It’s a perfect day. The kind where if someone offered to grant me a wish, I’d have a hard time thinking of one that would make it any better. Reece and I are in his car, top down, speeding down the Pacific Coast Highway. I have a scarf tied around my head to keep my hair from blowing. But caught up in the exhilaration of the moment, I reach under my chin and untie it. I laugh in delight as my hair blows wildly around me.

The noon sun is shining, and it’s an unusually warm day for the end of October. But there’s a nice breeze and it feels great. It’s dry, but there’s moisture that makes it feel like a sweet caress.

After breakfast, he went home to change and told me to be ready in an hour and to wear something a little nicer than casual. He said we were going to lunch at Spago in Beverly Hills; and then he had a surprise for me. I protested when he suggested that restaurant. He just waved me off and said, “It’s easy to get a table and the food is great. And it’s on the way to where we’re going.”

It’s also very public. Just the kind of place I’d avoid since my book took off. Reece is a paparazzi magnet. I’m not an expert, but I’ve heard Jess reading from the celebrity gossip and me hearing, seen coming out of Spago. I’m worried that if we go to Spago, someone will take a picture of us together. People will start asking, right away, who I am; where I came from.

When I gave voice to that concern, Reece had said, “Why should you be afraid of that? Own it, Lucía. You need to stop hiding. You have the right to be here. You have a valid work permit and you’re a law-abiding person. Besides, Spago is discreet. It’ll be fine.”

As we turn off the 405 and onto Wilshire Boulevard, he hits a button on his dashboard that starts to put his top back up. “We’re almost there, not much privacy on Wilshire, even at this end of it.” He grabs my hand. His fingers twine with mine and remain that way as we make our way up this iconic stretch of road.

We’re passing through the greenest strip of Wilshire when Reece’s phone rings. His car’s dashboard announces that “Graham” is calling. He touches a button on his steering wheel and a booming voice replaces the music we were listening to.

“Yo, R. Are you in LA?”

“Yup,” Reece responds.

“And you didn’t even let your bros know you were coming? You’ve disappeared to that house in fucking Malibu. You’ve left O, D, and me to handle all these thirsty hoes on our own.”

I can’t stop the gasp that comes out of my mouth.

“Graham, you’re so dramatic, man. I’m in LA, but only for today and I’m with my lady, so watch your mouth.”

“Oh, shit,” Graham drawls. He has a deep, very strong Southern accent. God, it’s sexy. And I know who he is because everyone knows who Graham Davis is. He’s a very sought after personal trainer. He has his own TV show where he helps people lose weight. He’s got a line of workout clothes, diet supplements and his own line of sports drinks. He’s also a notorious womanizer and a professional bad boy. Jess has a picture of him on the wall of her pottery studio. She calls him her muse.

“Excuse me, Reece’s lady. If I’d known you were in the car, I would have tried to sound like I have some manners,” he says and I look at Reece, not saying anything.

“Graham, shut up. And you could always come to Malibu if you miss me,” he says.

Graham scoffs, “Yeah, right. Meet us for dinner tonight. I’ll text you the details and you better be there. Don’t say no. I’m hanging up.” Then the line goes dead. I turn to him, excited by having been in a car where Graham fucking Davis was just talking.

“Sorry about that. We don’t have to go to dinner,” he says apologetically.

“Are you crazy? Of course we have to go to dinner. Can I invite Jessica?”

“You want to go to dinner? I thought you’d want to go home early.”

“Why would you think that?” I ask him, perplexed. “I’m having the best day.”

He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, sure. We can stay in LA for dinner.”

He pulls past Soul Cycle in Beverly Hills and I see all the women sweating their asses off and I remember that I promised myself to add some sort of cardio to my workouts. I’ve been eating all the food Jessica cooked for me. ALL of it. My half-assed yoga isn’t going to cut it.

And then he’s turning onto North Canon and we’re at the restaurant.

The valets come and open each of our doors and only then does Reece let go of my hand. As soon as we’re standing together, he grabs hold of it again. “I promise Graham is much nicer than that phone call might lead you to believe. Omar and Dave will be there, too, so yeah invite Jessica if you want.” As soon as we enter the restaurant, a young man, dressed in a suit and tie says, “Welcome, Mr. Carras, Ms. Vega. Your table is ready. Please, follow me.”

