22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
ANDI
May
I’m sonervous about talking to him that I’m literally shaking from my frayed nerves. Will he see me? Will he turn me away? Is she in there with him? My heart is beating so hard, I can hear the blood rushing through my ears. The roaring and whooshing almost drown out every other sound, except for my breathing that’s out of control. Part of me wants to turn and go back to the elevator as quickly as possible, knowing that if this doesn’t go well, I won’t be able to handle it. The other part of me, the part that has me standing here at his hotel room door, wants to fight tooth and nail for him.
For the love of my life.
For Luke.
Before I lose my nerve and leave, I consciously will my hand to knock on the door. I wait impatiently for several seconds before I hear footsteps approaching. The peephole darkens, and I know I’m being scrutinized. Here’s the moment of truth, the moment I find out if he ever wants to even look at me again. Or if he’ll just turn and walk away without even opening the door.
My heart jumps, my pulse races, and my breath seizes in my chest as the door slowly opens. My hands are shaking even harder now, and I’m not sure how I’m still standing. It feels like an eternity since I’ve taken a breath. My lungs are burning, desperate for a gulp of air, and my eyes are already watering.
The face that stands before me isn’t Luke’s.
I exhale forcefully, and I feel the fight leaving me along with my breath. Is this the wrong room? I look at the number again, but it’s correct. He sent someone else to the door to send me away, to make sure I get the message. My heart wrenches in my chest, making me want to grab my chest in physical pain and cry out loudly. The man standing in front of me eyes me speculatively before speaking.
“Yes? Can I help you?” the large man asks with a mixture of disdain and curiosity.
“I need to speak with Luke, please.”
“And you are?”
“Andi Morgan.”
Recognition lights in his eyes and he nods curtly. “Just a moment. I’ll ask Mr. Woods if he’s accepting visitors.”
He closes the door in my face before I have a chance to reply, and I’m left to wait again. But this time, I know he’s on his way to tell Luke I’m here. When that door opens again, there will be no room left for doubt or hope if he says he doesn’t want to see me. No chance for explanations. No chance for reconciliation. No chance for a new beginning.
The click of the doorknob turning startles me as Jeeves opens the door again. I don’t know his name, so he gets an unattractive nickname to help me feel better.
“Mr. Woods is in the main living area, straight ahead.”
I kind of wanted him to say,“Mr. Woods will see you now,” but that may be a little too weird for the circumstances. And this is just my odd little way of distracting myself from the task at hand.
Jeeves holds the door open for me to enter and then leaves the room when I’m out of his way. I’m glad he’s gone, and I hope that Luke’s alone. Jeeves didn’t say anything abouther,so I don’t know if she’s with him or not. It doesn’t really matter, though. Either way, I’m here to say what needs to be said. Whatever happens then is completely up to Luke.
As soon as I enter the living area of his suite, I hear the music playing softly through the gifts I got him last Christmas. When we were still happy together. The song is our song, “Familiar Taste of Poison,” and it gives me hope. He’s playing our song—the one that signifies our first acknowledgment of feelings for each other. The song that has been our signature song for our entire relationship. Hope wells up in my heart and emotions clog my throat because he’s stillmyLuke.
He’s standing with his back to me as he stares out the window into the Vegas night. We’re too high up for him to be able to make out any of the people below, and from his reflection in the glass, I can tell he’s deep in thought. Thoughts of us? Thoughts of why I’m here? Good thoughts?
Please, God, let them be good thoughts.
His button-down dress shirt is stretched tight across his broad shoulders and tapers down to his narrow waist. His dress pants fit him perfectly, accentuating his muscular legs and equally muscular ass. I can’t help but wonder if he’s been out on a date with her, with him being dressed nicely. The thought of them together absolutely kills me.
Clearing my throat that’s dangerously close to closing up on me, I begin to speak.
“Luke,” my voice cracks.
Without turning to face me, he speaks. “Oh, wait. Let me change the song to something more appropriate.”
Walking to his right to the desk, he picks up the stereo remote and hits the button to scroll through his music. The song that blasts through the speakers next shreds my heart and dashes any hope I foolishly had for us.
“You Give Love a Bad Name” by Bon Jovi blares through the room, echoes off the walls, and rips my heart into a million pieces. I can’t help but think my life will never be the same again.
