“For what it’s worth,” Luke says, his expression softening, “I wish everything was different.”
“Me too,” I whisper. My throat feels tight. I dig my nails into my palms but it doesn’t help.
Luke notices and places his hands gently over mine. “We’re doing the right thing.”
I nod. He’s right. I can’t risk hurting my sister and losing the relationship we’ve been building since I arrived here. That’s how I know it’s the right thing to do.
But if that’s the case, why does it feel like I’ve just lost something?
22
Okay, so Luke and I are on the same page. We’re going to put the wedding first and forget about the attraction between us. It might not be the page Iwantus to be on, but at least we’re both there. That’s what matters.
I set down the huge bag of supplies in Luke’s hallway and glance over my outfit. I wanted a break from Harriet 2.0 today. She’s the one who shagged Luke on that flight, who’s been fantasizing about him nonstop, who told him last night—cringe—she was wearing out her vibrator dealing with her sexual frustration. I mean,I’dnever do any of those things.
So I figured it might be a good idea to step away from the trouble she’s causing and be my old self, just for a bit. I put my jeans and a simple sweater on, and tied my hair up in a bun.
But I still wore my red lipstick. That’s really grown on me.
I wipe my sweaty hand on my jeans, then raise it to knock on Luke’s door. Nerves writhe in my belly as I wait. I’m not religious, but I silently pray that things are cool, that the intensity and chemistry that’s been woven into every glance, every word between us lately, is gone. I put off coming over here all day because I’m a coward, but I can’t put it off anymore. We need to get started on the centerpieces for the wedding.
“Hey,” Luke says when the door opens.
Oh for fuck’s sake. He’s wearing his glasses again and they look sexy as hell. It feels like some kind of cruel test from the universe.
His lips tip into a warm smile and he gestures for me to come inside. Despite everything, my shoulders relax down from my ears. I forgot how much being around him actually puts me at ease. It’s only when I get caught up in my thoughts that I start to spiral.
“Hey.” I reach for the bag of supplies but he grabs them for me, hauling them inside.
“What’s this?”
“Stuff for the centerpieces.” I follow as he sets the bag down on the white table. I begin unpacking everything and he heads into the kitchen, returning a moment later. When he hands me a can of Coke with a smile, things feel purely platonic and I’m relieved.
Definitely not disappointed.
“Thanks,” I say, taking the drink, pretending I don’t notice the way his fingers brush mine.
“You’re welcome.” His gaze rests on me for a second and I hold my breath, wondering what he’s going to say next. But he turns to the table, keeping us on task. “So, what are we doing here?”
We spend an hour assembling candles in wooden bowls with fake sprigs of fern. They’re going to be stacked on top of secondhand books—since Alex and Michael are both writers—with table numbers on little wooden stands. We work in silence and I manage to relax enough to focus on assembling the items, while Luke stacks the finished pieces into boxes for us to transport to the venue later.
“Can we take a break?” he asks as he seals up one of the boxes.
I nod, pleased with what we’ve done so far. “Sure.” We both lean back in our chairs and stretch. My gaze strays across the table and collides with his. I clear my throat. “So, er, how’s Donnie? Any more prison breaks?”
Luke laughs. “No. I think I’ve figured out how to keep him in his tank. But then, I thought that the last time, so…” He shrugs, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smile. His eyes glide over to the TV, then back to me, and he stands. “Want to play a game?”
“What kind of game?”
“A video game. The game I designed.”
“Oh,” I say, a little taken aback. I can’t deny that I’ve been curious about his game, and games feel like a safe space for us—something we can do that won’t lead to us battling the impulse to rip each other’s clothes off. Especially if I’m staring at a screen instead of his face. Or his arms. Or any part of him, really.
I rise to my feet. “Sure. I probably won’t be very good, but I’ll give it a go.”
His face splits in a grin and we both take a seat on the leather sofa. “Normally you’d play this on a computer, but I’m testing the console version because we’re releasing it soon. I hope you like it.” He hands me the controller and the headset, looking kind of nervous.
I smile, wanting to reassure him. “I’m sure I will.”
