“I see you, Millie.”
I gasped and backed away.Luka was here.In Colombo.Again.
I hadn’t known he was coming.I’d talked to him a few days ago, right before Cormac and Keelie’s wedding, but he hadn’t called yesterday, and now I knew why.He’d been on a plane for…I tried to remember.
“Let me in.Please,” he said.“I’ve been traveling for almost forty hours, and I left right after Cormac’s wedding.”
Luka’s voice was deep and resonated in my chest, along with a warmth I hadn’t felt since I’d last seen him.That settled in my middle but radiated outward.I was shocked by how much I enjoyed the sensation.
I’d already flicked the lock and turned the handle before I realized I was following his order.“Y-you’re…”
“Here.Yes.To see you and Bree.”
His hair was longer, his eyes intense even with the shadows under them.He was so beautiful.He wore a cotton T-shirt and cargo shorts.Those would also be made from cotton, which was ninety-nine percent cellulose.Cellulose was a long chain of glucose molecules where the carbon connected to oxygen… My mini science lesson didn’t stop the vise that gripped my chest.Luka was here.I wasn’t ready to see him.I was a mess of longing and anxiety.
When he leaned in closer, my fingers fluttered, desperate to touch his stubbled cheek.“But…” I settled my hands on my bump under my cotton tank top, needing to ground myself.My belly, warm and rigid, encased our sleeping baby.
“The season is over, as you know.I was in Hawaii for Cormac and Keelie’s wedding, and I had to decide—go back to my lonely condo in Houston or come see you.”His eyes filled with yearning, his gaze lingering on my pregnant belly, which seemed to grow each day.He shut his eyes, anguish in his expression.“I’ve hated missing so much of your pregnancy.Now, will you please let me inside so we can, you know, talk?”
I licked my lips.“I…” I was stuck on the fact that he’d traveled nearly two full days to get here.He must have spoken to me right before he caught the flight.
We’d been on good terms these past couple months, but I’d made it clear I wasn’t coming back to Houston.I’d thought that was the end of his attempts to connect in person.I should have known NHL players were tenacious.
“It’s okay, Millie,” he said.“I just want to talk to you.You can do this.”
He said what my mind told me, but what my body and heart feared were lies.Still, I shuffled back enough for him to step inside, which he did once he grabbed his duffle from the floor next to his feet.
He shut the door behind him, dropping his bag and doing the locks.He turned back in time to find me swaying, still blinking with shock.
Seeing Luka Stol, my baby daddy, in person, after all this time, made me break-out-in-hives, barf-up-my-guts apprehensive.And I’d done neither of those since I’d hit fourteen weeks of pregnancy—before he’d come out for Bree’s sonogram.I wanted to keep it that way.
This second trimester had been much, much better on my hormones than the first.I refused to consider what could happen as I moved more deeply into the third trimester—or the fact that I was there now.
“You didn’t mention you were coming,” I said.“When we last talked.”
We’d spoken regularly, so Luka was up to date on Bree, but we hadn’t discussedusoutside of the fact that he wanted to be present for the baby’s birth and planned to take some time off during the preseason to help me with the early months after Bree’s arrival.
“I couldn’t stay away,” he said.
My pulse fluttered in my neck, and I felt as I did each time Luka tried to bring up where Bree would be born, where we’d live.My mind spun with the unknown, further increasing my fretting.
He peered down at me, his attention focused, as if he were serious about me.
Me.
Tch.As if.
Yes, I’d heard what Ida Jane said all those months ago, and yes, I’d checked the gossip sites to see if Luka was with anyone else, and he wasn’t.But that didn’t mean I trusted him to want me.
I was so different now than when we’d first met.More had changed than just my growing belly and larger breasts.I was… Well, as Ida Jane had put it the other day, I was a hot mess.I’d thrown myself into my work so I wouldn’t have to focus on my reasons for leaving Houston.
That hadn’t worked the way I’d thought it would.In fact, I’d concluded that I’d made a mistake.A big one.I hadn’t faced the trauma caused by Trent’s actions, nor had I spoken to my father since I accepted the transfer to Sri Lanka.
That, too, had been foolhardy because I’d let Trent’s actions—and my father’s complicity—create a narrative around me: that I was a victim.
But I wasn’t.
I was not.Nor would I ever be.
