Yep, just getting on the tube.
Sloane
Good, because there’s a very handsome, very sad-looking daddy dom on our sofa waiting for you.
My heart stuttersin my chest, torn between panic and excitement.
Luke’s at our place?
Sloane
Yep. I let him in because it was raining but you say the word and I’ll send him packing.
I sigh. I’d hoped to have a bit more time to organise my thoughts before this conversation but I can’t deny that I want to see him.
It's fine. I’ll be there in 20 mins or so.
Bang on time, I walk through my front door and as promised, Luke is sat stiffly on our sofa holding a mug of tea.
“I’ll leave you to it,” says Sloane, squeezing my shoulder on her way out of the flat. The door snicks shut with a soft click and Luke and I are alone. He stands, goes as if to hug me, then pauses. It’s an awkward stalemate, neither of us knowing how to be with one another or exactly what to say.
“Emmy, I?—”
“No.” I hold my hand up and cut him off. “You did quite enough talking for the both of us the other night.”
His face falls but he catches it and composes himself, shuttering his pain. He stays silent and I sit on the opposite sofa, gesturing for him to do the same.
“You promised me safety, Luke.” I stare at him, hard. I don’t shield him from the pain and disappointment that’s written all over my face. He doesn’t break eye contact but his eyes are lined with silver.
“I know.”
“You promised me safety and then you left me.”
“I know.” This time his reply is a whisper.
“You made a decision for us both, without speaking to me, without even asking me what I wanted.”
He nods.
“I used to be ok with that. I used to be ok with someone else deciding for me. But I’m not that person anymore. And you know what’s ironic? You’re the one who’s made me realise I’m worthmore.”
He looks to the floor for a moment and I see the cracks in the mask deepen. He lifts his gaze back to mine as if it’s physically painful to look at me.
“I’m going to need alcohol for this. Do you want a proper drink?”
“Please.” He rises, bringing his half-drunk cuppa over to the sink.
I hand him a gin in a tin and we sit back down. On the same sofa this time. We crack open our cans in unison and I fight the urge to smile.
“I think I realised very early on that this thing between us didn’t feel like no strings sex, at least to me,” I start, summoning as much courage as I can. “Even as we worked through my stupid list, the things I felt just got deeper and deeper. But I told myself that you wouldn’t ever fall for someone like me and that you were just doing me a favour after I basically strong-armed you into it. I really believed that for a while. But I think we’ve both been lying to ourselves and to each other and… I’d like that to stop now.”
I finish my little speech and give him a lame shrug. It’s his turn to speak now.
“I’m really, really sorry,” he begins. “I fucked up. I fucked up so badly.”
He looks at his shoes again and for a heartbeat he looks like he’s about to cry. But he steels himself and continues. “I realise now that I did the worst possible thing. I thought I was protecting you. Really, I was protecting myself from seeing the look on your face when you realise I’m not enough.”
“Did you get to that conclusion on your own?” I ask, raising a brow.
