17. Luca
Luca
The kitchen is still carrying the remains of breakfast even though the children left with Nicholas fifteen minutes ago.
Rosalie’s spoon rests beside a plate containing one bite of toast, Samuel’s dinosaur lies beneath the table, and strips of tape cling to James’s chair from another attempt to repair his paper roof.
I stand at the counter slipping Samuel’s abandoned things into my bag while Luther holds Blake against him near the coffee machine.
One of Luther’s hands is spread over Blake’s stomach, keeping him tucked against his chest while Blake scrolls through a message with one thumb.
Luther reaches around him for the coffee without loosening his hold.
Grayson comes up behind me while I’m watching them. His arms settle around my waist, and his mouth presses against the back of my head as his chest begins shaking with a laugh he’s trying to keep quiet.
“See something you like?” he murmurs into my hair. “You were watching for a while.”
I twist my ring beneath his fingers and watch Luther reach around Blake for the coffee mug sitting beside his phone. I twist my ring beneath Grayson’s fingers and watch Luther reach around Blake for the coffee mug beside his phone. “I was being supportive.”
Grayson’s shoulders shake harder against my back, but he manages not to laugh aloud. The children have only been gone for fifteen minutes, and the kitchen still looks as though they might rush back through the door to continue breakfast.
Last night had looked less domestic. Less than ten minutes after the children finally stopped asking for water, another story, and confirmation that the hallway light would remain on, I walked past the bedroom and found Luther fucking Blake against the wall.
Blake had one hand fisted in Luther’s shirt and the other braced above his head while he tried to keep his voice low enough not to carry toward the children’s rooms.
Luther looked over Blake’s shoulder when he noticed me. He didn’t stop or pretend they wanted privacy. His mouth curved into a slow grin as he drove into Blake again, openly showing off the way Blake came apart beneath him.
I stayed in the doorway long enough to appreciate the view before Grayson found me there and joined me.
The hand Luther keeps on Blake this morning is quieter, but it carries the same change.
He’s been reaching for us more often instead of waiting for one of us to come to him first. Blake leans back against him without pausing whatever he’s reading, and Luther lowers his mouth to the side of Blake’s neck as though touching him has become as ordinary as pouring coffee.
Grayson moves one hand from my waist and reaches for Samuel’s dinosaur with his foot, dragging it close enough to pick up without releasing me. “Do you think this belongs in his room or your bag?”
“My bag,” I answer, holding it open while he drops the dinosaur inside. “He’ll remember it exists as soon as we’re halfway to Ember House.”
Luther finally glances toward us, his expression too satisfied for someone who knows exactly what we were discussing. Blake follows his attention and looks between my face and Grayson’s mouth against my hair.
“You two are being suspiciously quiet,” Blake says, placing his phone on the counter while Luther’s fingers move beneath the hem of his shirt.
Grayson kisses the back of my head one more time before letting me go. “We’re trying to preserve the children’s innocence.”
Blake’s eyebrows rise, and Luther’s grin returns, but the sound of my phone vibrating against the table interrupts whatever answer either of them might offer. Oliver’s name fills the screen above a row of messages I still haven’t opened.
I take the call while Grayson begins gathering the remains of breakfast. Luther carries Blake’s coffee to the table and waits until Blake sits before placing it within reach. Their shoulders remain pressed together while I move toward the window and answer.
Oliver’s face appears too close to the camera for several seconds before he shifts the phone back. A stack of fabric samples covers the table behind him, along with several folders and what looks like part of a floral arrangement. “Before you apologize, I’m rejecting it.”
“I haven’t said anything yet.” I rest one hip against the counter while the unread wedding messages wait behind his face on the screen.
“You answered after the fourth ring and immediately started touching your ring. You were about to apologize.”
I glance toward Grayson, who’s scraping Rosalie’s untouched toast into the compost container. He gives me a small nod without joining the call.
“My head’s been everywhere,” I admit. “I haven’t answered the messages about the flowers, and I still haven’t looked at the revised invitation list. I know we’re running out of time.”
Oliver shifts several fabric samples aside and settles his elbows on the cleared section of the table.
