TWELVE
Luke
The next morning, I wake up in Luke’s arms and I feel his lips press against my hair.
“Good morning,” he murmurs. His voice is husky and deep. “Do you have to work this weekend?” he asks.
“No.” And I’m glad about it.
“Any plans with your friends?”
Mia and I talked about going shopping but we didn’t make any firm plans.
I turn to him. “No, I’m free this weekend.”
“I’d like it if you spend the weekend with me.” His eyes are intent on me, and I’m really glad that I didn’t make any plans.
“I’d like that too,” I say, not bothering to hold back a smile. I really like that he wants to spend time with me.
He brushes a few loose strands of my hair and tucks it behind my ear. “Good.” He smiles at me. The way he’s looking at me is making butterflies flutter wildly in my tummy. His gaze doesn’t waver from mine. “I missed you.” My breath catches in my throat and my heart soars at his words. I don’t get the chance to tell him that I missed him too. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you. I promise you, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I would never deliberately hurt you. You know that, right?”
I can’t think straight and I can’t utter a word, but I’m aware that I’m nodding.
His fingers trace the line of my jaw then up my cheek.
“I was thinking about us and how to get us to where I’d like us to be. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” His lips lightly graze my forehead. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since we met.”
“Where would you like us to be?” I ask, my voice sounding nothing like mine and colored with expectation, hope and love.
“Together. Exclusively.” He kisses my forehead, and then my eyebrow. Then his lips trail a sweet path to my cheek, before stopping right beside my ear. “I want more than just having meals and spending a few nights a week together. I want your heart. I want every single thing you have to give. I want all of you.” He pulls back slightly to look at me. He takes my hand and places it over his beating heart. “You have mine.”
“Luke . . .” He may not know it yet but he already has me. He always will. He’s the one.
His thumb brushes my wet cheeks.
“I’m thinking our first weekend away should be to Manchester, maybe next week.” He sees the surprise on my face. “I’d like to meet your dad. He should know who his daughter is dating. What do you say?”
My dad has never met any of my boyfriends since I left home for college at eighteen. There’s never been anyone I’ve been crazy about enough to introduce to him. Until Luke.
“Yeah. Yeah, sure. Yeah.” Why am I repeating myself and faltering? There is no denying that Luke has a profound effect on me.
“Ana, I want you to know that I will do everything possible to make you happy but I also want you to know that I’m going to make mistakes, a lot of mistakes. You just have to remember that all I want is your happiness and all you have to do is talk to me and I’ll fix it. Can you do that for me?”
I nod, sniffing. I’m feeling so emotional and happy.
“Okay?” His tone is very gentle.
“Okay,” I whisper.
We spend the rest of the afternoon talking about everything and nothing, and then he takes me to my apartment to change for dinner. Later, we go to the Electric Cinema in Notting Hill where we snuggle on a bed while watching a movie.
The next day, after going out for breakfast, we spend the rest of the morning indoors, talking some more. We’re in Luke’s living room. I’m lying on his couch with my head on his legs. He’s been running his fingers through my hair.
“Tell me about your dad. I know you’re very close and he’s a Manchester United fan. I know he’s a professor at Manchester Business School. He likes Formula One and never misses going to watch the British Grand Prix live.”
Surprised, I ask, “How do you know all this?”
“I listen to everything you say. And he’s important to you which means that he’s important to me too.”
I look at the gorgeous man that is my boyfriend and I don’t know if it’s possible for him to say anything sweeter to me. I tell him about my parents and how they encouraged me to be my own person. I tell him about losing my mom, and how my dad has been struggling to cope without her.
“He’ll like you.”
He smiles at me. “I hope so.”
“So, there’s something I’ve always wanted to ask you,” I tell him.
“What’s that?”
“Why haven’t you ever dated?”
He’s quiet for a while and I wonder if he’s going to answer. “My parents.”
“What about your parents? I ask, puzzled. “You never talk about them.”
