Chapter 26
The next morning, I drive to the studio alone.
It would have been my turn to drive for the carpool this time, but under the circumstances, I didn’t feel like offering. And Luke never asked. The only text I got from him was the one last night, and I didn’t reply. There wasn’t a point.
The traffic is oddly light on a Thursday morning, as if the universe is trying to hurry this up rather than help me put it off like I want to.
I can’t put it off, though, because I’m a professional. But this soon-to-be VP of crisis management kind of wants to turn back around, swap this white blouse and red pencil skirt for pajamas, and get back into bed.
But I won’t. Because I have a client who’ll be sitting in that conference room who needs me. And now I’m officially her PR manager. Simone won’t be coming back to take over. Something I still can’t truly wrap my head around.
One thing I do know is that it’s going to suck to sit in the same room where, three days ago, I was having the most amazing and most heartbreaking kiss of my life.
The kiss to end all kisses. Literally, because I’m done. These lips are hanging up their proverbial lip balm for good.
I tell myself it’s fine as I drive through the security gate, and again when I park my car and sit there for a bit because I’m early. I tell myself it will all be okay as I walk into the building and get my badge.
Translation: I’m a liar.
I take a breath before entering the conference room, my heart feeling heavy in my chest.
And there he is. Luke. Sitting on the side of the large table that he always sits on, his hands in his lap, looking lost in thought as he stares at something across the room.
He turns his head toward me, and my stomach twists. He’s so handsome in a gray suit, a shadow of stubble on his jaw, like he didn’t have time to shave this morning.
“Claire,” he says simply.
“Luke,” I say, his name sounding breathy to hopefully only me.
His eyes meet mine for a beat, and I look for something—a flicker of recognition of what we had building between us.
There’s nothing. Not a thing. No teasing grin, no calling me “Archie.” No sly comment or underhanded compliment. Just . . . nothing.
When he looks away, I blink rapidly, feeling slightly sick to my stomach.
Pull yourself together, Claire.
I take a seat on the other side of the table.
The silence is thick as we wait for everyone else to join us.
I almost ask him a benign question to see how far the curse has taken things.
I’ve never gotten to this part—the afterward part.
I don’t know what happens next. Is there a flicker of remembrance there?
Something niggling at the back of his mind? Or just nothing at all?
But Bailey and River enter the room before I can, holding hands before they separate and take their seats across the table from one another.
Bailey gives me a bright smile when she sits down next to me.
Victoria and Paul enter next, going to the head of the table as always.
“Let’s begin,” Victoria says after she puts on her glasses and holds up the piece of paper she brought with her.
She peers at us over the top of it. “The leaked footage and the cast posts seem to have worked. Fans are shifting back to excitement for the show.” She looks to Paul, who’s sitting there doing nothing as usual, before looking back at us. “We are cautiously optimistic.”
My eyes widen. Was that a compliment? I give Luke a sideways glance, wondering if he picked up on it too, but his eyes stay forward, his lips pulled into a straight line.
“Going forward, Ms. Lockhart and Mr. Rhodes will stay quiet on their personal social media, no confirmation or denial of relationship status. Please redirect everything to the show in interviews and let speculation build naturally.”
Right, so don’t feed it or kill it. Got it.
I look to Bailey and then back at Victoria, giving her a nod. I glance over at Luke, who’s doing the same.
Victoria looks to Luke and then to me. “Any questions?”
Luke starts to raise his hand but stops himself when Victoria pins him with a glare. “Since things are headed in the right direction, would it make sense for Ms. Archer and me to transition back to managing our own clients? I think the joint approach has run its course.”
Wow, so that’s what a punch in the gut feels like. I know it’s the right call. But hearing it from his mouth, in that tone, that all the time we’ve spent together over the past month has “run its course.” That hurts in a way I wasn’t prepared for.
I hate this.
Victoria stares at him, not blinking, before she finally says something. “Yes, I think that’s best. For now.”
She ends the meeting after that, she and Paul filing out first while River and Luke stand and shake hands, talking in low tones.
“Claire,” Bailey says, and I turn toward her in my chair. “I just want to say thank you for everything you’ve done these past couple of months.”
“Of course,” I say. “Happy to help.”
“I know there’s probably more to come,” she says.
“Yes. It comes with the territory.”
There will be more blind items, more angry fans, more narratives to spin. It’s just how things work in this industry.
She chuckles. “Well, I’m glad I have you in my corner.”
I smile. “Whatever you need, I’m here.”
We stand up from our seats.
“How are things with River?” I ask as we grab our things. It’s probably not the most professional thing to ask, but I can’t help myself.
The smile that spreads across her face is my answer. “Really good,” she says.
Luke has already left, but River waits outside the door for Bailey as we leave the conference room.
The look of love he gives her speaks volumes as she holds out her hand and he grabs it, intertwining their fingers.
If I could capture a picture and post it on the internet, everyone would be back on the Bailey-and-River train instantly.
Even You Oughta Know wouldn’t be able to put a negative spin on it. Probably.
