Page 91 of Lucky 22

He looks at me with a sleepy smile. “Fantastic. I thinkmaybe tomorrow we can—” He pauses when he spots his trophy. “What in theworld?” Grinning, he looks at me.

“It needed to be on display.” I shrug. “And this was thebiggest spot I could find.”

“The ironing board?” And yes, now he’s trying not to laugh.

“Yup. I couldn’t just let it sit on the floor.” He climbsinto the bed beside me, and we both laugh in disbelief at this amazing moment.“I’m in awe of you, Christian, and so were all the people watching you tonight.That MVP trophy was awarded to the right person.”

“You’re just biased.”

“I am. But not about this. You deserve that award. I’venever seen you play like you did in this series.” I wonder how much he’shurting, but I don’t ask.

Resting his head on my shoulder, we both get comfortable aswe stare at the trophy.

“I know you probably already envisioned winning the WorldSeries. After all, that’s been the goal for the entire season. But was iteverything you thought it would be?” His hand’s in mine, and for the first timein months, he feels like he’s relaxed.

“The goal at the beginning of every season is to win theWorld Series. That’s the only reason you play. You expect to win. That’s whatpushes you through the hard times. Although there were times this season whenit felt impossible, we kept on believing. But to win the MVP? That was never onmy radar. I never thought I’d receive that honor.”

“As I said, it was well deserved.”

We sit in companionable silence for several minutes, thekind that doesn’t feel empty or awkward—just full. Full of the crowd stillechoing faintly in our heads, full of adrenaline slowly fading into somethingsofter, fuller, deeper. He finally lifts his head, his eyes finding mine, andthe tenderness there nearly steals the air from my lungs.

“This was the greatest night of my life, Ella Rose,” he saysquietly, voice rough with emotion. “And not just because of the win or thetrophy. Because you were right there with me. Celebrating it. Living it withme.”

My heart squeezes—too full, too grateful. “There’s nowhereelse in the world I would rather be,” I whisper, and I mean it with every beatof my heart.

He gives me a small, shaky laugh—the kind a strong man onlylets out when he feels safe. “I’m just so glad you could work out your filmingschedule for this. I would’ve been devastated if you hadn’t been here. I knowyou’ve got lines to memorize, and scenes to shoot, and your world is just asdemanding as mine, so the fact that you chose to be here tonight?” He swallows.“It means everything.”

I reach for his hand and curl my fingers through his.“Nothing else mattered tonight. Everyone on set understood that. I understoodthat. I never even thought about the movie once the game started. My entireworld was right here. Watching you, cheering for you, being with you. That wasthe only thing I wanted.”

I briefly think about Tracy’s call and know I’m not lying.

My focus was where it needed to be.

No matter the cost.

ChapterSixteen

The offseason is off to a great start. We spend threeweeks flying from LA to New York, doing press and all the late-night talkshows. Everyone wants to talk about Christian Lucas, the underdog who was namedthe World Series MVP. I have never been more proud.

However, no one wants to talk about Ella Lucas. I lost themovie role to another actress because I didn’t give them an answer that night.Hollywood can’t even wait one night for the World Series, apparently.

Filming finishes in St. Louis just as we’re ready to makeour move to Florida.

Moving in with my in-laws isn’t exactly the dream, butChristian and I both believe in being frugal, and it made sense. After all, whyfind a temporary apartment and pay rent for four months when we don’t have to?But I am a little nervous about us living with his parents when I still haven’treally bonded with his father. I don’t want things to be awkward, but they are.

Honestly, I feel like his dad is constantly testing me, likeI’m still on probation in his mind.

Christian and I live on the second floor of the house, andMr. and Mrs. Lucas live on the first floor. I don’t walk on my tiptoes and,apparently, you can hear my steps from above. On more than one occasion, he’ssaid, “You walk like an elephant.”

Then, there are my eating habits. I happen to enjoy threemeals a day. Nothing big, but I eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner, along withthe occasional snack. Mr. Lucas, on the other hand, only likes to eat one bigmeal a day. So, whenever he sees me eating anything, it’s usually met with,“You eat too much.”

Needless to say, I’m not feeling very at home in mytemporary home. I have to wait until Christian and I are alone in bed at nightto whisper my feelings because, along with the long list of my faults, I’m alsotoo loud.

Ugh.

“I’m only saying, I’m trying very hard to be nice to him andshow respect, but does he have to criticize everything I do?” Iwhisper.

“I’ll admit that he can be a little critical, but that’sjust the way he is. He doesn’t realize how it sounds. Don’t take itpersonally.” He says it like it’s no big deal, but it is.