?? Fuck, sorry, talking about this makes me—”
I place my hand on his arm. “It’s okay. You don’t need to go back over it all.” I decide to give this woman another chance. If she means this much to Luke, she mustn’t be as bad as I think. First impressions are often wrong. “It sounds like you’ve got a good friend there.”
His eyes find mine. “Yeah.” His voice is croaky, and I can see how much this is affecting him.
I lose myself in the moment and bend forward. Brushing my lips across his, I murmur, “I’m sorry you’ve had to go through all this.”
He reaches out and slides his hand around my neck. Holding me so I can’t move my lips away from his, he rasps, “Life’s getting better every day, Callie. You’ve given me that.”
His lips find mine again in a slow-burn kiss that morphs into desperate need. It’s not long before I’m straddling him with my arms around his neck while we kiss as if we’ve never kissed in our life. As if we’re fighting to experience every amazing feeling a kiss can give, all in this one moment.
When he finally pulls away, breathless, I instantly miss his touch. Resting his forehead against mine, he mutters, “Sorry about that. Momentary lapse…”
We sit like this for a long while, both of us struggling to recover our breaths. We’re also both having trouble letting each other go. Our bodies are still pressed hard against each other, and our arms are still around the other.
“I don’t want to move,” I whisper.
“I don’t want you to, either.” His eyes find mine and hold on just as tight as his arms.
I bite my lip. “Are you any closer to the divorce?” I ask hesitantly. I don’t want to nag him about this. And yet, I really want it to hurry up.
His eyes leave mine, and he looks down for a moment. “I think so.” He gives me his eyes again, but only for a quick second before he looks down again. He then stands while still holding me. Placing me down, he says, “I’ll know more soon.”
As I watch him begin to clear the table, I can’t help but feel like he just fobbed me off. It was like he was trying to avoid that whole conversation.
And not in a good way.
It was as if he wasn’t telling me something.
15
Callie
“Hey, kitty,” I say as I bend to pat Mariah the next afternoon. She rubs up against my leg and meows loudly. As I try to move around her so I can unlock my front door, she keeps getting in my way. Laughing, I bend down and scoop her up. Patting her, I say, “I’m sorry I’m late tonight. I got stuck at stupid work and then in traffic. But I’m here now, and if you just let me go inside, I promise to bring your food out.”
She purrs in my arms while I take the opportunity to unlock the door. Placing her back down, I say, “I’ll be back soon.”
My cat, Jasper, meets me on the other side of the door, as keen for food as Mariah. After I give him some attention, I run for the bathroom. I drank a lot of water today, and the traffic was a bitch, and then there was a car accident that held me up. My trip home took an extra hour and a half and to say I’m desperate for the bathroom doesn’t even cover it.
When I enter my kitchen a few minutes later, I grab the cat food and notice my phone on the kitchen counter. “There it is,” I mutter. I forgot it this morning.
After I’ve fed the cats and given them some time, I swipe my phone off the counter.
Holy shit.
There are eight missed calls from Luke.
I don’t bother listening to his voice messages; I call him straight away.
“Callie,” he clips when he answers.
He’s pissed off.
“I’m so sorry, Luke. I left my phone at home. You should have called me at work.”
“I did.”
“Oh. They never told me.”