I followed-no, hid-behind Luca as we walked along the breezeway and through the side door.
"I look like four-day-old s**t," I mumbled as we walked inside.
My ratty hair was still down in tangles. I hadn't washed my face that morning and I was adorned by the all the charm and glamor of an old t-shirt and gym shorts.
"Very cute four-day-old s**t," Luca whispered back to me.
I followed him closely into the kitchen. As I peeked around Luca's shoulder, I made eye contact with a
woman who looked to be in her late-forties. With bronzed skin, dark hair and green eyes just like her son, I knew immediately who she was.
She smiled widely and ran over.
"Hi! I'm Ana, Luca's mom. It's so nice to finally meet you," she said, grabbing me.
I picked up on the slight accent entwined with
her voice.
