“Bullet journal box one?” he reads off the side of one of the boxes stacked on the mover’s hand truck. “How many bullet journal boxes are there, exactly?”
“Three,” I admit with just a touch of embarrassment.
His brows dip. “Three?”
“Being creatively organized is not a crime,” I say, and he just laughs.
My bullet journal boxes are stacked in his spare office, and my clothes and blankets and shoes are up in my room. I feel more at home with this stuff here even though I had the essentials with me. It only takes the movers about an hour to unload everything, and we head back to the counter to finish our Instagram training. I’ve only gotten about a minute into my explanation when the doorbell rings again.
Luke sighs and gets up to answer it. A few beats later, I hear him say, “What are you doing here?”
His voice sounds...tired. Weary. Annoyed.
I glance toward the direction of their voices, and if I lean back just a little, I can see his back from where I sit perched on a stool at the kitchen counter without making it totally obvious that I’m trying to spy.
It’s just a totally different Luke than I’ve heard before.
“I just want to talk,” the voice says, and it’s a woman. “Can I come in?”
“No,” he says. “If you want to talk, you can call or text me.”
I lean back a little more in my stool to try to get a glimpse of the woman who’s annoying Luke, but I lean a little too far back.
The stool topples backward with me still on it. I try to grab onto the counter to save myself, but I go right down with it. The fall toward the ground feels like it happens in slow motion, and it ends with a loud crash as my ass hits the floor at the same time as the stool.
“Oh, shit, Ellie!” Luke says from the front hall. He rushes back toward me to help me up, and my cheeks are absolutely burning with embarrassment as I stand. “Are you okay?” he asks. He picks up the stool and pushes it in at the counter.
“I’m fine,” I mutter. Holy. Shit. I cannot believe I just did that. My ass took the brunt of it. I rub at it, and that’s when he chuckles just a little.
Is he laughing? At me?
The woman he was talking to through the doorway rushes in behind him. She looks like she stepped off the pages of Vogue with her long, dark hair falling in a stick-straight curtain and dark eyes that are full of lust for Luke...and then there’s me, the dork who just fell off a stool like some idiot.
Clearly Luke doesn’t like her, made obvious by the way he told her she couldn’t come in on top of the way he’s looking at her like she should get the hell out of his house lest she stain something while she’s inside it.
I’m glad he’s never looked at me with that sort of wrath, but remind me to stay on his good side.
Is this the ex-wife? The ex-girlfriend? The ex-something?
“Who is this?” she demands, plopping her purse down on the counter.
“I’m Ellie,” I say stupidly. I think of all the ways I can identify myself. His best friend’s sister? His roommate? His one-night stand? His...
“My fiancée,” Luke supplies.
Wait.
What?
That definitely wasn’t one of the words I just thought of.
My eyes meet his. The way they silently beg tells me that I need to agree to this.
I need to fake this with him in this moment, and he can explain later.
And so I do what I’ve wanted to do every second I’ve spent with him.
No...not that. There’s a woman watching us with her mouth hanging open just a tad in complete and utter disbelief, so I can’t do that.
I lace my arm around his waist and press a kiss to his cheek.
The stubble there is rough under my lips, transporting me back to a hotel room on the Strip, and I’m so close that I feel his heat against me. He smells familiar with that fresh, manly scent that I memorized in those few beats where we collapsed on the bed together and I breathed him in.
Our night flashes back to me. It’s almost painful how much detail flashes back.
Being so close to him...it’s just the slightest hint that makes me crave so much more. An aching pulse throbs between my legs, and I am royally screwed.
I want my brother’s best friend who just told some woman we’re engaged even though he vowed that I’m off-limits to him.
And I want him bad.
He tosses his arm around my shoulders, and I flex my fingers where they’re wrapped around his torso. Good God, I feel a little dizzy this close to him. Focus, Ellie. Focus.
“Your fiancée?” the woman repeats. Her disbelieving voice matches the expression on her face.
“Yeah,” Luke says. He pulls me in closer.
“Weren’t you not even dating someone like five minutes ago?” she asks snidely.
“It’s actually none of your business. So what did you want to talk about?”
His fingers dig into my shoulder, and clearly this woman makes him tense. I’m sure I could find ways to relax him...
“She isn’t wearing a ring,” she accuses, her eyes flashing to my left hand.
“She doesn’t need one to proclaim her status to the world like some people I know,” he retorts.
Yes! Go Luke.
“Well whatever,” she says, clearly trying to pretend like this doesn’t throw her for a total loop.
“Why are you here?” Luke asks.
“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” she asks slyly, ignoring his question and acting like she already has a game plan for overcoming the wrench in her plan that is me.
I stay as quiet as I can while Luke handles this situation however he wants to. I’m just along for the ride at this point.
“Ellie, it’s my sincerest regret to have to introduce you to my ex-girlfriend, Michelle.”
“Oh, I’m more than his ex-girlfriend,” she says snidely, like she hates the very word. “We were lovers. We were connected in every way two humans can be connected.”
Luke rolls his eyes. “And yet we’re not anymore.”
“I’ve heard so much about you,” I lie smoothly, giving her my fakest, most sugary smile as I stick out my hand to shake hers.
She doesn’t return the handshake, so I’m just standing there with my hand out like an idiot.
So, rather than feel like an idiot, I turn to Luke and ask, “Is she the coffee spoon in the sugar bowl girl?”
He barks out a laugh, and my chest is positively glowing from making him laugh like that.
She narrows her eyes at me. “I’ve heard nothing about you. She’s not your usual type, Luke.” With those words, she spins on her heel and heads toward the door, both of us following her. “Looks like I’ve got a big story for Savannah, so you should let me know when you can fit me into your very busy schedule.” She presses her lips together in a fake, tight smile.
“Oh, fuck you, Michelle. Expect a call from my lawyer.”
“I’ll be looking forward to it.” She winks at me, unruffled by this entire exchange—or at least pretending like she is. “His lawyer is a hottie, am I right?” She wiggles her fingers and says, “Ta-ta for now.” She sashays out the front door like she still lives here.
Luke slams it closed behind her, and he sighs deeply as he stands there facing it. When he turns back toward me, I’m wide-eyed and silent as I look at the weary expression on his handsome face. I may not know him all that well, but clearly this woman does things to him that both age and exhaust him. I’m inclined to give him a hug, but we definitely aren’t at that stage of our friendship yet.