Page 66 of The Ruin
“Yes.”
He traces my jaw with a finger. “I promise to always put you first. Always.”
“I like the sound of that.”
Luka sits up to whip his shirt off, and then takes my hand and places it on his bare chest, right over his heart. “This is yours, okay? It’s gonna be me and you, together. Always.”
I loop my arms around his neck and tug him back down on top of me. “I really like the sound of that. And I think we should start now.”
Epilogue
Luka
Two months later
There’s a knock on the door.
Brooklyn rushes to answer. So does Mr. Kibbles, who is determined not to let us out of his sight now that Mommy and Daddy are happy again and giving him all the scritches and walks he could possibly dream of. The funny part is that both of us have to walk him now, together, like a little family, or else he refuses to do his business.
I’d say Mr. Kibbles is thrilled that Brooklyn is home to stay, and he’s determined to do whatever it takes to keep us all together. I’m with Kibs on that.
The florist delivery people come in with two huge urns of pale pink, periwinkle blue, and soft yellow flowers, and other assorted greenery. Brooklyn directs them to place the urns near the sofa. My chest swells as I watch her putter around. It’s a big day for us. We’ve had several of those recently, and honestly, I’ve never been happier.
We sidestepped most of the fallout and increased drama caused by Monica’s exposé, though it seems like her story has gotten buried in the wake of the Brooklyn & Luka Saga. Which is funny, since we’ve been so focused on our marriage and growing our business together that we’ve barely kept up with the gossip anyway.
Paradoxically, celebrity media has gone even more mad for our relationship. We’ve become front and center of a hundred tabloids, but for the most part we’ve been able to set the narratives we choose—which is great, since we’re getting more interview requests and having more articles written about us than I can count. All focusing on how we’ve overcome tough challenges and come out stronger. We’re happy to let the media speculate on exactly what our special sauce is, and though we have clear boundaries set with the media now, we do try to accommodate them within reason. With Brooklyn and me acting as a unified force, I’m finding all the attention to be less of a pain in the ass than it once was.
This is the real us. The imperfect us. The messy, and yet totally in love, us.
Meanwhile, Monica continues to make money for Danica Rose Management, since Elite Image quietly stepped away from her after she spilled her story to the press. I made the decision to resign as her manager and let my former assistant Damien take over. He’s been promoted to junior agent, and even though he’s a rookie, he’s been killing it signing new talent. Monica seems to like him. I’d say it all worked out for the best.
“How does this look, Luca?” Brooklyn tilts her head and assesses the flowers. “I think I want this one over here more.” She grabs the heavy urn and moves to lift it. I rush to her side and shake my head.
“Brooklyn. Let me.”
She stands back with a little smile and directs me. “Much better. Thank you, love.”
“You’re welcome.” I twirl a lock of her hair around my finger. “I love you, too.”
My wife grins up at me, and I drop a quick kiss on her lips before rushing off to the kitchen to handle the food placement.
I don’t know how we got this lucky. I never imagined I could feel this way before. It’s like once I committed fully to my marriage and my future, the last bit of weight I’d been carrying around from all the past traumas and fuck-ups of my life just…floated off my shoulders. Now when I look at Brooklyn, I’m filled with contentment. And happiness.And hope.
We have so much ahead of us to look forward to.
“Oh, by the way,” I shout across the apartment. “A courier dropped this off last night.”
I grab a manila envelope off the kitchen counter and walk back over to hand it to her. I’ve already looked, but I can’t wait to see her expression. Her eyebrows go up as she opens the envelope and pulls out a copy ofUS Times.
Her photo graces the front of the magazine, along with a sidebar about Emzee’s mentoring program. During an interview on how we made our marriage stronger, Brooklyn seamlessly inserted a plug for Em’s work helping some of the models our father forced into prostitution, mentoring them into new careers if they don’t want to return to modeling.
Brooklyn is so passionate about it that she introduced Emzee to her friends at Heart and Home Chicago, who helped Em with all the legal steps necessary to create an official nonprofit. They’ve already raised tens of thousands of dollars to assist these young women with college tuition and career training, and Emzee hopes to branch out some day and extend services to other victims of trafficking, not just former KZ models.
My wife’s eyes go wide as she eagerly flips to the page with her interview. Mr. Kibbles starts to wiggle at her excitement, clearly thinking she’s up to something fun.
That reminds me.
“We should get ready.Celebrity Weeklywill be here in an hour to set up.”
