“I’m pretty sure you said that last time.” She laughs before turning and leaving.
I start packing up my stuff to leave when my phone dings to remind me I’m meeting up with Luke in less than twenty minutes. Luckily, it’s at a restaurant close to my office and within walking distance.
“Oh, also…” I glance up to see Layla pop her head back in. “If Arlo says I tried to hit on him, I did.” She blushes, and I shake my head.
“You know the rules, Layla,” I reprimand, surprised, though, that he turned down someone as young and eager as Layla. “No play, at least until you’ve secured the deal.”
“Have you seen that man?” She flicks her brown hair over her shoulder and then turns and walks off. I follow her out of my office and pass her as she sits back at her desk. Then I walk outside and head down the street.
I check the time as I push open the door to the restaurant. I’m early as usual. Luke is either on time or late. He is never early, and I hate that a lot. Being on time I can deal with, but I think the trauma from growing up with parents who were always late made me arrive everywhere early.
Making my way to the bar, I order a French martini while I wait. I’m halfway through my drink when Luke finally arrives, a little late. He leans in and kisses my cheek, his hand finding my lower back, his fingers dragging over it, and he takes the seat at the bar next to me. Luke waves the bartender over, and I notice his expensive watch flash under the fluorescent lighting.
Luke has a boy-next-door look when he wears a suit. He has a nice, symmetrical face with straight white teeth and hair that is always fluffy and perfect without having to do anything to it.
But he is not my person.
He is my bed warmer.
Nothing more.
With Luke, everything feels flat. Dull. He never goes out of his way for me.
Romance? Doesn’t exist.
Sex? Sure, we have it, but it’s forgettable.
I should have broken it off ages ago, knowing there was no future for us.
“Looking ravishing as always,” he says after giving the bartender his drink order.
“Thank you. Did you just finish work?” Luke is an investment banker, and while I don’t care to understand any of that, it’s polite to ask.
“I did, and I’m eager to get going.” He touches his tie, adjusting it slightly, which usually means he wants to fuck. He always makes the same motion before he says something about getting me back to his place. So I stop him before he can.
“Luke, it’s been fun… this thing you and I have had going on.” I wave a finger between us. “But it needs to end. We’re wasting time. I want marriage, Luke. And I don’t want it with you.” I know that’s brutal, but we’ve had this discussion many times, and it’s not something he wants.
The bartender drops off Luke’s drink.
“Can we discuss this tomorrow?” Luke asks and touches his tie again.
“No! This is it, Luke.”
“So, you don’t want to go back to my place?” he pushes.
“No. I have work to catch up on.”
He picks up his drink and downs it in one swallow before he stands. Then he bends down and presses his lips to my neck. I turn ever so slightly, and as I do, I find a pair of dark eyes belonging to a man who’s sitting in a corner booth, locked on me.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come with me? We can end this the right way.” His words barely register as I stare across the room. Arlo Graves is sitting there, a drink in his hand and his lips pressed in a flat line. I break the connection first, my gaze landing back on Luke, who’s fidgeting with his damn tie. Why can’t he just stand still?
“No,” I reply tersely, just as I feel Luke’s lips touch my skin before he pulls away. His expression is calm and unaffected, which tells me he’s as heartbroken over all of this as I am, which is to say, not at all.
“Well, it was a pleasure, Cora.”
I don’t watch Luke leave. Instead, I turn my attention back to my drink. There’s a strange fluttering sensation in my chest, but I know it has nothing to do with Luke and me parting ways. Looking up into the mirror above the bar in front of me, I find the source—his midnight glare, still solely focused on me.
But once more, I’m the one who looks away first.
