“I should really get back.”
“To your boyfriend?” Troy asked, his voice low as he stared at Luke with contempt in his deep eyes. Elle used to crave the soulful, expressive nature of those eyes. Now, they held nothing for her but disdain. Her stomach flipped and she felt like she could vomit.
Wouldn’t that just be the icing on the cake?
“Yeah,” she said softly, not wanting to explain the nature of her relationship with Luke. The conversation was awkward enough already. “To my boyfriend.”
“Lucky guy.” His words were snide, as if he was trying to transfer his anger to its rightful owner. She knew who that owner was. They both did. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and tilted his head to the side. “Has anyone warned him yet?”
“What do you mean?”
“Not to get too attached, the poor sap.”
His words were like a swift punch to the gut. And she knew if she didn’t walk away that instant, she’d sob in front of him, exposing her pain to the world. There was no way she’d allow that. Not after ten years.
“Good-bye, Troy.”
Elle returned to the table, leaving Troy standing at the bar. Luke had paid the bill and requested their pizza be boxed up to go. Elle was grateful for the gesture as she knew she couldn’t stand being inside Troy’s restaurant for even just a moment longer.
She needed to run far, far away from Anthony’s Pub.
Wanna talk about it?”
Luke’s question interrupted the hurricane inside Elle’s head as they drove along the highway, headed back to Elle’s home. Thoughts of Troy, both good and bad, flew with wild abandon around her brain. Despite the calm, tranquil breeze of the evening, she couldn’t focus on anything, not even Luke’s request. She shook her head. She knew it wasn’t fair to shut down in such a manner but had no idea what to even say.
Luke reached to take her hand in his. Elle squeezed his fingertips while staring at the road ahead, attempting to process the events of that evening. Troy lived in California, not back in Chicago as she’d assumed. He owned a restaurant only half an hour from her place. And if his eyes were any indication, he still resented her just as much as the day he left her behind in their hotel room at the Bellagio. That final thought made a chill run down her spine.
Even though she was filled with resentment and lingering questions toward her ex, the thought of him hating her was just . . . too much.
Luke released her hand and turned off the radio. “Listen, I’m not gonna pretend to know what happened back there, but whatever it is, you can tell me.”
Elle turned to face Luke. His wavy locks blew in the evening breeze. He was so handsome, with such a good heart, she knew he deserved to know the truth about Troy, the truth about her past. But their relationship was new and she was apprehensive.
“He’s an ex.”
Luke chuckled and patted her bare knee. “I figured that.”
“A complicated one.”
“Were you together long?”
Elle shook her head before resting it on her hand. Her elbow perched against the interior of Luke’s SUV. “On and off. We couldn’t seem to figure it out.”
“What did he call you . . . back at the restaurant?”
Elle pressed her eyes shut before repeating her nickname. “Rigby.”
Luke paused. “What does that mean?”
“It’s from the Beatles song.” Elle waited for Luke to make the connection to the song, but his brow remained knitted as his eyes remained on the road. “My real name is Eleanor. Elle is just a nickname.”
“Sorry, I don’t know the song. I’m not really a fan.” He clenched his teeth, baring his pearly whites in a please forgive me manner.
Of course listening to the Beatles wasn’t a prerequisite to date her, but she always found herself surprised when people weren’t as wrapped up in the pop culture icons as she was. “Oh, I had no idea. Sorry, I just assumed—”
“I don’t dislike them or anything. I just prefer the Stones.”
Elle liked the Rolling Stones, but in her mind there was no comparison. She’d once read an editorial in which the writer claimed the 1960s were all about the Stones, not the Beatles. She’d vehemently disagreed.
Luke cleared his throat and continued. “So when did you go out?”
“Ten years ago.”
“Wow. Long time.” He paused, shifting in his seat. He looked uncomfortable and Elle could tell he was choosing his words carefully. “And you still . . . never mind.” He shook his head.
Elle shifted in her seat, turning her body toward Luke. “No, what is it?”
“Nah.” He patted her leg again, this time allowing it to linger on her knee. “It’s way too soon for discussions like that. It’s not like we’re exclusive . . .”
Elle’s brow formed a deep crease above her nose and uncertainty built within her. Luke’s tone was confusing. He was either fishing for a declaration of exclusivity or relieving himself of any sort of commitment hovering in the SUV. Normally, she’d confront him and insist on knowing exactly what he meant by that. But Troy’s reemergence was more than enough chaos for her to handle at the moment. She felt like she was walking through the surfing part of a fun house where you have to walk through the turning disk. Around and around it goes, as your feet attempt to walk across its constantly spinning axis. She was disoriented, confused, and felt as if she’d left her bearings back at Anthony’s Pub.
The remainder of the car ride was silent. Elle stared out the window, breathing in the ocean air as they entered Santa Monica. She craved the comforts of home and wanted nothing more than to hide under the plush covers of her bed, allowing only Linus to puncture her solitude.
Luke walked Elle to her front door, his hands in his pockets and his lips pressed in a straight line. Elle fumbled with her keys, her hands trembled, and her concentration faltered. When she inserted the proper key, the door pushed open. She sighed with relief, turning back to Luke.
“I think we should call it a night.”
Luke nodded. “I figured that.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” She faked a smile. “Bright and early.”
“You got it.” Luke removed his hands from his pockets, placing them on Elle’s waist, pulling her close. “Good night, Elle. I hope you have pleasant dreams.”
Elle pressed her eyes tight, willing the tears that were forming to go the hell away. She had no time to cry over Troy or the burden he placed on her mind and she had no time to ponder what this meant for her budding relationship with Luke.
Elle pressed her lips to Luke’s, softly at first, but when his fingers gripped into the skin of her back, she opened her mouth to deepen the kiss. She cupped his cheeks with her hands, pressing them tightly to his warm skin, hoping he could make everything better. Somehow.
With one outstretched arm, Luke opened the door, walking Elle backward into her house. His mouth drifted to her neck and the tickling sensation of his lips served as respite for her conflicted body and mind. Luke’s touch was intoxicating and she wanted nothing more than to get lost in the beautiful man who was worshiping her body, awakening every cell with his expert touch.
In a swift motion, he’d taken her hands and lifted them above her head, pressing her back into the cold wood of the door. A small gasp left Elle’s mouth and her eyes locked with his. Luke’s voice was husky and deep. “I’ll make you forget about him.”
One simple tear, filled with the pain of the past and conflict of the present, fell from Elle’s eye. Luke watched it as it drifted down her cheek. When the warm tear reached her jaw, he lunged slightly and kissed it from her skin. Elle was tormented by guilt. She wanted to succumb to Luke, to indulge in the way he made her feel, but how could she do that when her thoughts kept drifting back to someone else?