I politely refused to go out with Luke and Trisha, especially after our threesome conversation. I mean, really? How awkward could I make my life? Maybe I should’ve gone and flirted with Trisha, just to see Luke’s face. Then again, it probably would’ve backfired, just like this morning had.

Regardless, I’m asleep on the couch, surrounded by candy wrappers after binge-watching Netflix, when I hear the front door slam. I jolt awake, afraid it’s an intruder.

I peek over the side of the couch to see Luke leaning against the wall by the front door. His head is tilted up at the ceiling, and he looks exasperated. Luke runs his fingers through his hair, pulling on the roots, before rubbing his face harshly.

He and Trisha dressed up as Edmond Dantes and Mercedes from The Count of Monte Cristo. I’m not sure how she convinced Luke to dress up as Edmond, especially since they don’t end up together at the end of the book. I bet she just watched the movie. She definitely pulled off the look in an 1800’s tight red gown with deep red lipstick, though.

I’m surprised Luke’s lips aren’t stained the same color.

Then again, it is pretty dark in here, so who knows?

He’s still in his blood-red doublet, a crisp white button-up shirt underneath, with black pants. He looks like a sexy pirate. His hair is a tussled mess from running his fingers through it so many times.

I can’t help but check him out as I take in his roguish appearance. He looks like he just stepped out of a historical romance novel. I subtly wipe my mouth, checking for drool.

Phew. No slobber.

I’m surprised he’s home. I had assumed he would just stay over at Trisha’s place. Or that they’d both end up here. Again.

“Hi,” I whisper, still peeking over the couch.

Luke jumps, his eyes finding me from where he leans against the wall. He exhales loudly through his mouth, blowing out his frustration.

“Shit, Liv. I didn’t see you.”

I scoot up the rest of the way and lean my elbows on the couch, still wrapped in my dark purple comforter that I added to the family room as a nice woman’s touch.

See? I haven’t been a completely worthless roommate.

“Sorry,” I apologize. “I didn’t mean to scare you. What’s up?” I ask him, taking in his frustrated expression.

“Nothing.” He pushes off the wall, shrugging as he walks over to the kitchen and grabs a drink from the fridge.

“You sure? Why are you home? Where’s Trish?” I don’t mean to interrogate him, I’m just curious. He looks like he’s had a rough night.

I look at the time on the microwave. It’s 3:00 am.

Luke takes a long pull from his bottle of water before placing it on the counter and wiping his lips with the back of his hand.

I sit, staring at him. I can feel him battling with himself about something. Although, I can’t figure out what it is for the life of me.

After what feels like forever, he grabs the bottle off the counter and walks over to me.

“Nothing,” he repeats, sitting on the couch cushion beside me.

I twist so that I’m facing him, my legs curled up underneath me. Resting my head on my hand, my elbow sitting on the back of the couch, I wait for him to expound.

“Want to talk about it?” I whisper, quietly. I can feel his inner turmoil as if it’s my own.

There’s something so intimate about this moment. The room is dark except for the streetlight from the window casting shadows throughout the room. The quiet ticking of the clock hanging on the wall. The steady breathing of my best friend as he sits beside me. The heat radiating off his body as he leans his back against the couch, getting comfortable, yet looking utterly defeated.

He hangs his arm behind the sofa, grazing my upper arm, and shakes his head.

“Trish and I had a fight.”

I raise my eyebrows, waiting for him to continue. Fighting hasn’t exactly been an uncommon occurrence between them since I’ve moved in with Luke.

Luke moves his arm from behind me, leaving goosebumps in his wake. Leaning forward, he places his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands.

“I did something really stupid.” He laughs, but there’s no humor in it.

“That’s not hard to imagine,” I tease. “What’d you do?”

He takes a deep breath before mumbling into his hands, “I may have called her the wrong name during sex.”

I can feel my eyes bug out of my head as my jaw hits the floor.

What?

He laughs again before finally looking at me.

“Yeah. I know. Not my best moment.”

I’m speechless.

Seriously, I’m one hundred percent out of words right now.

And the only question that keeps running through my mind is, What the hell did you call her?

