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As soon as we reach our table, before I even sit down, I ask for the lady’s room and run to go and text Jessica. I have to tell her right away where I am and what’s happening. And I have to invite her to dinner tonight.
I’m not crazy about celebrities, but Reece’s friends are in their own galaxies when it comes to fame. Graham, Omar, and Dave are the hottest guys in their respective professions. Dave is the head violinist for the Los Angeles Philharmonic. He’s made classical music cool again. He’s very private and rarely appears in Jessica’s magazines. Omar is the newest European soccer player acquired by the LA Galaxy. His family is from the Pacific Island of Tonga, but he was born and raised in Los Angeles. An injury cut his Premier League career short, but he’s still a star. Known for fighting with paparazzi—and his wanderlust. His Instagram is full of pictures of his perfect body laid out on one exotic beach after another.
Gossip magazines dubbed them the Four Horsemen, because they all met when they were young polo players at the California Polo Club. They are all big, athletic and so very sexy.
I know that meeting these men is on Jess’ celebrity bucket list. All three of them at once is crazy. I tell her I’ll send her details, but that she should be ready for the night of her life.
And then I look at myself in the mirror, I see a smile on my face that I don’t recognize. It’s huge. We’re coming to the end of a really dynamic couple of weeks. There’s been so much pain, but so much to celebrate as well. I know Reece and I aren’t in the clear. But it feels like we’ve both decided to not waste time being apart when we both want each other so much.
I’m nervous about how he’ll react when I tell him I’ve never had sex before.
I walk back out to our table, trying not to gawk as I walk past table after table of movie stars, models and the crème de la crème of Hollywood.
Reece is scrolling through his phone, but as I approach, he drops it into the inside pocket of his jacket.
“I ordered a bottle of water for the table, but they’ll be right back to get you a drink,” he says as he takes a big sip of his own water.
“Thanks, this is great,” I say excitedly as tears swim into my eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Reece asks with concern.
“Nothing. I can’t believe this is my life. Mine. Lucía Vega, née Ana Maria De La Vega Rios. I used to stock shelves in grocery stores, I used to scrub toilets for a living. Now, I’m in Beverly Hills with the most amazing man holding my hand. People I’ve grown up watching on my television are telling me that they’ve heard of me.”
The concern on his face morphs into understanding.
“You’ve come a long way, Fifty-five. And you’ve done it your way. You have a lot to be proud of.” The nickname is starting to grow on me, and I smile at him before I speak.
“I wish Julian was here.” I say wistfully and when I see his smile falter, I reach across the table to grab his hand.
“Please. I know it’s only been a week since everything’s been out in the open. But, I want to talk about him. But if you’re not ready, I understand,” I tell him
“I’m ready. I want to learn more about him, too,” he says, squeezing my hand and looking me in the eye.
“I was so young when he died, so my memories of him are things like tagging along when my mother sent him to the store. We’d always stop at a little playground near our house and he’d push me as high and fast as I wanted. That’s the playground, you know.”
His eyes widen in surprise.
I laugh at the memory and say almost to myself, “I wonder if it’s still there.” Just then, our waitress comes back with my water and an iced tea for Reece.
“Mr. Carras, good afternoon. Welcome back to Spago. We have your regular, unless you’d like something else?” she says pleasantly to Reece.
“Please serve my guest first,” Reece says in return, his voice icy.
The girl flushes and turns to me, “I’m sorry, Ms. Vega. Have you had a chance to look at the menu or can I recommend something?” she asks politely. If she is chagrined, she doesn’t show it.
“How about you recommend a salad? One with seafood,” I say warmly, eyeing Reece, my expression asking, ‘What was that about?’
“We have a great Lobster salad. The lobster is flown in overnight from Maine and kept alive until you order your salad.”
“That sounds wonderful,” letting my excitement show.
She smiles brightly and faces Reece, “Mr. Carras. Will you have your regular?”
He nods, not smiling in return.
“I’ll go put that in. Would you like anything else to drink?”
I shake my head no and she leaves without another glance at Reece.
