Eslin is the first to set her glass down. “Now, about this mind-blowing—”
“Mind-bending, I believe she said,” Tatum corrects.
I laugh, feeling the warmth of the bourbon and the company. “Yes. Mind-bending sex with Sir Luca Chidubem!”
The girls squeal.
And so do I. “You guys! I’m starting to think he might be exactly what I needed all along. These past few weeks, it’s like he’s been peeling back layers of me I didn't even know existed. He’s opening me up to things, experiences,feelings…” I pause, trying to find the words, but I’m a mess of confusion from falling in love with my husband.
“I... I’ve never felt this seen. Or this wrecked, if I’m honest.”
Tatum lets out a low whistle, grinning. “Look at you. The good church girl, finally getting corrupted by the big, bad striker. I knew he had it in him, but I didn't know he was a miracle worker!”
“Shut up! You make it sound like I was some stuck-up prude!”
Eslin and Tatum exchange a knowing look.
“What!” I yell.
“Sweetie, you can be a bit judgmental about the men you date, and you do tend to have... let's say,loftyexpectations.”
I frown, defensive. “I do not! And why are you two making me sound exactly like my mother?”
“If the helicopter fits!” Tatum says, shrugging.
“I’m not doing this with you two. I simply know what I like and I refuse to settle. How does that make me judgmental?”
Tatum shakes her head. “Never mind, sweetie. We don’t have nearly enough time to unpack all of that right now.”
“And I’m definitely not getting paid enough for this, so can we please get back to the sex?” Eslin argues. “My fiancé has been traveling, and I could really use some secondhand tension.”
I shake my head, trying to sober my thoughts as I take another slow sip of my drink.
“It’s not just the bedroom,” I admit, my voice softening as the weight of it settles in my chest. “It’s the way he looks at me when the cameras aren't there. He’s becoming the man I fell in love with back in Vegas all over again. The man who didn’t know myname but still couldn’t get enough of me. But...” I trail off, the ice in my glass suddenly becoming the most interesting thing in the room.
“But?” Eslin prompts, her therapist's intuition kicking into high gear.
“We’re going to his mother’s birthday party,” I say, the anxiety prickling at my skin. “It feels like so much pressure—for both of us. There’s special attire, Luca has a personal seamstress and we’re actually getting fitted for traditional, matching outfits. They even sent the fabric ahead of time! Like, who are these people? What exactly am I getting myself into? Better yet, what did I marry into?”
“That’s all normal, Aspen,” Tatum chimes in. “Haven’t you seen the Nigerian celebrations on social media? Everyone dresses in the same colors to show they're part of the family.”
“It’s not the clothes,” I counter, shaking my head. “It’s just...he makes his family sound so regal. Proper. Deeply traditional. And here I am, the girl who introduced herself by burping in a Vegas pod while my own mother is currently trying to pray our marriage into non-existence. I’m terrified they’ll take one look at me and decide I'm not enough.”
The room goes quiet for a second. Eslin leans forward, her gaze piercing. “Is that what you’re really afraid of, Aspen? Or are you worried that if they don’t like you, he won't choose you a second time?”
The question silences me. I let out a long, shaky breath. “Yes. That’s exactly what I’m worried about.”
Eslin nods slowly, her gaze holding mine with a weight that makes it impossible to look away. “Then you need to talk to your husband, Aspen. It makes no sense to be having all this world-class, mind-bending sex if you can’t have a real conversation outside the bedroom.”
She reaches out, resting a hand on my arm, her voice softening but losing none of its edge. “If he’s man enough to handle you in the dark, he’s man enough to carry you in the light.”
I stare into the amber liquid of my glass, her words echoing against the sudden, hollow silence of the room. The sex is the easy part—the blurring of lines and the surrender of bodies. But as the afternoon sun glints off the expensive glass of the Strikers’ complex, I realize that the real challenge isn't the fitting or the fabric. It’s finding the courage to step out of the shadows and see if Luca is truly ready to hold all of me.
Chapter Thirty-Three
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Luca
