He didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push either. He just handed me my coffee and settled into the armchair across from me.
“Thanks,” I said, wrapping my hands around the warm mug.
“It’s just coffee.”
We sat in silence for a moment, the fire crackling. Outside, I could hear the wind picking up, rattling the old windows in their frames. Luke didn’t try to fill the quiet with small talk or pointless reassurances, and somehow that made it easier to say what came next.
“This has been a really long year,” I said finally.
“I imagine it has.”
I laughed, but it came out sounding slightly hysterical rather than the light, breezy tone I’d aimed for. “Sorry. I’m just … I’m trying really hard not to have a breakdown in your living room, and it’s not going great.”
“You can have a breakdown if you need to,” Luke said quietly. “I won’t judge.”
And that simple statement delivered with such sincerity was what broke me.
“Last December—” I paused, took a breath. I wasn’t quite sure why I was telling him this, but I seemed unable to stop. “Last December, I was living in this gorgeous Queen Anne Victorian with my fiancé. Planning our wedding and running my shop—the one my parents opened in the sixties, and I’d taken over five years ago. I had dinner with them every Sunday. Coffee dates with my best friend. Everything was … it was good. You know?”
Luke nodded, saying nothing.
“And now?” I gestured vaguely with my coffee mug. “Now I live in a house with shag carpet from 1952, and I work out of an attic space that definitely has mold. My best friend is in Barcelona with her boyfriend. My parents are in Florida playing golf. And my fiancé is …” I swallowed hard. “Wherever he is. With someone who’s not me.”
“With his sister’s best friend,” Luke said, his voice tight with something that sounded like anger.
I blinked at him. “How did you?—?”
A faint flush crept up his neck, and he rubbed the back of his neck. There was that tell again. “I hate gossip,” he said quietly. “But I asked about you—professionally, I mean—and well … you know how small towns can be. I’m sorry you had to go through that so publicly.”
Right. Of course. Everyone in Mistletoe Bay knew how Eric had suddenly realized he was actually in love with a woman he’d literally known her entire life. How I’d already paid for the reception venue, the photographer, and the cake. How I’d had to stand at the front of the church and tell everyone what had happened.
“It was mortifying,” I said softly. “Standing there in my dress, realizing he wasn’t coming. Having to face everyone and tell them the wedding was off. And then … God, then everyone wanted totalkabout it. To offer their condolences as if someone had died. To ask if I was okay, if I needed anything.”
“Did you?” Luke asked, his full attention on me.
I wasn’t sure I followed. “What?”
His brows drew together like he was trying to solve a puzzle. “Need anything, I mean.”
I stared at him. No one had ever asked me that. They’d offered casseroles and sympathetic looks and advice I didn’t want, but no one had asked what I actuallyneeded.
“I needed people to stop looking at me like I was broken,” I said finally. “I needed to not have to explain what happened over and over. I needed …” I trailed off, my eyes stinging.
“My best friend tried. She really did. But she was caught between comforting me and not bad-mouthing Eric’s family, since their brothers are married. It was messy and awkward, and I ended up just … shutting down. Telling everyone I was fine when I wasn’t.” I took a shaky breath. “I needed someone who wasn’t tangled up in all of it. Someone who could just sit with me and acknowledge that it sucked.”
“It absolutely sucks that he did that to you,” Luke said simply. “And it fucking sucks that your shop closed and your parents moved and your best friend left. All of it. It sucks.”
A half-laugh, half-sob bubbled up and slipped out. “Yeah. It really does.”
“And now your car won’t start,” he added.
“And now my car won’t start,” I agreed. “Because apparently the universe isn’t done kicking me while I’m down.”
Luke leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “For what it’s worth, you don’t seem broken to me. You seem likesomeone who’s been through a lot and is still standing. That’s strong as hell.”
My vision blurred with tears I couldn’t seem to stop. “I don’t feel strong.”
“I once read somewhere that the strongest people never do.”
