Page 51 of Spring Tide

It honestly wasn’t. In fact, it was one of the easiest lies I’ve told since we started this whole charade.

“Friday night, then, after practice?”

“I can make that work. Maybe I could head over early and help her out in the kitchen?”

“I don’t know, Taylor’s kind of a freak about cooking.” His soft chuckle hits me right in the chest. “She’d probably swat your hands out of the way if you tried to help.”

“Okay, nix that plan. Do you think I could at least bring something? What kind of wine do you drink with risotto, anyway?”

“Our mom usually cooks with pinot grigio but drinks half the bottle while she’s at it.” His expression shifts to something lighter, as if he’s replaying the memory in the back of his mind. “I’m guessing that would work.”

“Perfect.”

I bounce on my heels, itching to throw my arms around him. But instead, I simply lay a soft hand on his shoulder, squeezing just once before he’s on his way out the door.

16

LUCA

I’m scramblingaround my living room, gathering up old magazines, dusting off shelves, and tucking ugly knickknacks into back corners. No matter what I do, the house doesn’t feel ready for guests. But it’s nearing seven o’clock, and Harper’s bound to be here any minute.

My fingers flex, fists clenching together as I enter the kitchen. Taylor’s happily stirring away at her risotto, clueless to my frantic energy as she dances and twirls to some LÉON song. The pungent smell of mushrooms, fresh oil, and pancetta wafts through the air, and I feel a little bit calmer.

It reminds me of home—my parents, Elio, Mia, and Vivia. And most of all, the earthy, almondy scent reminds me of little Giorgie, who used to pluck each mushroom out and feed them to Bentley under the table. It also reminds me that it’s been weeks since I’ve FaceTimed with her.

She’s only seven years old, and I’m her favorite sibling, yet I can’t even spare a few minutes to see her through the phone. To watch her smiling face light up as she clicks that four-leaf clover on her iPad, greeting me with her special nickname.

Lucky.

“Luc, hellooo,” Taylor singsongs, waving a wooden spoon in my face. “Earth to Luca.”

“What?” I ask, rearing back as she smacks me upside the head.

“You’ve been zoning out for, like, five whole minutes.” An amused expression quirks the side of her mouth. “You okay?”

“Just fine,” I grumble.

She turns back toward the stovetop. “Then you should probably go get changed. Your girlfriend is going to be here any second.”

“I wasn’t planning on changing.”

Her sudden burst of laughter echoes throughout the kitchen. When it’s met by my unimpressed silence, she whirls back around to face me, waving that spoon in my face again.

“You can’t wear that, Luc.” Her nose scrunches in distaste, gaze quickly sweeping over me from head to foot. “You look like you’re headed down to the pier for work, except you couldn’t find your uniform, so you put on Dad’s old, wrinkly, hand-me-down T-shirt from the eighties.”

My head drops back with a displeased groan. “Jesus Christ, now I have to fucking change.”

“Good,” Taylor happily chirps. “Before you do, taste this real quick.”

She scoops up a tiny bit of arborio rice from the pan, tilting the wooden spoon toward my face as she cups one hand underneath. I roll my eyes, leaning forward to accept her offer. The rice is piping hot, butdamn, it might even be better than our mamma’s.

“It’s decent, Tay.”

“Decent, my ass,” she mutters, eyes widening at the sound of Bentley’s frantic barking.

“Shit, that must be Harper.” My fingers scrape through my half-styled, unruly hair, nervously pushing it back as the doorbell rings. “Can you get that while I throw on another shirt?”

She drops her spoon back onto the stovetop, nodding as she pushes me toward the hallway. “I bought you a couple of new outfits for tonight. On clearance. They’re in the shopping bag hanging off your door handle.”

---