And he’d shattered my heart into tiny pieces the night I left his place for the last time.
In some ways, I was reliving that sweet wooing with Luka, and his gentlemanly ways drove me bonkers.In fact, I wanted to rip out my hair almost as much as I needed to kiss him.
At least he’d let me treat him to a meal he didn’t make or clean up himself.Now that I’d paid the bill, though, he came over and helped me from my seat.I didn’t need the help—yet—but I enjoyed his touch and the admiring looks I received from women nearby.
“Thanks,” I said, smiling up at him.Could he see the pulse pounding in my neck?Did he know how nervous he made me?
“Let’s get you home,” he said, slipping a proprietary arm around my waist.
The buskers played on most street corners, creating a lovely musical backdrop to the soft breeze and spiced air.We strolled down the street, and I smiled at the familiar melody.
“Wait!Is that John Denver?”Luka asked.
“Sure is, hockey man.They love playing that song.”I hummed along to “Take Me Home, Country Roads,” thrilled by the beauty of a night in Colombo.I liked this city, mostly because I felt safe—something I didn’t always feel in Houston, even though I missed the city’s frenetic pace and dual downtowns.Mostly, though, I missed Ida Jane and, yes, Luka.A pang hit me hard as I realized we’d be separated again soon.
After the trip back to Houston for Ida Jane’s wedding, I’d be alone.
My hand went to my belly.Not alone.Just…not whole.And that was my fault.I should tell Luka why I was so against returning.I really should.Yet I didn’t want to ruin the happy bubble we were in here, now.
Soon.
I snuggled closer to his side, forcing away those difficult thoughts as we walked another block.A group of people gasped and pointed, and Luka stiffened, his arm tightening around my shoulder.But I simply smiled.He was about to find out just how much both locals and tourists from other parts of Asia liked Americans.
“They want to take a photo with you,” I murmured.
“I noticed.Is that okay with you?”he asked.
Warmth flowed through my chest at his question.He’d ignore them or tell themnofor me.But I didn’t want to say no; I wanted Luka to get the full experience.
I nodded, and Luka was a good sport, smiling as he stood behind the group of five.Another group came over and then another.I took the photos for all of them, biting my lip to keep from laughing as Luka became more and more shocked.
“I had no idea the NHL was so popular here,” he said.
I barely held in my laughter as another group trotted toward us, waving exuberantly.“It’s not.They just like you because you’re big and blond.”
He gawped.“Not because I’m a professional athlete?”
I shook my head, biting back the giggle that crawled up my throat.“No.You look American.They likethat.”
His eyes went wide.“Are you sure?”
I nodded.“Oh, yeah.Hear what they’re saying?”
“American,” a few people crowed, pointing.
He grabbed my hand and marched me through the crowd.
Luka
I wassuchan idiot.I growled, hating that I’d shown myself to be the bumbling, self-aggrandizing ass I clearly was.
Millie hadn’t laughed at me, but amusement had lit her eyes.And I was the father of her child.She had to be questioning that, too.I was so full of myself that I assumed everyone in the world knew my face and name?
Finally, unable to stall in the bathroom any longer, I opened the door and padded across the airy, cool space of her condo.
“Are you okay?”she asked, her voice tired.
“Yeah, sorry.I was…”Flagellating myself.