“With good reason.” There’s a brief pause before he continues speaking. “I was brought up in an abusive home.” At the horrified look on my face, he quickly adds, “I wasn’t physically abused but my brother, Jake, and I were abused verbally and emotionally. For eighteen years, I was forced to witness how toxic a relationship, a marriage, could be. I promised myself I would never be in that situation. I would never put myself or anyone else in the situation. I never saw myself getting married or having kids.
“Do you have any idea what it feels like to live in a house where your parents hate each other, and hate the sight of you too? Hell. It feels like hell. And from what I heard, they didn’t always feel that way. They were once in love and had a normal relationship. I have no memory of that though. All I remember are the fights, the affairs and the ugliness. I watched them parade a string of lovers so carelessly through our home for years, and no one batted an eye. I have no idea what could have happened to turn them against each other. They stay together because of the money. They’ll lose a significant portion of their inheritance to Jake and me if they split up.”
To say I’m surprised would be an understatement. I would never have guessed that Luke had an unhappy childhood.
“If I ever do anything to make you unhappy, you have to tell me. Don’t ignore me or push me away. My parents were good at ignoring each other and playing some twisted mind games. I don’t want us to be that way with each other.”
“I promise.” I’m not one to play mind games and I like to talk things out . . . with the exception of the previous week, of course. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that,” I say, aching for what he went through as a kid.
“It’s okay. I had Jake. He was always there for me.”
“I’m glad you had him.”
“Yeah. When he went to college, we talked every day and he came home as often as he could for two years. And then I joined him at Stanford. That’s where I met Cole. Freshman year. By my junior year, I was spending every holiday with his family.”
“Do you speak to your parents?” I ask softly.
“No. I haven’t spoken to them in eight years.”
I gasp, surprised. “Eight years? That’s a long time.”
“Trust me, they don’t care.”
“I don’t believe that. How can they not care about you?” How can anyone not care about him? His green eyes hold mine. I don’t detect anything except acceptance in them.
“They don’t.” His voice is so even, so unaffected. “I came to terms with it years ago, Ana,” he says.
“Do you still not want kids?” I ask, curious. If he doesn’t want any, it’s not a deal-breaker for me but it’ll be sad because I think he’ll make a wonderful father.
“I recently discovered that I do want children, but only with one woman.” With me? He’s referring to me! I almost swoon with delight, but I force myself to stay calm . . . at least on the outside.
“You’ll be a good dad,” I say softly. I believe it with every fiber of my being.
He suddenly looks uncertain. “You think?”
I place my hand on his cheek. “I know.”
***
“Mom? Hi, it’s me Luke.
It took me almost a week to convince Luke to call his mom. His response each time I asked was that his mom doesn’t like reminders of his dad. At first, I didn’t understand what he meant until he explained that he and Jake look just like their father. He finally agreed to call her today.
“How are you, darling? And how’s Jack?” Her speech is a little slurred.
“It’s Jake, Mom. He’s good. He’s still living in L.A.”
“That’s good, darling,” she says. I’m so shocked at how completely uninterested she sounds that my jaw almost drops open. “I’m in Punta Cana. The weather here is amazing. I’m having drinks with Arthur. You remember Arthur, don’t you?”
“No, I don’t know who he is. How’s Dad?”
“Dead, I hope.” Her voice is suddenly clearer.
Luke’s jaw tightens. “Okay, Mom. I’ve got to go. I just wanted to say hello.”
“All right, darling. Speak soon,” she says and hangs up immediately. She didn’t even ask him where he’s been for the past eight years.
I can’t help it, I have to ask. “Is she –?”
“Drunk? Yeah,” he says.
“But it’s like midday in Punta Cana, right?”
“Yeah. I guess some things never change.”
I gulp, still a little stunned. “I shouldn’t have made you call,” I say apologetically.
“It’s cool. It’s good to know that she’s alive and well. But don’t expect me to call my father. He’s a totally different a different kettle of fish.”
“No. You don’t have to,” I say quickly. From what he’s told me, his father is quite ruthless.