses the double-holiday as an excuse to seize total control. To hear that she surrendered even an inch of that territory felt like a generational curse was breaking.
“I actually already had plans to meet with her this weekend,” I admit, feeling a sudden, strange surge of courage. “I think I’m finally ready to face her.”
“Good,” he says, his voice thick with emotion as he pulls me into one last, rib-crushing squeeze. He smells like charcoal smoke and the comforting, familiar scent of home. “She misses you, Penny. She’s just too stubborn to say it the right way yet.”
I pull back just enough to look through the glass doors.
Inside the penthouse, the glow of the TV illuminates a scene I never thought I’d see.
Luca and Croix…together. Luca is high-fiving Manny after a frantic victory, his face lit up with a messy, easy joy that makes him look younger, lighter.
He looks like a man who belongs exactly where he is.
He looks like a man I’m ready to call my forever.
I turn back to my dad, the secret warming me from the inside out. I reach out and grab his hand, my voice dropping to a shaky, conspiratorial whisper.
“I’ll keep a secret for you if you keep a secret for me?”
He tilts his head, his focus locking onto. “Anything.”
I glance back toward the apartment, where the guys are still in the middle of celebrating. I’d told Luca the second I knew this morning, but saying the words out loud to someone else makes all the more real.
“Don’t tell Mom you’re going to be a grandpa just yet, okay?” I let the words hang in the air, watching them land. “I want to be the one to deliver that particular gossip. See her face myself.”
My dad freezes, his hand tightening around mine as his eyes go wide, searching my face for the punchline. When he realizes I'm serious, his entire face transforms, and the lines of age and stress smooth out as a look of pure, unadulterated delight takes over.
He doesn’t say a word. He can’t. He just beams at me. He pulls me back into his arms, tucking my head under his chin, and for a long minute, we just stand there on the deck. My Daddy, his Penny, and my little peanut. Compliments of the Chillmonger.
My dad kisses me on my forehead and then chuckles. “But your mother will have my head if I don’t tell you to bring that boy to church on Sunday.”
I laugh. “Okay, daddy. I will.”