Page 23 of Second to None

I turned and crossed the space between us—didn’t think, for once. Just wrapped him up in my arms until he relaxed against me, into me, and I held on like I should have done years ago.

* * *

Emily.

Christ—Levi’sdaughter.

And Jessica. Sassy, fierce, beautiful Jess—the older sister I would have loved to have.

I was still processing it all, quietly sipping my coffee, while Levi, Mason, and Emily were slinging words like rubber balls around the kitchen—Emily wanted to hug Belle and Elsa, while Mason was getting unreasonably excited about exploring the Millennium Falcon and Levi wanted to show Emily how to wield a lightsaber.

When Levi sent me a half-smile, I wasn’t prepared for how it twisted through my gut—sadness, longing, regret. “You want to come?” he asked.

I wanted… Fuck. I wanted to undo our past, wished he’d called and given me the chance to be there—I would have been on the first flight out. But that wasn’t something I could tell him, not yet. Not when it would sound more like a reproach than a promise.

“I’d love to come, yeah.” My voice came out wistful. “But probably not a good idea, right? Between you and Mason, it’s likely you’ll get recognized. Add me to the mix, and it’s pretty much a given.”

Sure, they’d don the usual hats and sunglasses, and a VIP guide would ensure priority access to attractions, minimizing the time they’d spend in crowded areas. This was hardly the first time Disney’s staff dealt with celebrity guests. But I was… well. Mason had settled in his sizable niche, and he was happy with it. Me? I’d longed for bigger, brighter, more, and I’d found it.

Turned out it didn’t fill the void.

“What about…” Levi trailed off with an aborted wave of his hand, and right, yeah. That. The fake relationship thing.

“No, forget it.” I shook my head, catching Mason’s searching glance even as I kept my attention on Levi. “I know that’s not… I get it. Why you wouldn’t. It was a stupid idea to begin with. I never should have asked.”

“I didn’t say that.” Levi pursed his mouth, just like how he’d used to whenever I dug into online negativity—that note I hadn’t hit quite right, how rude I’d been to get sick and miss some interview, why I hadn’t stopped for autographs.‘You’re human,’was what he’d always told me.‘You don’t owe them perfection. They don’t own you.’

I’d needed years to understand what he meant.

“It’s okay. Really.” Even though my smile was genuine, it felt foreign and strange, an imperfect fit now that my world had shifted a few inches to the left. Levi and I… I’d known him by heart. Until I didn’t. Until it was like I didn’t know him at all. His life had turned upside down and I’d had no idea.

“Cass…” Levi’s tone was gentle, and I remembered how he’d folded into me out on the terrace, his big personality suspended for a breath or two. When we’d pulled apart, I didn’t know what to say, the words in my head dazzling and fragmented like the spin of a kaleidoscope. Then Emily had poked her head outside, breaking the moment.

“Seriously,” I told him now. “I’m a big boy. No need for literal hand-holding.”

Levi’s eyes narrowed in thought, but it was Mason who said, “You know, this kind of reminds me of back then. It was like you two spoke your own language, and half the time, the rest of us had no fucking clue what you were on about.”

“Well,” Levi said with a meaningful nod at Emily. “Speaking of language…”

She paused, spoon halfway to her mouth, to send him a hilariously miffed look. “You swear all the time!”

Mason formed finger guns. “What she said.”

“And at what point did I authorizeyou”—Levi pointed an outraged finger at Emily—“to team up withhim?” He pointed at Mason.

Emily giggled, eyes bright with mirth, and it hit me that Levi was a dad. Adad. Whatever illusions I’d held about us, I’d have to kiss them goodbye. Emily was his priority now, and even though there were rules to protect celebrities’ kids, he wouldn’t want to stray anywhere near my spotlight. I’d well and truly lost him.

Cry later.

“As a Brit, you hold no authority on American soil,” I managed. “Keep up, Lee.”

“Blasphemy,” he said, all prim and proper. If he’d registered my use of his nickname, it didn’t show. “I’ll have the lot of you feathered like a peacock and made to do the chicken dance.”

“Cute,” Mason said.

“But not very vegan,” I said.

“Feathers from birds?” Emily asked. “Isn’t that kind of like stealing teeth from a shark?”

---