I turn to Reece and whisper, “You must come here a lot. They’re acting like you’re royalty or something.” He chuckles. “Yeah, my dad loves it here. Since I was a kid, this has been our spot. When I’m in LA, my parents and I meet here for lunch almost every day. It’s convenient, great food and they’re more discreet than a lot of other places in town. We’ll have privacy here.”

We walk through the restaurant, which is tasteful and understated in its decor, but it feels special. It’s a beautiful space full of beautiful people. I see several very famous people as we pass by and all of them stop Reece to say hello. He introduces me to everyone by saying, “This is Lucía Vega.” And nothing else. And to my amazement, some of them have heard of me. Their faces brighten. One woman who is one of my all-time favorite actresses grabs my hand and says, “I cried reading your book. You told a story that everyone needs to hear. So glad to meet you.” I am so star struck, I’m unable to do more than nod and mumble, “thank you.”

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.

“Reece, what in the world? You terrified her,” I whisper at him.

“Good. She knows that she should serve you first. The women at the table always get served first here. She must be new.” The muscle in his jaw flexes.

“Reece, I didn’t even notice. Give her a break, it’s not exactly an easy, high paying job. Who knows what her day has been like? Maybe she’s got a sick kid or a sick parent. Or maybe she’s just an asshole,” I add trying to lighten the mood.

He sighs and shakes his head. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I just want today to be good for you.”

I tilt my head at him. “I’m having a great day,” I assure him with a smile.

“So, tell me about swimming. I watched you swim in the Olympics.” I blush when his smile turns knowing. “I mean, I watched everyone, but I remember you. All your gold medals. It was so exciting to see an American on the top of that podium.”

Reece looks thoughtful. “So, you think of yourself as American?” he asks, seeming to be genuinely curious.

But that question hurts, especially coming from him, one of the DREAMERs’ biggest allies.

“I don’t think of myself as an American. I am an American. This is my country. even if they don’t want me,” I say to him,

He muffles a curse and takes my hands, I glance around the restaurant immediately, wanting to make sure no one’s watching us.

“This is the most private table in the entire restaurant, no one can see us clearly unless they’re standing right in front of us.” Reece’s voice has a tinge of irritation. “And that was a stupid, insensitive question. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Let’s talk about something else. Tell me when you started swimming?”

He looks relieved by the subject change and I know I am. I don’t want anything to put a damper on today.

“I was swimming before I could walk. My dad’s Greek. He comes from a family of sailors, and he insisted that I learn how to swim. And I love the water. There’s something about being immersed in it that makes me feel invincible.” He laughs at himself. “I know that sounds ridiculous. But it’s true. And when they realized I was fast, they put me on a team. My parents tried to encourage my love of film and I knew that they’d expect me to join them in the business when I was old enough. I interned at Artemis every summer from the age of fifteen.” He laughs ruefully.

“I started in the package delivery room. As long as I did that internship, they let me swim. The only other rule in our house was that I needed to keep myself out of the press. I had no interest in that life anyway, so that didn’t feel like a sacrifice. Sophomore year of high school, I was recruited by a coach who’d come to one of my meets. My parents agreed to let me work with him as long as I kept my grade point average at school above a 3.5. So, I did. That was good enough to get into UCLA which also had a competitive and well-funded swimming program. I swam in my first Olympics my junior year, but I took a year off to train. I promised my parents I would go back and finish my degree.”

His eyes drift a little. “Winning gold was so unexpected. Even though I’d been working hard that year and I knew I was competitive for a medal before I got in that pool, winning gold was surreal.” The proud grin falls a little as he continues.

“Gold brought the spotlight and people all over the world started asking who I was. I went from Reece Carras the swimmer to Reece Carras the Olympic Gold Medalist and son of ‘Hollywood Royalty.’ And the rest is history.”

