Chapter 39

She gave the cab driver Luke’s address. She wasn’t sure what she would say or do when she got there, but she needed to confront him. She was angry and embarrassed beyond belief, but more than anything, she was hurt, crushed by his deception.

She wasn’t planning to go see him, in fact, she had almost convinced herself that she never wanted to see him again! But, by the time she’d arrived home and lugged two heavy suitcases up to her apartment she’d worked herself into a state of rage! She was furious with him. For the lies, the breach of trust, the abandonment...

....the girlfriend.

She never saw it coming. Luke had watched her claw her way out of a dark place after her marriage fell apart, he knew how much pain she’d been in. He had been the light at the end of a very black tunnel, and through it all stood by her, refusing to judge or give up on her...or walk away.

Then he did. He just fucked her and walked away, like she was nothing more than one of his cheap Tinder hookups.

So, after tossing back three or four shots of whiskey to settle her nerves (she lost count), something else happened. Her liquid courage kicked in. She was ready to confront him.

“That will be $18.00,” the driver requested, pulling up in front of Luke’s building. She gave him a twenty and told him to keep the change. Emma would have driven herself, but it was difficult parking downtown. That’s why they always ended up hanging out at her place. Besides, she was in no condition to drive.

It had been a few months since she had been to his condo. Aside from a wicked view of the Space Needle, it wasn’t very homey. A cool address to impress the ladies but his furniture was super uncomfortable, designed so women wouldn’t stick around after, the perfect bachelor pad. It had served Luke quite well over the years...

....being that he was a no good, piece of shit player, she thought, wobbling to the door.

She hoped he hadn’t changed the keyless entry code. She punched in his birthday numbers and unlatched the door. Walking as steadily as she could, Emma nodded at the security guard as she passed him, hoping to appear respectable. He didn’t even look up at her.

She took the elevator to his floor, feisty and fired up. It was late, but she didn’t give a shit.

She knocked on his door several times but he didn’t answer. It was a Thursday, close to midnight, and it didn’t dawn on her until right then and there that he might not be home. She banged on the door again, this time with a little more urgency, wondering what the probability was that he was in bed, fucking his supermodel girlfriend.

The door swung open, just as she leaned in to knock one last time. She had to catch herself on the door jamb so she wouldn’t tumble over. Luke reached out to steady her but she pulled away, glaring at him.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” she slurred, righting herself.

“Mimi? Have you been drinking?”

“Of course I’ve been drinking! Otherwise, how would I be this drunk?” she spat, “Sheesh, what a dumb question.”

Amused by her response, Luke raised a brow and grinned, stepping aside to invite her in. She shook her head derisively, tossing her shoulders back, and walked inside. His apartment was dimly lit, the glow from the lamp in the bedroom the only light.

“Are you alone?” she asked, peeking down the short hallway.

“Yes, I’m alone, Mimi, it’s after midnight.”

“Like that makes any difference,” she snapped, looking him up and down. Fuck, he looked hot. He was wearing nothing but a pair of drawstring pajama bottoms, cinched tightly around his taut waist, with a six pack for days.

“No Maggie?”

Luke shook his head, regarding her curiously. “No. Why are you here? I thought you would be somewhere over the ocean by now.”

“Ha! You wish!” Emma rolled her eyes, randomly poking his pecs.

“Now, why would I wish that,” he smirked, looking down at her hand as it came to rest on his chest. She reluctantly tore her eyes away from his chiseled torso, raising them to his face.

“Because you’re a fucker, Luke. You’re a friend fucker!” she snorted tersely. She tightly balled her fist and punched him in the shoulder, punctuating her point. He didn’t even flinch but it sure as hell hurt her. “Ow,” she croaked, raising her hand to look at it. “Mimi, what are you talking about?” Luke mused, massaging her sore hand. She wished she wasn’t so drunk. Her brain felt like it was immersed in quicksand, her thoughts completely muddled. And he sure wasn’t helping with his cute little smirk and the hand holding, and all that hotness...

“I’m talking about the party, Luke,” she spat, yanking her hand away, suddenly remembering her mission. She watched the recognition cross his face, his expression instantly changing from mild amusement to deep regret.

At that moment, she knew it was true. She had hoped that maybe Arran had lied, that it was all a big misunderstanding, but Luke’s expression left little doubt. The whole thing made her ill.

No, it really made her ill. She felt her stomach flip, nausea slowly inching up her throat. Wide-eyed, she silently begged Luke to help her. He knew exactly what was happening and without a word, grabbed her hand and quickly escorted her to the bathroom. He switched on the light, kicked up the toilet seat, then held her hair back while she purged everything out. The beef bourguignon, the wine, the whiskey, along with all the pluck she had carried with her to Luke’s apartment, every ounce of courage.

The only thing left was her embarrassment, and plenty of it.

She stood up cautiously, the room spinning around her. Luke was leaning against the counter, his arms crossed casually over his chest. She couldn’t meet his eyes.

“I’m going home,” she whispered, leaning over the sink. She turned on the water and splashed it over her mouth and neck, cooling her flushed skin. Cupping her hand under the stream, she raised some water to her mouth, rinsing away the acrid taste of bile.

“You’re not,” Luke objected, handing her a towel. She snatched it from his hands and used it to wipe her face, then set it on the counter beside her.

“I am,” she insisted, bending down to pick her purse off the floor. Big mistake. She felt her balance shift, Luke’s arms the only thing saving her from hitting the floor. She needed to lie down.

“I’m not letting you leave, Mimi. Seriously. Take my bed, I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Your couch sucks,” she argued, trying to keep her eyes open.

“Yes, but I’,m willing to sacrifice my back for you. Now, let me take you to bed,” he said, leading her out of the bathroom.

“Pffft, that’s what got you into trouble in the first place,” she mumbled, heavily leaning into him. He brought her into his bedroom and lifted her onto the bed, yanking off her shoes. She grabbed the pillow and wrapped her arms around it, allowing Luke to tuck the blankets around her. He turned the light out and started walking toward the door.

“Luke,” she whispered loudly, the way lady drunks do.

“Yes?”

“When I sober up, I got a bone to pick with you!”

“Yes, I gathered that.”

“You suck,” she slurred, her tongue as heavy as her eyelids.

“Yes.”

“I need to tell you how fucking bad you hurt me,” she choked, “then I’ll leave, and you never have to see me again...”

She was asleep before Luke even closed the door.