16. Brooklyn
brOOKLYN
The first step toward finding out if what’s between me and Luka is real?
Going on A Real Live Date.
I’m about to surprise the hell out of my husband.
Considering that he’d had such a rough time with Monica on the Maxilene shoot and an even rougher time going back to the DRM offices—getting hit with an overstuffed inbox and an avalanche of contracts and phone calls to catch up on—I figure a quiet, candlelit dinner at home is exactly what Luka needs.
I can’t wait to see the look on his face when he walks in the door exhausted and stressed, only to find the table laid out perfectly, soft music playing in the background, me greeting him in a flouncy dress with a glass of wine freshly poured for him.
Originally I’d thought we could go out for a classic Dinner and a Movie, but when I called Emzee to ask about Luka’s favorite restaurants, she pointed out the fact that if we went to any of the pricy places that Luka liked best, we’d probably be tailed by paparazzi all night.
“But maybe you guys could go in disguise?” she’d suggested, only half kidding.
The more I considered it, though, the more I found myself leaning toward a nice, quiet night in our own living room—low-key and relaxed, with no interruptions. Plus, if our “first date” went well, and we were feeling frolicsome, the master bedroom would be steps away.
So here I am now, going over the top arranging the takeout food I ordered from the amazing Italian deli a few blocks away.
There’s a comedy special on Netflix tonight that Luka and I had talked about watching, so the TV is all queued up and the food’s spread out on the coffee table.
We’ve got a stack of assorted sub sandwiches, a crisp Caesar salad freshly tossed in a crystal bowl (that I’m guessing is probably meant to be used for punch, but fancy times call for fancy measures), and thick-cut French fries under a metal dish cover to keep them warm.
I even put the ketchup in a dish with a sprig of parsley, which I hope Luka finds as amusing as I do.
Emzee stopped by earlier to pick up Mr. Kibbles so that we’d have the whole penthouse to ourselves, but I can’t help wishing the dog were here right now to wag his tail and beg for bits of salami.
Curling up on the couch with Luka and Kibby has quickly become my favorite evening activity.
I’m guessing the dog would happily knock over the taper candles on his way to attack the sandwiches, though, so it’s probably for the best that he’s at a sitter’s.
What else? Apartment tidy, cheesecake in the fridge, comfy throw blanket over the back of the couch in case we want to snuggle. The candles are set up and waiting to be lit, the wine is ready to be uncorked, the Pandora station is set to smooth jazz. Everything looks just right.
Suddenly, it hits me: looking around our place, I realize how happy I am to be here. Vegas was spontaneous and fun, but when I came home from the airport with Luka, it was the first time in forever that I could remember walking in the door and feeling like I truly belonged in this space.
Satisfied that date night is locked and loaded, I go into the bedroom to change.
My dress is simple but has a bohemian vibe, with straps that tie into little bows over my shoulders and a long, swishy skirt.
It’s as comfortable as a nightgown, and Luka appreciates how transparent the sheer cotton is.
I put my hair into a loose braid and slip on some gold hoop earrings, leaving my feet bare.
God, this is so much better than a fussy night out wearing heels and a mini-dress.
When I check my reflection in the bathroom mirror, I could swear I’m almost glowing.
Luka still won’t be home for another hour or two, so I flop down on the couch and start scrolling through my Insta feed. Suddenly, my phone rings in my hand. It’s my husband.
“Hey, what’s up?” I say, hoping that he’s not calling to say he’ll be working late again.
“Be ready for me down in the lobby in fifteen minutes. And dress warm.”
I’m sitting straight up now. “What? Why?”
“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise, Brooklyn,” he teases. “See you soon.”
He hangs up and I stare at my phone, wondering what he’s up to.
Letting out a giddy little laugh, I put the food in the fridge and run to my room to change into jeans and a long-sleeve shirt, even though it’s still plenty warm out.
Since I have no idea what exactly he’s planned, I borrow one of his hoodies to bring with me just in case we end up in an igloo or something.
When I get downstairs, my husband is waiting in the lobby with a paper and twine-wrapped bouquet of huge pink peonies, and a sexy smirk that I want to kiss right off his face.
“I love peonies!” I exclaim. “You remembered.”
“How could I possibly forget,” he says, “when you made such a big deal about having them all over the place for the wedding?”
My cheeks are warm, and excitement pumps through me as I embrace him, keeping the kiss PG for the sake of the doorman.
“Ready?” Luka asks, and when I nod he takes my hand and leads me to the garage.
So far, he hasn’t dropped a single hint about where we’re going, and the suspense is killing me. I look at him expectantly, but he doesn’t give in.
“C’mon, spill it. Where are you taking me?”
He holds the car door for me. “I told you. It’s a secret.”
I try to con him into telling me while he drives, but he’s adorably resolute in keeping it to himself.
The section of the city we go through looks familiar, and I get very curious as we pull into the United Center.
I’ve never been inside, but I know that the Bulls play here, and tons of concerts and special events are held in the venue as well.
But there are hardly any cars in the lot, and no names on the big signs outside.
I’m at a complete loss over what he’s up to.
“Are we…seeing a concert?” I ask.
“Nope.”
“Comedy show?”
“Not even close.”
Parking, he unbuckles his seatbelt to turn and look at me, his eyes lit up with amusement. “Feeling athletic today?”
I tap my chin, like I’m thinking hard. “Well, I was loafing on the couch staring at my phone when you called, and I haven’t been to my yoga class in a few days. So…”
He draws the end of my braid over my shoulder and fiddles with it. “I’ll go easy on you. Don’t worry.” Then he comes around and opens the door for me. I eye him suspiciously.