“Wow, how conveniently you erased me from your life history.” I look up to see who the owner of the sultry, slightly accented voice is and see Fabienne standing there, her perfectly styled eyebrows raised. I’d been so absorbed in Reece’s story, I hadn’t even heard her walk up.

“Hello, Reece. I was just sitting down to lunch when Martha Tierney told me you were here.” She looks pointedly at our joined hands and I immediately start to pull my hand back.

He tightens his hold on it.

“Fabienne,” Reece says not hiding his irritation.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me? This is actually the second time we’ve met, after all. I always seem to catch you two when you’re having a moment.” Her tone is pleasant, but the expression in her eyes is anything but.

Reece sighs, gives me a reassuring smile, and then looks up at her.

“This is Lucía Vega. She’s the author writing the screenplay for a project we’re developing. Lucía, this is Fabienne de Olivera.” His use of her maiden name must annoy her because her eyes narrow at it. “Thank you for stopping by to say hello,” he says in a tone that is just civil.

She turns to face me and says, “Enjoy your moment while it lasts.”

“Goodbye, Fabienne,” Reece says, his tone making it clear that she was being asked to leave.

“See ya,” she says with a cold smile. And then she turns and strolls away. I stare after her and think that for a woman who was blessed with so much physical beauty and natural talent, she seems pretty miserable.

“I’m sorry about that.”

I don’t say anything, but I’m curious about how someone as conscientious and kind as Reece was married to someone who’s the exact opposite of those things.

“When did you meet her?” I ask, that curiosity overriding my good manners and discretion.

“Are you questioning my judgment?” We both laugh.

“No, I’m just wondering, you’re complete opposites,” I say honestly and he sobers a little.

“I was in Australia for a swim meet. I was just eighteen. And she was in Australia for a fashion thing. We met at a night club, hit it off and that was it. Honestly, Luc, I didn’t put much thought into things, then. Not for years. I swam and when I wasn’t swimming, I was working at Artemis. My parents discouraged the marriage and that just made me want it more. We eloped to Vegas. And she didn’t really want anything more than fame and I was just a vehicle to get there. So, we grew apart pretty quickly. She started cheating on me. So, I stopped fucking her.” He grimaces and says, “Sorry, I stopped sleeping with her.”

“Call it whatever you want. Either way, it makes me want to vomit. You can skip this part,” I say with a grimace.

His expression is sheepish as he continues. “Anyway, she was gone a lot for work so she didn’t notice. When I was injured, I moved in with my parents because she was gone on jobs for months at a time and I needed help after the surgery on my shoulder. That’s when I found out about . . .” He pauses and looks at me before he says, “Everything that happened with Julian.”

Hearing him say Julian’s name pokes at the never-healing crack in my heart and I feel myself wince.

Reece stops talking. “I’m okay, Reece. Go ahead.” I prod his calf gently with the toe of my shoe. He looks unsure, but goes on.

“It scared me straight and it got me fired up to do something. And that was when things with Fabi really started going south. Before, our relationship had been kept alive by a sort of mutual indifference.” He grimaces.

“Then she lost her contract with her agency and all of her work along with it. She was still beautiful, but she’d stopped taking care of herself and designers weren’t booking her anymore. So she moved home. And that’s when she decided that it would be fun to make both of our lives a living hell. I put up with it for a while because I’m Catholic. Divorce is frowned upon. And I didn’t want to hear my parents say I told you so. So, I stuck it out. She wanted to party, travel, shop, snort coke and fuck. I was trying to get my foundation off the ground and I’d just gotten my first major promotion at Artemis. We just wanted different things from life. So she started traveling, partying and fucking . . . without me.”

He says this, smiling so broadly, I wonder if I’ve missed something. But so captivated by his smile, that I don’t want to ask and risk that he’ll stop smiling. He’s such a beautiful man. I want to pinch myself. I can’t believe this is my life.

Our waitress approaches the table and I slip my hand out of Reece’s as soon as I see her. Reece’s smile disappears. I groan inwardly. We’re going to have to talk about this.

She places my napkin in my lap for me; I almost slap her hand before I realize what she’s doing. She walks off quietly, leaving Reece and I to eat and talk.