Nope. I’m not sure I want to hear the answer to that question.

I realize my mouth is still hanging open so I try to smooth my features. I pull my knees to my chest and lean my shoulder into the cushions. I’m still fully facing him, but I feel the need for a barrier between us, my blanket and legs seeming to do the job. I rest my chin on my knees, biting my lip.

The silence hangs heavily in the room as Luke waits for me to say something.

“That probably wasn’t the best idea.”

No shit, Sherlock.

He laughs again, rubbing his hands over his face.

“Yeah. I know.”

“What were you thinking?” I ask him, shaking my head slightly.

“I wasn’t thinking!” he yells, exasperated. “We were in the moment, going at it, and…” he hesitates, “it just came out.”

“Well, what did you call her?” I ask, before biting my tongue.

Oops. I thought I wasn’t going to ask that!

Luke’s cheeks instantly turn bright red, his eyes darting around the room. He takes another swig from his bottle before clearing his throat.

“It doesn’t matter, Liv. What matters is that I’m screwed. Seriously, who does that? Obviously, Trisha’s pissed. She kicked me out, with good reason, and wants to talk about it tomorrow once she calms down. I know she’s going to break it off. I mean, who wouldn’t? I was such an ass. How could I do that to her?” He shakes his head, disgusted with himself.

I unfold myself from my guarded position, tucking my feet beneath me again. I gently touch Luke’s shoulder, getting his full attention.

“Are you sure you should be in a relationship with her when you’re thinking of someone else when you’re with Trish?” I whisper, quietly.

His bright green eyes focus on mine; he leans a little closer.

“Probably not,” he breathes, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he swallows. I can feel his breath on my cheeks, suddenly aware of how close our faces are.

Luke gently touches the side of my face, pulling me closer to him before leaning his forehead against mine. He closes his jade-colored eyes, squeezing them shut tightly as if in pain.

“I’m sorry,” he sighs, sounding defeated.

I shake my head, pulling back from his close proximity.

“Sorry? What the hell do you have to be sorry for?” I can feel my brows furrow, confused at the turn of events.

I had kind of thought he was going to kiss me.

Which is ridiculous.

I shake my head slightly and wait for Luke to explain his apology.

“It’s just…” he pauses, “you’ve got enough on your plate. You don’t need me throwing all my baggage at you, too.” He grunts.

I shake my head, a small smile playing on my lips. “Seriously, Luke? If anyone should apologize for throwing baggage, it’s me.” I chuckle. “Who’s the pregnant widow sleeping in your guest bedroom for the foreseeable future?” I point to my chest, smirking.

He rolls his eyes, laughing. “You’re more than that, Liv. And we both know it.”

I hold my breath, trying to understand any hidden meaning in his statement before he quickly clarifies, “You’re my best friend, too.” He shrugs.

Oh. Right.

I nod, pasting a smile on my face again.

“Yup. And as your friend, I’m telling you that you’re welcome to throw your baggage at me, anytime. Anywhere.” I smirk at him. “And speaking of baggage, I’ve decided I want to know the gender.” I look at him through my eyelashes, anxiously waiting to see what he says. I don’t know why I feel nervous telling him, but I’m starting to feel like he’s invested in this pregnancy too, and his opinion matters to me.

His face transforms into a huge grin. “That’s great, Liv! Seriously! Where’s that damn piece of paper? Let’s read it right now!” He shoves me softly, yet playfully, off the couch.

I laugh before grabbing my purse off the kitchen counter. My hands shake as I unzip the front pocket. I’ve been carrying around this stupid piece of paper since my appointment, too afraid to read it.

Taking a deep breath, I hold the note to my chest and glance at Luke. He nods encouragingly at me while patiently waiting for me to unfold the paper and read the results.

I smile at him nervously before squaring my shoulders and opening it. Licking my lips, I take in the four simple words written in swirling cursive.

It’s a boy. Congratulations!

I feel like the world stops spinning as I try to digest the short sentence. The note is shaking in my hands as a tear slides down my cheek, blending the ink into the paper. I’m not sure if it’s a happy tear or not.

