Chapter 13 Anna
ANNA
My story was practically writing itself.
Each keystroke brought the reluctant superhero to life. A man torn between the safety of his disguise and the risk of revealing his true self. It was clever, it was cunning, it had depth. This story felt like it could be something big.
And the truth? Luke Fisher was my muse.
There. I said it. I wasn’t proud of it, but there it was.
Every smirk, every infuriating comment, every moment he seemed almost real—that’s what fueled my creativity.
He was the blueprint for the complicated, charming disaster I was pouring into my pages.
It was like he’d stepped out of the story and into my life, bringing both inspiration and chaos in equal measure.
And that was why it was so unfortunate that I’d told him I wouldn’t show him around New Orleans. I’d slammed the door on any possibility of spending more time together.
We’d agreed to part ways, and in my heart, I knew it was the right call. He was spoiled, a wealthy playboy with an ego bigger than the mansion he was staying in. He wasn’t the kind of person who stuck around, and I wasn’t the kind of person who wasted time on someone like him.
Still, I couldn’t shake the memory of the way he’d looked at me the night before outside Muses. His look was intense, almost like I was the only person in the world. It lingered in my mind, sending an unexpected warmth curling through me, the flicker of a spark I wasn’t ready to acknowledge.
My thoughts were interrupted by the ringing doorbell. My young cousins Therese and Amelia burst inside, followed by their mother, my cousin Lucy. “Aunt Anna,” the girls yelled, flinging themselves at me.
“Hey, you two,” I said, kissing the tops of their heads.
“Thank you so much for watching the girls while I shop,” Lucy said.
She set a bag down on the counter, giving the room a once-over before raising an eyebrow at me.
“You know, having to announce myself at the gates of this place makes me feel like I’m visiting Buckingham Palace. Should I have worn a fascinator?”
I snorted. “You in a fancy, stuffy hat, a la Audrey Hepburn in My Fair Lady? Now that I’d pay to see.”
She grinned. “How’s mansion life treating you, Your Highness?”
I shrugged, trying to sound casual. “It’s convenient. Close to Muses.”
“Mmm.” She dragged the word out like she didn’t believe a word I was saying. “So, do you ever go into the main house? Or is that off-limits?”
I avoided her eyes, suddenly very interested in rearranging the pastries she brought. “Someone’s staying there. I haven’t been inside.”
Lucy didn’t say anything for a beat. Then she leaned against the counter, arms folded, her expression amused.
“Wait. Is this one of those situations? Like... a mysterious stranger in the big house? You catch glimpses of him swimming shirtless in the pool while dramatic cello music plays in the background?”
“What? No.” My voice cracked, which didn’t help my case. “That’s ridiculous.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh my gosh. There is someone. You’re blushing right now.”
“I’m not.”
“You so are.” She pointed at me like she’d won a game. “Anna, what are you not telling me?”
I sighed. There was no keeping anything from Lucy. “Fine. I met the guy staying in the main house. He’s charming and handsome, but he’s also a ladies’ man. And spoiled.”
“What’s spoiled?” six-year-old Amelia asked, tugging on my sleeve.
“It means he gets everything he wants,” I replied.
Therese, four years old, bounced on her toes. “I want to be spoiled.”
Lucy grinned. “So, is this mystery man good-looking?”
I snorted. “He might be too good-looking. Like ‘People Magazine’s Sexiest Man,’ good-looking.”
Lucy gave me a playful shove. “What’s the problem?”
“The problem is that I don’t have time to get involved with anyone. I’m making progress on my writing, and that’s what matters.”
Lucy wagged a finger at me. “Don’t ignore romantic possibilities. This could be like a rom-com. You, the hardworking writer, and him, the—what is he again? A secret prince?”
“Luce, this is real life, not the Hallmark Channel. Don’t you have shopping to do?”
“Fine.” She grabbed her purse. “Girls, be good for Auntie Anna. I’ll be back in an hour.”
After she left, the girls kept me busy with books and games for about half an hour, until the doorbell rang again. Expecting Lucy, I swung the door open. “Wow, that was the shortest—oh, it’s you.”
Luke stood there, looking sheepish and entirely out of place. My heart skipped a beat. “The shortest what?” he asked, tilting his head.
I swallowed hard. “I thought you were my cousin.”
He nodded. “I brought your purple hoodie.”
I waved a hand dismissively. “You didn’t have to do that. It’s way too big for me, anyway. I just kept it at Muses in case I got cold, but I never wear it. Pretty sure it’s stained from when a customer spilled a rum and Coke on me.”
“Well, if that’s the case, maybe I’ll keep it. It’s surprisingly comfortable.”
