"I'm sorry, what?"
"She sold pictures of her feet online.Before Derek.During Derek too, probably."
Luke is staring at me."Your ex left you for someone who sells foot photography?"
"Sold.Past tense.She's management now."
"That's..."He shakes his head."I don't have words for what that is."
"Flexible?"
"Sage."
"Sorry.I process trauma through inappropriate humor."
"Is it difficult?”His voice is gentle now."Seeing his engagement announcement?"
I consider lying, but something about the darkness of the car and the warmth of his presence makes honesty easier."It's...complicated.I don't want him back.God, no.But seeing him move on so publicly, so quickly, while I'm..."
"While you're what?"
"Wearing a three-year-old dress to a fake date while my inn falls apart around me."
"Business non-date," he corrects."And your inn is not falling apart.Bookings are up seventeen percent this week."
"You calculated my booking percentage?"
"I calculate everything."He pauses."And this isn't fake."
"No?"
"No."His hand finds mine in the darkness.“I’m not exactly sure what this non-date is, but it's not fake."
I look down at our joined hands, his thumb tracing small circles on my skin."Luke?"
"Yes?"
"Thank you.For coming tonight.For fixing my music.For..."I motion."This."
"You're welcome."He squeezes my hand.
We're still holding hands when the car pulls up to the Four Seasons.
The hotel is lit up like a jewel box, and valets rush to open our door.
"Ready?"Luke asks.
"As I'll ever be."
He helps me out of the car, and I manage not to trip over my own feet, which feels like a victory.
The Seattle skyline glitters behind us, and the brisk autumn air carries the scent of rain—maybe even snow—as the temperature drops.
I smooth my dress one more time, Luke's hand warm on the small of my back as he guides me toward the entrance.
"You really do look beautiful," he says quietly, just for me.
"Careful," I tease, trying to calm my racing heart."That sounds dangerously close to non-business conversation."
