“Um… yes.”Understatement.
She lets out a little shriek. “Well, what’s happening with him then? Are you going to do it again?”
My smile slips. “Oh, no. We probably shouldn’t.”
“But you want to?”
My head nods without my consent and I curse myself for being so weak. A week and a half ago I didn’t even know this guy, and I didn’t spend most of my waking minutes picturing his lips on mine. I was perfectly happy in my own bubble, disappearing into make-believe worlds in my books, existing only to go to work and come home, living a life that was safe and predictable, perhaps a little boring, but comforting in its own way. I was perfectly happy.
But… was I really? I thought I was, but after this past week—after tonight—I’m not sure. Meeting Luke has changed me. I’ve never connected with someone like this, I’ve never felt this kind of chemistry—and we’ve already covered the other thing he’s helped me with. But it’s not just sexual, it’s everything. When I’m with him, I feel like someone else. Someone who isn’t quite so afraid, someone full of life. I feel like a better me.
“If you want him,” Steph says, interrupting my thoughts, “you should go for him.”
I trace my finger around my teacup, thinking about this—about what it would be like if I showed up at his place tomorrow and told him that I want to do it again. And again. That I don’t want to stop.
A thrill shoots up my spine at the thought. It’s the same sensation I felt after going on the trapeze, the kind that was equal parts terrifying and exhilarating. The kind that tells me to do it.
But guilt is tugging at me, reminding me how important it is that I get everything organized for Alex, that I don’t do something stupid and ruin her wedding. After all, Luke is going to be there with Dena and he’s insistent he has to pretend to be married. I might wish that wasn’t the case, but it’s what Luke wants to do and I’m going to respect that.
I rub my face, exhaling. “It’s not that easy, Steph. With the wedding and everything… it’s risky.” And as much as I hate to think about it, I’m leaving in a week. After the wedding is over, I have to go home and pretend that none of this has happened.
I swallow, feeling empty at the thought of going back to my old life. My life without Luke. If anything, that makes me want to make every moment with him count, to do everything I can with him.
“Well, think of it this way,” Steph says. “Would you be okay if this was it? If you never kissed him again?”
My chest constricts. “No.”
“Exactly. So what if it’s a little risky? I’m sure you can manage the wedding at the same time. You’d never let this get in the way.”
“Maybe,” I mumble, unconvinced.
“Besides, what did Hermione say?” Steph pauses, thinking. “Something about how it’s exciting to break the rules?”
I laugh. “I can’t believe you remember that.”
“You’ve made me watch those films with you a hundred times. I knowwaymore about Hermione than I’d like.” Steph rolls her eyes, but her lips twist with a little smile.
“Right. But you’re forgetting one thing—they got caught. So…”
“Oh shit, yeah. Okay then, think about it as Harriet 2.0—shewouldn’t let anything stop her.” Steph peers close at the screen for a moment then frowns. “Shit, my boss is calling. I’d better take it. But I want a full update on this soon, okay?”
“Okay.” I end the call with a sigh.
When I get back to the apartment, my suitcase is sitting inside the front door. I haven’t seen it since I checked it into the airport back in New Zealand, and it takes me a second to recognize it.
“Hey.” Alex glances up from her spot on the sofa where she’s working on her laptop, her face lit by the glow of the screen.
“My suitcase,” I say flatly, slipping my boots off.
“Yeah. It came for you this evening.”
I look at it, feeling an odd sensation behind my sternum. So much has happened since I got on that flight, it feels like it doesn’t belong to me anymore.
“You must be relieved,” Alex says, tapping away on her keyboard. “You’ve got all your stuff, finally.”
I don’t reply. Instead, I drag the suitcase into the bedroom and close the door behind me. Hauling it up on the bed, I enter the code to unlock the padlock on the zipper and pop it open. Inside are all my things, undisturbed, as if frozen in time: my jeans, my simple T-shirts, my plain cotton underwear that doesn’t match, my sensible shoes—and of course, several books.
And as much as I recognize all of the items, I’m not sure I recognize the woman who wore them anymore. The objects that I carefully selected to bring with me, the things that once comforted and defined me, no longer have the same meaning. They feel like relics of a bygone era, props from an old movie I once starred in.
