Chapter 37

“You’ve spent the whole week miserable, fretting over that pretty gal, and you’re just going to let her leave without so much as a word from you? Forgive me Luke, but if I agreed with you, honey, we’d both be wrong.”

Luke frowned at Jane impatiently, then looked at her husband for back up. He had shown up at their door an hour earlier, seeking moral support, a safe place to bitch and unload his frustration. Unfortunately, the fifteen-year-old scotch Paul had poured him was being more supportive than Jane.

“Why should I call her when she’s running off with a man she knows I despise, to do God knows what, for who knows how long? She’s being impetuous. I’m right about this. You see that, don’t you Paul?”

Paul shrugged passively and sipped his scotch, knowing better than to disagree with his wife. Jane snorted derisively and shook her head.

“Boy, do you wanna be right, or do you wanna be happy?”

“I want both,” Luke smirked, avoiding a cuff to the head. She was a southern firecracker, and even more so when she was passionate about something.

“Well I wanted big boobs without having to pay for em!” she chirped, expressing her point with a playful squeeze to her breasts.

“You didn’t pay for them, Paul did,” Luke goaded, drawing a chuckle from his buddy, “and stop trying to distract me.” Jane glanced at both of them and sneered, feigning exasperation.

“That’s not the point,” she grinned, “and you know it.”

“It’s just that she keeps making the same stupid, fucking mistakes over and over. First with her husband and now this guy. I mean, what the hell does she see in him?”

“Is that what you’re really upset about, Luke? That she’s making a mistake?” Jane asked evenly, easing herself onto the sofa beside him. He looked at her skeptically, wondering where she was leading him. She raised her brows insolently, indicating he was right to speculate.

“This woman, your friend, who has just been through a difficult divorce, who had been ignored and mistreated for years by a husband who was supposed to care for her, has the audacity to be captivated by someone who is attentive to her? Spoiling her? A man who finds her irresistible and is not afraid to show it? Is that the stupidity you’re referring to?”

Luke opened his mouth to speak then closed it again quickly. He glanced at Paul, but receiving no support, looked back to Jane and shrugged.

“Maybe she is being impetuous, but she doesn’t have all the facts, does she?” Jane cooed, placing her hand on his.

“What do you mean?” he whispered, knowing exactly what she meant. He suddenly felt vulnerable, exposed.

“Honey, you have loved that woman for half your life. You know it, and we know it. The only person who doesn’t know it is Emma,” she smiled, batting her lashes at him, daring him to challenge her.

“Of course I love her, she’s my friend. My best friend!” he justified, shielding himself from the truth. What if they were wrong? If he was wrong? What if he admitted he was in love with Mimi and then got cold feet? Hadn’t there been a few times that he thought he might be in love and then it just disappeared? His feelings went cold? If that happened with Mimi, he would ruin everything. He would lose her.

“No, it’s more than that,” Jane insisted.

He looked at her defiantly but she just smiled sweetly at him, refusing to retract her statement. Paul just pouted his lips and softly nodded, wordlessly encouraging him to come to the right conclusion.

“What makes you think that?” he asked, dropping his gaze, his jaw clenched.

“Oh honey, it’s so obvious. Look at the state you’re in. I consider us friends and I love you, but I would never lose my shit if I thought you were running off with the wrong gal because at the end of the day, your dumb-ass decisions don’t affect me,” she said, sharing her observation gently. “Now if it was Paul? Well, I suppose I would be fired up! Mad with passion! Irrational, even. I might even mistake jealousy for concern...”

“I am concerned...” he insisted, “Arran is not right for her!”

Jane raised her brows subtly, “because?” Luke shifted nervously, wishing she would have just let him vent.

“Because he’s just not. You don’t know him, the guy might be a narcissist. He comes across so charming and charismatic but deep down he only cares about himself. He doesn’t want Mimi.”

“And?”

Luke looked at her incredulously, “What do you mean, and...? Isn’t that enough?”

“Luke, why does it matter? It’s her life,” Jane pressed, her voice poignantly thick. Luke shook his head, and inhaled deeply, then swallowed the last of his scotch, ignoring the burning assault in his throat.

“It matters.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m fucking in love with her! I don’t want her to be with anyone else. I want to be the man who spoils her, takes care of her, makes her laugh! I want to cheer her up when she’s down, be her confidant, her person. I want to be the one who fucks her well and then spoons in behind her while we both fall asleep!” he insisted passionately, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them, words he thought he would never voice out loud. He stared at his friends, desperately trying to sort through his feelings, his breathing labored, rigid, as though he were scared to death.

But he wasn’t. He felt exhilarated.

Jane nodded, smiling at him warmly, but said nothing. They looked easily at one another for a moment, letting his confession land. Finally, he smirked at her, embarrassed and grateful all at once. Paul leaned forward and poured a splash or two of scotch into his empty glass, then added more to his own. He may not have been a wordsmith, but Paul always knew exactly the right thing to say. Luke tipped his glass to his buddy and took another swallow.

Jane reached out for his free hand and stared him straight in the eyes, challenging him. “So, what are you going to do about it, Honey?”