I’m so overwhelmed. My feelings bounce between excitement and nervousness so quickly, I think I might throw up. How am I going to be a mom to a sweet little boy without a father? I’ve never felt more alone. This is harder than when I saw those two little pink lines all those months ago. It didn’t feel real then, but it feels real now. It feels so real in fact, that I feel like the wind just got knocked out of me.

I squeeze my eyes shut, afraid I might pass out. Then Luke’s arms surround me. He pulls me into an embrace that feels like coming home. He rests his chin on the top of my head as he gently sways me back and forth.

Luke continues to rock me as I silently cry into his chest, ruining his costume. I’m not sure how long we stay like that, but I finally feel my tears starting to dry.

He slowly runs his hand up and down my back before mumbling into my hair, “I’m embarrassed.”

I shake my head back and forth, wiping a little snot on his doublet. “Why on earth are you embarrassed? I’m the one that’s embarrassed,” I murmur into his chest, too humiliated to look at him.

“I’m embarrassed,” Luke emphasizes, “because I’m always bragging about how I’m The Liv Whisperer, and yet I have no clue what to do right now.” He chuckles, nervously. “Are you having a hermaphrodite? Is that why you’re crying? ‘Cause I honestly don’t know how having a healthy boy or a girl could possibly be a bad thing,” he jests, trying to lighten the mood.

I giggle into his chest. Little does he know, The Liv Whisperer has succeeded again just by holding me close and momentarily releasing the iron fist in my gut by making me laugh.

I stay silent, pulling away from his chest just enough to hand him the paper before burrowing back in. I hear the paper crinkle slightly as he reads the results.

I’m wearing one of Adam’s worn t-shirts that practically swallows me whole. The neckline must have slipped off my shoulder at some point. I hadn’t noticed until I feel Luke bend forward, brushing his soft lips against my exposed skin. Goosebumps race across my flesh as his breath tickles my ear.

“He’s going to be perfect,” Luke whispers affectionately, his rough stubble scratching my cheek as he lifts his face to mine. “Just like his mom.” He kisses my forehead softly, lingering a moment before lightly touching my cheek with his hand.

Luke takes in my face, puffy from crying, his lips tilting at the corners.

“I hope he has your eyes,” he states, looking deep into my blue-gray irises. “I’ve always been a sucker for a good summer storm.” His gaze is so intense I can feel it in my soul. I start to think he might kiss me. My mind races as I stare at his soft lips, unsure if I want him to lean in or not. Whether he should close that small gap.

Would I kiss him back?

Would I give him the cheek?

Should I give him the cheek?

His smile falters as he stares at my mouth before his lips turn into a full-on grin. “Let’s just hope he doesn’t get Adam’s goofy ears.”

I snort, laughing at Luke’s joke, the spell now broken.

“Come on, Beautiful. Let’s get you some rest.” He grabs my hand, leading me to my bedroom.

As we make it to my doorway, he releases my fingers and leans on the doorjamb. “You’re going to do awesome, Liv. And you won’t have to do this alone. I’m here for you. I always will be.”

With that, he raps his knuckles on the door before making his way to his own bedroom, his door quietly closing behind him.

“I hope so,” I whisper to myself.

Luke

I bang my head quietly against my closed bedroom door, trying to knock some sense into my pathetic brain.

I’m falling.

Again.

I can feel it. But no matter how hard I try to stop, it’s happening. I feel like I’m dangling off a cliff, my hands scraping against the rough dirt, the ground caking beneath my fingernails, but I can’t seem to find a strong enough grip to pull myself back up. To back away from the ledge and head toward safety, where my heart won’t be obliterated.

Again.

Instead, I’m clinging uselessly, prolonging the inevitable.

I’m going to plummet to my death, and the only person I can blame is myself.

It’s not her fault she’s perfect. That she’s beautiful, loving, kind, gracious, caring, thoughtful…I could go on.

I shake my head in frustration before sliding to the floor, defeated.

He’s always going to have her heart. It will never be mine, no matter how much I want it to.

I just wish I didn’t have such a hard time reminding myself of that.