He doesn’t tell me I shouldn’t feel guilty or start listing reasons I’ve been distracted.
“Then we’re changing how we do this. I’ll come to you with everything from now on.
Flowers, chairs, invitations, food, and whatever fresh demand Rosalie has made regarding the cake. You only have to say yes or no.”
Something crashes beyond the edge of his screen. Lorenzo shouts Barty’s name from another room, followed by Wilson demanding that the dog drop whatever he has in his mouth.
Oliver closes his eyes briefly. “Give me one second.”
The phone shifts toward the ceiling while hurried footsteps cross behind him.
I hear Lorenzo arguing that Barty stole the ribbon from the centerpiece, Wilson insisting that the ribbon shouldn’t have been left within reach, and Oliver telling both of them that assigning blame won’t remove it from the dog.
Grayson covers his mouth with the back of his hand while Luther lowers his face against Blake’s shoulder. Blake doesn’t bother hiding his smile.
Oliver returns with his hair falling over one eye and the remains of a silver ribbon looped around his wrist. Barty continues making excited noises somewhere beyond the camera while Lorenzo and Wilson argue over who’s going to retrieve the rest of the centerpiece.
“The situation has been contained. Well... he’s being negotiated with.
” Oliver pulls the fabric samples back into view and taps the top one.
“I meant what I said. I’ll bring you the decisions.
You don’t have to keep the entire wedding in your head while everything else is happening. ”
The pressure in my chest eases enough for me to stop turning my ring. “Okay. Yes or no.”
“That’s all I need.” He slides two samples apart and holds them near the camera. “These are for the table linens, but you don’t have to decide now. I’ll bring them to Ember House tomorrow.”
Lorenzo calls for him again, and Oliver looks over his shoulder before returning his attention to me. “I have to stop Barty from becoming part of the décor. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I tell him goodbye and end the call before another crash can reach us.
When I lower the phone, Blake is still tucked against Luther at the table, and Grayson has moved to my side with Samuel’s abandoned sock dangling from one finger.
He slips it into the outside pocket of my bag and presses his mouth against my temple.
“Oliver’s bringing everything to Ember House tomorrow,” I tell him. “Apparently, I only have to say yes or no now.”
“Is that a good thing?” Grayson keeps his mouth against my skin for another second, waiting until I nod. “Good. Let him carry it.”
The morning carries us out of the kitchen before I can stand there and think about it too long. Luther and Blake leave for Keller Industries, while Grayson and I meet Maceo at Ember House to review the revised staff assignments and the next phase of the expansion schedule.
The children are spending the morning with Nicholas, though their presence follows us through the building in the things they’ve left behind.
A purple crayon rolls from beneath the passenger seat when Grayson brakes, and I find one of Rosalie’s folded wedding drawings tucked into the notebook I carry into the meeting.
By the time the final staff member leaves my office, the afternoon light has shifted across the windows and the table is covered with schedules, security notes, and expansion revisions.
Blossom has redistributed unsupervised intake duties without alerting anyone to the investigation, while Grayson has arranged security close enough to respond without placing strangers in the common areas.
Maceo closes the final folder and rests both hands over it. “The revised access report will come through tonight. Until then, nothing has changed on her work account.”
Grayson collects the empty coffee cups from the edge of the desk while I stare at the place where Alastair sat during his first visit.
The chair is ordinary. Someone has moved it since then, and Blossom left a stack of resident-council surveys on its seat, but I can still picture him there with his calm questions and careful interest.
I try to tell Maceo that Oliver has taken over the wedding decisions. The sentence starts clearly enough, but I lose it somewhere between the invitation list and the way Alastair looked at the expansion renderings.
Maceo watches me begin again without prompting me. His glasses rest lower on his nose after hours of reading, and fatigue pulls at the corners of his eyes, but his attention doesn’t leave my face.
I reach across the space between us, catch both of his wrists, and pull his arms away from his body.
His eyebrows lift, though he lets me turn and settle sideways across his thighs before I arrange his arms where I want them.
One closes beneath my legs while the other wraps firmly around my waist, drawing me against his chest.