“Eat up, I want to get to my parents’ soon. We have to meet the guys for dinner and I don’t want us having to rush from place to place.”

I drop my fork at that.

“Wait, we’re going to your parents’ house? Today? Are they there?”

Reece doesn’t stop eating, and nods casually.

“I’m not ready to meet your parents, Reece! Isn’t your dad recuperating?”

“We won’t stay long. Don’t worry, they’ll love you.” And then he digs back into his steak.

I can’t imagine how that could be true and I have a hard time finishing my meal after that. But Reece seems so unbothered that I decide to try and relax. I tell him about the first time I met Jessica.

“She started the nickname thing right after that first class. We’d started talking while we were packing up. She said, “you’re such a little treat, aren’t you? You remind me of all my favorite pastries.”

When we get up to leave, we’re in a good mood. As we approach the front of the restaurant, Reece stops short. He loops an arm around my waist and starts to walk back into the restaurant. His face is a mask of barely controlled anger.

“What’s happening?” I whisper, looking around the restaurant in alarm.

“Someone called the paparazzi.” I look over my shoulder and through the tinted front windows of the restaurant, I see a throng of people standing outside with cameras. He stops again and when I look back at him, his gaze is focused on something and when I follow it, I see that he’s staring at Fabienne. She smiles maliciously and widens her eyes in feigned innocence.

He shakes his head in disgust pulls his phone out as he walks us back toward our table. “Liza, send a car to Spago. Back entrance. And please, send someone to pick up my car. I have it valeted here.”

The man in the tie who’d taken us to our table walks up to us. “This way, Mr. Carras, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize they were outside. Someone must have just called them. Can I order you a car?” His nerves evident in this rapid-fire line of questioning.

Reece is calm when he responds. “I have a car on the way. We’ll wait at our table until they get here.” He leads us back to the table we just vacated. It’s cleaned and reset and he leaves us to sit down and practically sprints away.

He sits down and pulls me into his lap. When he looks at me his eyes are full of regret. “They don’t know who you are, yet. But we’re going to need to get you a publicist sooner rather than later.” He looks stressed and I want to alleviate that. I look around and see that we’re back behind the wall that had hidden us from the rest of the restaurant.

I wrap my hand around his neck and massage it with my fingers. “Mmmm, I need that,” he murmurs.

“Let me give you something else I think you need.” I tilt my face up to his.

He smiles slowly as he bends to meet me. Our eyes locked on each other until the moment our lips touch and just as they do, I whisper, “Yes.”

And my eyes flutter shut. If anything in my life has ever felt as right and sure as this kiss, I can’t remember.

It’s an exploring kiss that he starts to deepen right away. I open my mouth for him and his tongue feels hot as it sweeps the inside of my bottom lip. My awareness narrows to Reece. His hands in my hair, his mouth taking the offering of mine with avarice. I feel it right at the center of me.

A vibrating sensation against my thigh, makes me jump back, breaking our kiss.

Reece is a sight; his hair mussed, his mouth smeared with my lipstick and his eyes bright. He looks down at himself and it’s a few seconds before he realizes the vibration is coming from his phone’s buzzing.

He grabs it and simply says, “We’re coming out.” And hangs up.

“Come on, Vega. Let’s get out of here.” Reece hurries me through the kitchen and out a backdoor into the alley. The SUV’s rear passenger door is open and Reece climbs in and pulls me inside with him.

He puts the privacy screen up and leans back in his seat, covering his eyes and swears under his breath. I eye him expectantly and when he doesn’t say anything else, I poke him in the ribs.

He opens one eye, and when he sees my worried expression, he sits up and smiles. But it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Sorry, it’s just . . . that was a close call. We really need to get you a publicist soon.”

I groan. He squeezes me reassuringly. “We can talk about it later. I hoped we’d have a little more time before all of that.”

“All of what?”

“We’re only a few minutes from my parents. Let’s just enjoy the rest of the day.” I nod my agreement, but I can’t shake the little kernel of unease that I’m feeling at the thought of publicists and paparazzi. But before I can worry about that, I’ve got to get over my most immediate challenge—meeting Reece’s parents.