But I would never do that. There will be plenty of leaks and accidental posts that we’ll have to deal with in the future. At some point, everyone will know they’re really back together. For now, they just get to enjoy each other.
They walk away hand in hand. I’ve rarely let myself compare my situation to anyone else’s, because what’s the point? But right now, watching them, I can’t help it. Bailey and River get their happily ever after, it seems. And I get . . . a curse.
I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and then walk out of the building into the warm sun.
Up ahead I see Luke nearing his car, and that same heavy feeling pulls at my heart.
I miss him. So much, it actually hurts. What can I do to get back what we had? I don’t even need the romance part. I just want the friendship, the teasing, the laughter.
I think about Gigi and my grampa and that second kiss she gave him when she thought the curse had gotten him.
Kissing Luke again won’t work for me. I know that. But what if I tried it? What if I walked up to him and laid one on him, just like Gigi did with Grampa?
It’s a dumb idea. Perhaps the dumbest one I’ve ever had. I can’t just walk up to Luke and kiss him. Unless I want my heart broken again.
What the hell, Claire.
I shake my head at myself and turn toward my car. I’m going to go home and maybe cry a little and then pick up the pieces of my pathetic heart and move on. That’s the plan.
Except . . . that sounds like a terrible plan.
I turn to see Luke opening his car door. He’s about to get in and drive away. And I have no idea when I’ll see him again. If I’ll ever get this chance.
I’m calling out his name before I’ve even fully decided to.
“Luke,” I yell as I walk toward him.
He spins around and sees me, and I almost get cold feet and turn back.
But I don’t.
I drop my bag on a median strip as I approach. Then, I walk up to him, grab his face in my hands and pull him toward me, kissing him soundly on the mouth.
Kiss number fifty-one lasts about three seconds before I pull away and look at him, my heart pounding, my breathing heavy.
Luke’s brow is furrowed, eyes squinting like he’s confused. My hands drop from his face.
“What was that?” he asks.
“I . . . I was just testing something,” I say, feeling so dumb.
You idiot, Claire.
Well, there’s my answer, at least. Now I know.
I take a step back from him.
He stares at me for a beat. “What do you mean?”
“It’s nothing . . . I’m sorry.” I take another step back.
He runs a hand through his hair, messing it up. “You can’t keep doing this to me.”
I go still. What?
“Every time I think we’re getting somewhere, you disappear. I can’t keep doing this, Claire. I can’t keep almost having you.”
“You . . . still want me?” I ask, pointing to myself.
Maybe you saw what you expected to see. Gigi’s words rush back to me. Is that what happened? No, I know what I saw. It was just as it’s always been. He pulled away. He left.
And now he looks . . . angry. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen Luke this mad.
He takes a step toward me. “Want you? I think I might be in love with you, Claire.”
“You . . . what?”
No one’s ever said those words to me before. Because I never got to this part. So I don’t know how to trust that this is real.
He takes another step closer. “Why do you keep running?”
“Because I’m cursed.” The words just fall out of my mouth. I could have tried to come up with another excuse, spin the narrative like I know how to, but I might as well lay all my cards out right now.
“What?” he asks, confused.
I take a steadying breath. “You don’t have to believe it’s a curse; you just have to know that every man I’ve ever kissed has walked away from me afterward. I have actually never had a second kiss until just now.”
Which technically doesn’t count because I kissed him. But that’s not important right now.
He’s shaking his head, not understanding.
“I promise, I’m telling the truth. And when you’ve had that many first kisses and no one stuck around for a second one, you see the pattern for what it is,” I say. “And so I thought if I kissed you . . . you’d leave.”
“How could you think I would do that?” he asks, his brow pinched.
I shrug. “It’s all I’ve ever known. But then I kissed you anyway.”
“But I didn’t leave. You were crying, and I didn’t understand why. And then Victoria interrupted. But I came back for you. I wasn't gone that long. When you weren't there, I went to look for you in the parking lot—I saw you getting into the Uber just as it pulled away.”
I stare at him. He . . . came back for me.
“I didn’t know,” I say. He’s so close now, I reach up and put a hand on his chest, rubbing lightly back and forth with my thumb.
He hooks a finger under my chin. “So what does this mean?”
I look at him then. A question in his eyes. I don’t know the answer, or what happens next. I’ve never gotten to this part.
But I’d like to find out.
“It means, I think I might love you too,” I say.
His lips pull into a smile then. It’s big and beautiful, and my gosh, did I miss it.
Wrapping his arms around my waist, he pulls me into him, his face only inches from mine. “That’s good to hear,” he says. “Just remember who said it first, Archie.”
His lips land on mine, and getting kissed for a third time is even better than I thought it would be. It’s gentle, slow, unhurried. Luke takes his time, savoring every part of it.
I’m so overwhelmed—in a good way—by all that’s just transpired that when I finally allow myself to accept that this is actually happening, that I’m kissing Luke again, that he wants me and I want him, tears prick my eyes.
Luke pulls back, confusion on his face.
“Are you going to cry every time I kiss you?”
I laugh, despite myself.
“I make no promises,” I say, before going up on my toes and kissing him once again.