“Are you okay?” Luka asks. I don’t know how to answer him. I’m anything but okay. The party was a disaster. I knew it would be; it was only one of the reasons I tried to get Luka to keep me home. Still, even I couldn’t have guessed how epically wrong things went. “Petal, you can’t just not talk to me.”

“I don’t know what you expect me to say.” I whisper.

I have my eyes glued on the steering wheel of Luka’s truck. His hands are clenched so tight against it that his knuckles are white in color. The entire cab of the truck radiates with anger. I can’t be sure if it’s directed at me or his father. I have a feeling the majority of it is at me. It’s not that I expected him to take my side—not really. I just hoped. I seem to do a lot of hoping around Luka.

“I expect you to answer the question. Are you okay?”

“The baby’s fine,” I tell him, avoiding the question as best as I can.

Tonight at the party when his father cornered me in the study, I was scared. No. That’s not right. The truth was that I was terrified, even if I didn’t know why.

I soon found out, though. My stomach churns as I remember the vile things he said to me under his breath, all while posing for pictures with a smile on his face.

“You make him worse, you know.” Luka’s words cut at what little self-confidence I have left. He’s blaming me. Of course he has no idea the horrible things his father says to me, about me… about my mother. I start to tell him, but would it really make that much of a difference? I’m scared that if I do tell him, he’d still blame me, and that would kill me. I hate that I’m not brave enough to try.

“You would think that,” I whisper, turning my head to look out the window instead.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, Luka. It means nothing.”

“Petal, you screamed at him in front of the press, and then you slapped him. He shouldn’t have grabbed you, but—”

“Don’t you dare defend him to me, Luka, and don’t you make excuses for him. He’s an asshole, and I should have shoved my foot up his ass!” Anger hits me and pushes me past the shock now.

“God, now you’re starting to sound like your mother.”

“There are worse things, Luka,” I whisper, laying my head against the seat.

“I don’t know what it could be.”

We ride back to the house in silence. It’s just as well. If I said anything, it would be to tell him that he sounds just like his father, and that’s much, much worse. In fact, it’s downright heartbreaking.

I rub my stomach wondering for the millionth time if my mother was right. Maybe I shouldn’t have gotten married. How can this atmosphere be healthy for a child? As I look at the tense figure of my husband and the way he’s still clutching the steering wheel, I sigh.

It’s not even healthy for the adults.

* * *

Present:

“You’re being awfully quiet, Petal,” Luka notes when we get back in the car. The atmosphere around us has changed, and I’m doing my best to shake off my nerves. The problem is that what we just did—as wonderful as it was—changes things. I’m not sure exactly what all it changes, but the ramifications could be huge, especially if you take into consideration that Blue knows. With my family, once one member knows, they all will. It will just be a matter of time.

I moisten my lips and take a deep breath. “Tonight kind of… escalated.”

“Are you having regrets?” he asks.

I chance a look at him. He’s staring straight ahead, eyes on the road. His profile is giving nothing away, and I’m not sure how to answer him. There’s a lot of things I could say, but none of them feel right. I decided to give him the truth—the part I can without totally exposing my heart.

“Not about what we did. I wanted it. I’ve missed you, Luka.” There’s silence, but the mood seems to shift somehow. I get the feeling I surprised him. “I just… I’m not sure what this means… now? You know?”

“Why does it have to mean anything?”

His words aren’t what I want to hear. I don’t know what I expected him to say. Maybe, if I’m brutally honest, I wanted to hear him say he loves me—that he’s always loved me, and that he’s tired of being without me. Maybe I really wanted to hear him tell me that he’s sorry he didn’t fight harder, didn’t try harder…

Maybe I want to hear him tell me he has the same regrets I do.

“So you’re saying nothing has changed?” I murmur, my stomach lurching with the words, because while that might be true for him, everything has changed for me.

“Well, it hasn’t, has it?”

“I guess not,” I agree, feeling like a kite that once was soaring in the sky with the wind pushing me higher and higher toward the warmth of the sun, but now is tattered and crashing back to earth with a harshness that only reality can bring.

“All I’m saying is, it was just sex, Petal. It doesn’t exactly have to mean anything. Everyone has sex.”

“I’ve never been… like everyone, Luka,” I whisper softly, wondering why it hurts so much that he doesn’t understand that. “Maybe it would have been better if I could be, but I’m not. I’ve only…”

“Only what?” Luka prompts me when I trail off, panicking I am giving away too much.

“It’s not important.”

“Finish what you were saying, Lo’.”

“Do you realize you only call me Lo’ when you’re trying to get me to agree or—?”

“Trying to get in your pants?” he jokes, and he quickly turns to look at me. His eyebrow is quirked up in question, he’s wearing a lazy smile, and strangely enough he looks more relaxed—more like the Luka I fell in love with.

“I’d say you already succeeded in that tonight,” I tell him, shaking my head, but I find myself smiling at him too.

“Finish what you were saying, Lo’.”

“It wasn’t anything important, Luka,” I lie. “I know you’re right. My sisters tell me often enough. I shouldn’t take things so seriously, but I’ve never really been like most people are when it comes to relationships.”

“Well, most aren’t married at seventeen,” he sighs.

“Yeah. And most are okay with enjoying sex without worrying about anything else.”

“You don’t enjoy sex?” he asks, and I know he’s dying to call me a liar.

“I do… but I’ve only ever shared that… with you.”

God. Why did I go there? Why did I tell him that?

“You’ve not been with anyone else since our divorce?”

“Go ahead, Luka, you can laugh. God knows my brothers and sisters do. That’s the reason they started this whole ‘Get-Petal-A-Date’ campaign.”

“I’m not laughing Lo’. Are you telling me the reason you went out with that asshole tonight was to get laid?”

“No! Well, not specifically.”

I watch as Luka’s hands flex against the steering wheel. This was not the conversation I thought we’d be having after sex.

How did I manage to mess things up with Luka yet again?