“Sorry. Sorry.” He whispered as he rushed through the door to turn off the eighties rock blaring through the speaker.
“I was already up.” I set my phone on the side table and scooted up to rest my back on the headboard. “Sit.”
“Let me get out of yesterday's clothes.”
I nodded, and he went to the bathroom. The shower turned on, and I blew out a sigh. Avoidance ran both ways with us, and I hated I had to be the bigger person.
“I called Lauren,” I yelled toward the bathroom.
The water shut off, and Luca walked out dripping wet, wrapped in a plush towel. Water ran down his tight abs, my eyes following the trail until it reached the top of the towel.
“What did you say?” His dark brows pulled together as he pushed back his wet hair.
“I called Lauren. I told her you were taking the day off.”
Luca took his top lip between his teeth and shook his head. Blowing out a breath, he rested his hands on his hips. “And why’d you do that?”
“Are you fucking serious?”
“Yes!” He threw his hands out, his face twisted in a frown.
“We haven’t spent a whole day together since we got engaged. Not to mention, we just made up from a fight Saturday, and by Monday, a threat that Frankie wouldn’t explain interrupted our cake tasting. Then I spent the better part of my evening lying to my mom. Luckily, she loves you enough not to connect the dots. After all that, I’d say we absolutely need a day together without outside interruptions and bullshit.”
His tight jaw relaxed, and he came around to my side of the bed. “I wish you would’ve said something.”
“When?”
He gave me a resigned nod and turned toward the bathroom, dropping his towel at the door. He used his foot to push it around, sopping up the puddles on the floor. I laughed as he inched across the tile, his ass flexing with each slide of the towel. He peaked his head out of the doorway and smiled. “You didn’t think I’d leave the floor all wet?”
“Never.”
“Get dressed. If we’re taking the day off, we’re doing it in style.”
“Yes, sir!”
* * *
“This is my idea of a day off.”
Luca stepped behind me as I stared at the Rothko. “I’m glad you like it. Let’s head downstairs.”
“Yes, please!”
We paid the attendant and went into the first room of the immersive Van Gogh exhibit. Shades of blue and yellow surrounded us as we walked through Starry Night.
“This is amazing,” I murmured.
Luca took my hand and laced our fingers together. “It really is. Thank you for calling off today. I needed this. We needed this.”
“My pleasure. Thank you for going along with it.”
“Anytime.”
We strolled along in comfortable silence. A class of elementary school kids darted around us while their teacher tried to rein them in. It was all very wholesome.
“These kids are lucky.” I pointed to a trio of girls side-eyeing us as they whispered and giggled. “We never came to the art museum, but we sure as hell went to The Arch.”
“Right? How many times can one kid go up in that shaky elevator?” Luca laughed. “I have a thing about heights but refused to admit it. So, year after year, I tortured myself to prove I wasn’t a wuss.”