“Just what in the world do you have planned in there? Is this a boxing match?”
“You’ll see.”
“Fine.” Sighing melodramatically, I take his hand and follow him inside.
He covers my eyes with one of his hands and leads me left, right, through a door, and down a hallway.
It’s hard to tell what I’m in for when I can’t even see anything.
We go through another door that shuts behind us with a heavy, echoing click, and then all of a sudden the temperature gets noticeably colder.
I smell ice and frost. Luka shifts so he’s behind me.
“Ready to open your eyes now?”
“Yes!”
Pulling his hands away, I blink into the blinding light all around us.
An ice rink spreads out before me, the pristine white surface glistening like it’s just been polished. A table with a white tablecloth and two chairs is positioned in the center of the rink. Candles flicker warmly, casting a quiet glow. The whole tableau looks enchanted.
“Luka, this is magical!”
“I rented out the rink so we could skate together,” he tells me. “Alone. No PR, no paparazzi, no family looking over our shoulders. Just us.”
“We have the entire rink to ourselves?” I’m shocked. Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined he’d do anything like this.
“We do. But first, we feast.”
“Oh my God. This is so cool!”
And it is. But I don’t have the heart to tell him that I’ve only skated once in my life, and that was at a mini rink set up in the middle of our local shopping mall during the holidays. I was such a disaster on the ice, I still can’t believe I didn’t fall and crack my face open.
He leads me to a bench, where a pair of skates is waiting for each of us, along with two pairs of knit gloves, two matching hats, and two scarves. They’re all covered in the Bulls and Blackhawks logos, which makes me laugh. I sit to pull off my shoes, and pick up a skate.
“These are my size,” I gasp in wonder.
“You think I don’t know my wife’s shoe size?” he says, laughing. “I got you.”
I don’t know why, but it’s this small detail that has me blinking back tears all of a sudden. He’s been devoting himself to me all along in the quietest ways, and I never noticed.
Slowly, I manage to get the skates laced up. He gets his own on a lot quicker, and I realize he’s done this before. Great. He’s going to skate circles around me. In fact, I bet he’s a pro. He must be, or how else would he have come up with this idea? Boy, am I in for it.
I catch a whiff of whatever deliciousness is waiting for us at the table.
“Let’s do this,” I say. Sure, I might fall on my ass and make a total fool of myself, but I’m determined to get to that food.
Gloves on, Luka steps out onto the ice with absolute confidence and holds out his hand.
Forcing a smile, I carefully pluck my way out onto the rink, grabbing onto anything I can until there’s nothing left to hang onto. I wasn’t exaggerating about being a disaster on the ice. Luka’s eyes twinkle with amusement.
“I should have asked if you could skate,” he says. “You grew up in Chicago, so I just assumed you knew how.”
“Well, you assumed wrong.” I make a mad reach for him, flailing my other arm needlessly. Luka’s got me now, and I look up into his face with a mortified grin. “Yeah, so, my parents had me in piano lessons and ballet at our local rec center. You?”
“Played hockey since I was six. But that’s okay, I can teach you. And just think. You’ll get to spend all night in my arms.”
“Ha-ha,” I say drily, but I can’t keep the smile off my face. With nobody else here to watch me struggle, and Luka being kind enough not to laugh, I have to admit that this is fun.
He leans down to kiss me and it’s the warmest kiss I’ve ever shared with him. Then he takes both of my hands and starts skating backward while pulling my ungraceful self along.
My feet don’t want to stay directly under me and keep splitting like scissors, but I manage to make it to the chair in one piece. Luka skates around the table a few more times and then pulls a two-bladed stop, spraying me with a fine shower of ice crystals.
“You show off!” I yelp, but I’m loving this playful side of him.
I get settled while the aroma of whatever is under the warming plates on the table teases me. Luka pours us wine and removes the cloth napkin covering a basket of steaming bread.
He raises his glass. “To my wife, for letting me kidnap her on our first date.”
Clink. “To my husband, for keeping me upright on the ice. Mostly. And thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Our meal is lobster risotto and lamb chops, roasted endives, and white chocolate mousse for dessert. We talk quietly, but mostly just enjoy each other’s company. The flickering candles, the ice, the sight of him across from me, his presence—it’s all completely perfect.
When we’re done, Luka skates around to help me out of my chair. I’m like a wobbly newborn fawn.
“This isn’t going to end well,” I shriek.
“I’m here,” he soothes. “And I’m gonna hold on to you no matter what, so don’t worry.”
I catch his eyes, the promise in that statement running through me. My heart feels full.
Luka makes a slow spin, pulling me along while I grit my teeth and try to get my balance.
Then he puts an arm around me and we glide over the ice.
Right foot. Left foot. Right foot. Left foot.
We find a rhythm together and before I know it, I’m not thinking about my feet or my balance or falling down.
I’m gliding with my husband’s help. His support is the only thing I’m focused on and as we spin across the ice, it almost feels like flying.
Finally, just before we call it quits, he gives me a few pointers and then instructs me in skating toward him across the rink. I’m slow, a little jerky in my movements, but I make it all the way across. Without falling. Not even once.
“I’m an ice skater!!” I yell, collapsing into his arms. “Olympic skate team, here I come!”
We both laugh.
“See?” he says. “There’s nothing to it. It’s all practice and muscle memory.”
He kisses me, wrapping his arms around my waist and holding me close.
As I lose myself in the touch of his lips, I think about the fact that I’ve come back to my husband a few times already—and each time our relationship has healed, grown, and gotten better.
Now we both just need to figure out how to stay.