Supportive. Loving. Always open and honest in their communication.
She glanced over at the contract printed out in triplicate, waiting for Luke to sign it, and wondered what John would think of her plan.
Yesterday, she’d put her signature in all the relevant places. Now, she just needed Luke’s. Her phone told her she’d also missed three calls and five emails from her father, added to the DMs he’d sent to her social media platforms. He was furious with her. But she wasn’t ready to deal with him yet.
Quickly, she responded to Kelly, letting her know that she was fine and that she was staying with a friend.
With a clatter, the door burst open. “Motherfucker.”
The curse, even mumbled, was clearly Luke, and it made her smile. “Hey,” she said as he rounded the corner. His eyes were red and tired.
“Everything okay, flower?” he asked with a yawn, dropping his large black tote bag.
Flower.
She wondered if he called every woman that, or if it was just a thing he did for her.
“Yeah, I’m good. I wasn’t expecting you back this early. I only just finished my workout. I borrowed the weights in your bedroom. Hope you don’t mind.”
Luke shook his head. “Don’t mind at all, but is that healthy with the . . . ?” He looked down at her stomach.
“You can say the word baby you know.”
“Yeah. Right. The baby.”
“I worked out every day before I got pregnant. My ob-gyn in Malibu says it’s fine to continue.”
“Fair enough. Wait, what the fuck is that spaceship on the counter?”
Willow picked up her cup and took a sip to hide her smile. “A coffee maker.”
“Jesus Christ. A family of four could live inside it.”
“It’s not that big.” She hopped down off the stool. “Would you like a coffee, Luke? You look tired.”
He rubbed a hand over his stubbled jaw. “Sure.”
“What kind of coffee?”
“Surprise me.”
“It has a large brew head so the water flows through the grounds more effectively.”
Luke huffed. “It’s big enough to take a shower under.”
Willow bit back a grin and focused on frothing the foam. She’d tell him the beans were decaf later. Or maybe never, if he couldn’t tell the difference. With the double espresso shot in the cup, she added mostly the foam and a splash of milk. “One cappuccino. You’ll never want to drink anything else.”
“You’ve clearly never had a pint of Boddingtons at the perfect temperature.”
Willow placed the drink down in front of him. “Given it will be a while before I can compare the two, I suggest you just shut up and say thank you.”
“Thank you.” Luke tipped the cup to his lips and took a sip.
She tried not to pay attention to the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. And, geez, she’d read about preggo horny hormones, but lord, since the moment Luke had walked into the room, it was as if someone had let off a pheromone bomb, and she wasn’t immune.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the papers she needed him to sign, and they doused the low-grade tingling in her underwear.
Probably for the best.
“That’s good coffee,” he said, a whisper of white foam on his upper lip.
Willow gestured to her own lips. “You’ve got a little something.”
Lazily, Luke ran his tongue over his upper lip. She followed every delicious millimetre. Shit, there went those tingles again.
“Better?”
“Much,” she said hoarsely. “How was London?”
“You want the simple version, or do you want the truth?”
Neither sounded good. “A lie, or something that will likely hurt, right?”
Luke shrugged. “Neither are great options. Which seems to be a trend between us.”
“I think given we are hopefully about to set up one giant lie, I feel like the truth between us might be the very thing that grounds us and makes all of this possible.”
“Recording the show went great. We played together flawlessly. Then, I got blind drunk and, after watching this redhead who was fit as fuck for half an hour, I decided to go chat with her and see if I couldn’t get her to come back to the hotel with me.”
Willow swallowed, her stomach churning, and she tried to figure out her emotions. What did this mean for their deal? Did he not feel like he could do it?
Did he sleep with her?
Is that why he looked so damn exhausted?
Willow looked down at her coffee, and she suddenly didn’t feel like drinking it any more than if it was sour milk. Instead, she tipped it down the sink and rinsed the cup.
“Nothing to say to that, Will?”
She placed her hands on the edge of the sink and breathed deeply. Once, then again. She didn’t have a plan B. If he didn’t sign the papers, there was no way to pull this all off. She’d lose her sponsors and likely a fair chunk of her followers. The tears that stung the corners of her eyes were nothing more than tears of frustration, because a man like Luke couldn’t actually hurt her, right?
With a sigh, she pushed off and faced him. “I don’t know what you want me to say. Did I hope for better from you than that? Sure. At least we know now that you won’t be able to keep it in your pants. Better to learn that now before I not only pretend to be in a fake relationship with you, but also get humiliated for real. I’ll go pack. I’ll be out of your hair by lunch.”
She turned to head to her bedroom but was stopped when he gently gripped her wrist. “You think I slept with her.”
It was a statement. “Wasn’t that the whole point of telling me that?”
“You’re jealous.”
“I’m disappointed. Get over yourself. You let me down.”
Luke’s eyes, filled with emotion, narrowed. “I didn’t sleep with her. Didn’t even get as far as talking to her. Got about eight feet away from her.”
The air crackled between them. Willow bit her bottom lip. “Then what?” she asked, quietly.
Luke shook his head and let her go. “I don’t know. Some kind of force field kept me away from her, like we were polarised or something. Something spun me away from her.”
“Something?”
“Yeah. Something, flower. I left that nightclub and walked. Couldn’t face the hotel. I walked past the Tate Modern, along the Thames, past London Bridge. Past HMS Belfast, which my great grandad served on during the war. And I got to thinking about him and the sacrifices he made, and it put some things in perspective. But I kept walking. Over Tower Bridge, through St. Katharine Docks . . . on and on. All night, until I was back on the bank of the river with the sun setting fire to the Thames as it rose, and a thought that I should be here and not there.”
Fire.
Such a temperamental thing. But it only needed a spark and tinder.
“I went to the hotel, packed, and got on the next train home.” Luke stood from the stool and pinched her chin between his thumb and finger. “We’ll start after I’ve slept and showered, because I’m guessing our reunion photo shouldn’t include tired eyes and unwashed bodies.”
“You’ll do it?”
“Yeah, I’ll do it.”