Luke makes a small, amused sound. “Dad’s notquiteas bad as Darth Vader. But yeah, he doesn’t get me at all. And Dena’s even worse. Your parents don’t always love your life choices, but you at least expect your wife to stand by you. She put up with my gaming for the most part, but when this opportunity came up, she told me what she really thought—that gaming was juvenile and pathetic. You know what she said when I told her I wanted kids? That I was an overgrown child and she didn’t wantmore kids.” A bitter laugh leaves him. “She kept saying it was immature to give up such a good job to pursue a career in gaming, but it felt more like… like finally doing what was right for me helped me grow up and find my place in the world. It wasn’t long after that I realized we’d never be right for each other, and asked for a divorce.”
I absorb his words, tracing my finger in a figure eight over his forearm. I can’t for the life of me understand how she could tell him his passions were pathetic. My heart hurts at the thought of him being shamed for the things he loves, because I know all too well what that’s like.
After a while Luke adds, “And she hated Donnie.”
“What? How can someone not love a tinyNinja Turtle?”
“I know, right? Dena wanted me to get rid of him, but I’ve had him since I was eighteen. He’s my buddy. Turns out he’s going to outlast her. Ah, well. He’s nicer than her anyway.”
“Why did you guys get married then, if you were so wrong for each other?”
“It wasn’t all bad, and when you’re with someone for so long, you get comfortable. We were turning thirty and everyone around us was getting married. It just sort of seemed like the next step, you know? In hindsight, I don’t think we really thought it through. Because if I had, I’m sure I would have realized it was a mistake. It became clear after we moved in together, though. For a start, she made me keep all my games and books in storage. And the TV—she considered it a huge compromise that I had my gaming consoles in the living room, even though they were out of sight. When we went to dinner parties, she used to tell people I worked in ‘entertainment.’ She kept it vague because she was embarrassed that I design video games.”
I tilt my head. “That’s exactly what you told me on the plane.”
He chuffs an ashamed laugh. “I know. It just slipped out. But honestly, I think I was embarrassed to tell you the truth. You were this beautiful woman and I worried, I don’t know, maybe you would think it was lame.”
I kiss his jaw. “No way.”
“Well, that’s before I knew you were obsessed with board games and had read all my favorite books,” he teases. Then his expression softens. “You’re so comfortable with who you are, Harriet. You just accept yourself and the things you love. It’s really inspiring.”
Huh. I’ve never thought of myself like that. After the way I was tormented in high school, there are some people I definitely don’t share this side of myself with. But Luke’s right, I have let my geek flag fly around him. I guess that’s just what Harriet 2.0 is like. She’s confident enough to be herself.
“It’s weird, when I think about it,” he continues. “I didn’t know any of that stuff about you when we met, but I was so drawn to you. Almost like I knew we had those things in common, without actually knowing it. Does that sound insane?”
“No,” I murmur, smiling to myself. “I had the same thought.”
“Then the more I learned about you…” He shakes his head, leaning back to look at the ceiling with a sigh. “I can’t explain it. I’ve never connected with someone like this. It’s not just physical, it’s…” He pauses as if searching for the right words, and I take his hand and thread my fingers through his.
“I know. I feel it too.”
He rolls his head to the side, looking at me. Something wordlessly passes between us and my heart tumbles. Suddenly, it feels like we are straying into dangerous territory.
Luke swallows, glancing away. “Have you thought any more about your board game cafe idea?”
I let my breath out in a long trickle, gazing up at the stars on his ceiling. “I have. I really want to do it—and, who knows? Maybe it could work in New York,” I say, remembering my decision last night to be braver. “But… every time I think about it, I feel overwhelmed. There’s just too much I don’t know. I would have a lot to learn about business and it just feels so intimidating.”
Luke nods, his expression gentle as he contemplates me. “Yeah, I get that. But you’re intelligent; you could pick all of that up easily. If you really want it, you can make it happen.”
I consider his words, wondering how, after all the trouble with his dad and his wife not supporting or encouraging his dreams, he still manages to be this positive and optimistic. As I gaze at him, I realize he means what he’s saying—that I could actually do it. And I almost believe him, too.
“I’ll think about it,” I promise, tilting my face up so I can kiss him.
“Good.” He slips his other arm around me and pulls my body close to his.
Our kiss deepens and I slide my hands up his back, surprised to find I’m aching to feel him inside me again, so soon. But he feels the same, and it’s not long before he’s on top of me, nudging my legs apart and entering me with a groan. This time it’s slower, and we kiss passionately, taking our time to relish every sensation, fleeting as it is, before the whole thing comes to an end.
As I’m dressing afterward, he watches me from his spot under the blanket. “Do you have to go?”
“It’s late.” I pull my dress on, fighting the urge to crawl under the covers with him and snuggle into his arms. As much as I love being with him, I know that spending the night would be crossing a line—a line I don’t want to go anywhere near. At least if I leave now, I won’t be waking up next to him, cementing him in my brain as some kind of permanent fixture.
No; if I go now, I can wake up alone, as I usually do. It’s much safer.
Not to mention Alex would wonder where on earth I’d got to overnight. How would I explain that one to her?
“Yeah, okay,” he mutters, staring at his hands. He wraps the red throw around his waist as he follows me out of the bedroom.
I pad over to the table and pick up my handbag with a smile, pleased we got the centerpieces finished. But when I turn to go, my gaze snags on the ringbox. My heart plummets.