The way he said it, so casual and self-assured, made it hard not to smile. This was the Luke Fisher who made romantic gestures look easy on film, the same Luke who could turn wearing a lavender hoodie into an effortlessly cool moment. And, annoyingly, he knew it.
“By all means.” I assumed he had to be joking. “Consider it a gift. You’ll be the most stylish guy at your next movie premiere.”
“Obviously.” The corner of his mouth twitched.
Before I could respond, the girls peeked out from behind me. “Who are you?” Therese asked.
“I’m Luke.” He crouched to their level with a warm smile that seemed genuine. “I stay in the big house over there.”
“Are you the president?” Amelia asked, her wide eyes sparkling with innocent curiosity.
“No, but I have been to the Oval Office.”
I folded my arms, giving him a skeptical once-over. “Oh?”
He straightened up with an air of exaggerated nonchalance, as if he hadn’t just dropped that bomb casually. “Yeah, for a movie. The Terrorist. Played a Secret Service agent. Maybe you’ve seen it?”
I mean, everyone had seen it. It had been one of the highest-grossing films of last year, and his chiseled jawline had been plastered on billboards from here to Tokyo.
And yet, there he was, standing on my doorstep, larger than life, as if he’d stepped out of one of the very scenes I’d been writing all morning. The irony wasn’t lost on me. I’d been trying to envision him while working on my story, and now, here he was in the flesh.
He hesitated, his gaze steady, and was that sincerity I saw there? “In addition to returning your hoodie, I wanted to thank you. For yesterday.”
“It’s no problem. It’s my job.”
He frowned, tilting his head slightly. “It’s your job to rescue people who get trapped by bachelorette parties?”
“Uh, yeah. Happens all the time.”
He nodded slowly, as if sincerely trying to decide whether I was serious or not. Then, he flashed his signature lopsided grin, the one that made women across the world swoon. It was the kind of grin that made you feel like you were the only person in the room, even if you were in a crowded theater.
Just then, Amelia tugged on my sleeve, her small voice cutting through the silence. “Aunt Anna, is he going to read with us?” Her wide eyes brimmed with excitement.
Therese piped up before I could respond, bouncing on her toes. “Auntie Anna does all the voices. Can you do voices, too?”
I hesitated, glancing at Luke. There was no way he’d say yes, right? He was Luke Fisher, the guy whose face was plastered on billboards and magazines, not someone who’d willingly dive into a Seuss performance for a couple of kids.
“Oh, no, he doesn’t have time for—”
“I might have just enough time.” Luke arched his eyebrow, and an amused grin tugged at his lips. “What story are you reading?”
Amelia held up the book as if it were a golden ticket. “The Cat in the Hat. And Auntie Anna makes it really funny.”
Therese nodded eagerly. “You can be the cat.”
The girls were already grabbing his hands and tugging him toward the couch.
I stood there, frozen, unsure if I should intervene or just let it happen.
Luke Fisher, movie star, sitting on my couch, reading Dr. Seuss?
The absurdity of the situation hit me like a tidal wave.
He cleared his throat like he was about to perform on Broadway.
“Well,” he said, flipping to the first page, “I hope you’re ready for the greatest rendition of the Cat you’ve ever heard.”
I stood back, arms on my hips, watching him. He was good at this. And not just at making the girls laugh, though he had them in the palm of his hand. No, what struck me was how at ease he seemed, as though he had dropped some charade that he was always playing at.
He glanced up mid-sentence, his eyes meeting mine, and there was something almost proud in his expression, like he was enjoying the chaos he was creating. How could someone like him, someone so polished and untouchable, look so completely comfortable in this little slice of my world?
Holding the book high like it was a sacred text, he intoned dramatically, “I have some tricks. Very good tricks. And your aunt? She’ll be totally fine with it.”
Amelia shot her hand up like a tiny crossing guard. “That is not what it says.”
Luke blinked, pure innocence. “It’s not?”
“No,” she giggled, lunging to take the book. “It says Mom. Not aunt.”
He tapped the page, squinting like a scholar. “Hmm. Are you sure? M-O-M... that looks like Aunt to me.”
Amelia collapsed into laughter. “That spells mom. MOM!”
“Well,” Luke said, shrugging with mock gravitas, “maybe you’re right. You are very smart. How old are you again?”
“I’m six,” she declared proudly, puffing up like she’d just won a spelling bee. “How old are you?”
“Six? That explains everything,” he said, nodding solemnly. “I’m thirty.”
Not to be outdone, Therese climbed into his lap and grabbed his face with both hands. “You have to keep reading,” she ordered, her voice full of fire and four-year-old authority.