Chapter 15: What About a Trip?

Luciana's voice pulled me from a fitful sleep. The early morning light, pale and gray, filtered through the blinds. I was in our bed, alone, the sheets tangled around my legs. The sound was crisp, clear, coming from the living room: a different language, I thought, probably Spanish. It was a rapid-fire conversation, punctuated by moments of a sharp, commanding tone.

I winced as her voice rose. Whoever was on the other end of that call was getting an earful. I stumbled out of bed, pulling on a pair of sweatpants, and walked to the bathroom. The face staring back at me in the mirror was haggard, my eyes bloodshot, my hair a mess. I attempted to smile, but it came out as a grimace. Then, my eyes landed on the sea of unfamiliar products and makeup on the counter.

Emma's simple, familiar collection of skincare and makeup was gone, replaced by a daunting array of luxury creams and serums in sleek, minimalist packaging. I picked up a heavy glass bottle, the label written in a language I didn't understand. The scent was clean, expensive, and utterly foreign.

I snorted, trying to see it as a set of accessories to a character, a costume. That was the cost of the miracle. The thrill of getting Emma back was now replaced by the harsh reality that the woman I loved wasn't going to come back. Not as herself. Not physically.

"Okay," I said to my reflection. "This is the deal."

I walked out of the bathroom and into the living room. Emma—Luciana—was standing by the window, phone pressed to her ear, a coffee mug in her other hand. A laptop sat open on the coffee table, the screen filled with charts and graphs. She was fully dressed, already in business mode, wearing a crisp white blouse and tailored gray trousers.

I crossed my arms and smirked as she paced back and forth. She was a complete stranger, and yet, I knew the person behind her eyes. I just had to get used to the masks. I had to accept them.

"No, no, no," she snapped into the phone. "That is not acceptable. I told you, the launch is in two weeks. Two weeks! I need those samples by Friday. Not next week. Friday." There was a pause as she finally noticed me, her dark eyes meeting mine. A small, knowing smile played on her lips.

"Call me when you have a solution," she said, her tone dismissive, and hung up without another word.

I chuckled. "Sounds like someone's having a good morning."

She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. "It's always a good morning when you're the one in charge." She walked toward me, her movements fluid and confident, and wrapped her arms around my waist, pulling me into a hug. I held her, my hands resting on her back, feeling the warmth of her body through the thin fabric of her blouse. "Or always a bad one? I can't tell at this point. It's just morning," she whispered, her voice muffled against my chest.

She breathed in deeply, her fingers clenching the fabric of my shirt. She bit her lower lip, then pulled back. "Fuck you smell so good..."

"I haven't had a shower yet," I pointed out, laughing. "I smell bad."

"You smell like you," she said, her voice husky, a hungry look in her eyes. "And it's driving me crazy." She stepped back. "And I can't afford crazy right now." She gestured to the laptop on the table. "I have a company to run."

I stepped closer, my hands resting on her hips. "Or I can fuck you real quick. Clear your head."

She looked at me, her expression a mixture of desire and frustration. "I have three meetings back-to-back, Calvin. With people who are very, very important." She bit her lower lip again. "And making me less Luciana and more Emma would be quite unproductive right now."

I let go of her, my hands held up in surrender. "Right. Work." I walked to the kitchen, my bare feet cool on the hardwood floor. "Did you have breakfast yet?"

"Just coffee," she said, following me. "I'm not hungry."

I opened the fridge, pulling out the eggs and bacon. "I am."

She leaned against the counter, watching me with a curious expression. "You seem more relaxed this morning."

"I'm trying," I said, cracking an egg into a pan. "To accept the situation."

She was quiet for a moment, the sizzle of the bacon filling the silence. Her phone buzzed in her hand. She glanced at it, her expression hardening.

"Work," she said, almost as an apology.

"Go on," I told her. "Don't let me get in the way of your three million a year."

She smirked and turned around, her phone to her ear as she walked back toward the living room.

"Hey!" I called out after her. She turned, raising an eyebrow. "Can I squeeze myself somewhere in your schedule or is your day full?"

"Un segundo, ¿eh?" she said into her phone. She covered the speaker with her hand, her eyes softening. "I'm afraid my day is going to be very busy, Calvin. But my night... My night is all yours." She winked at me, then, right as she was about to walk away, she paused and smirked. "Actually, how about we go on a little trip together? I've got a team in Paris, currently, that needs a bit of… motivation. Tomorrow?"

Paris. The word hung in the air between us. A trip to Paris. With my dead wife, in the body of a rich, beautiful, businesswoman.

We'd always talked about going. A dream trip, for one of our anniversaries, maybe. Something we saved for, planned for. Now, it was just a throwaway line, a business expense. She could afford it. We could afford it.

"Hell yes," I said, my lips curling into a smile.

Hey there! This was chapter 15 out of 28. I will post two to three chapters a week.

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