Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
To Do:
- Don’t panic
- Breathe
- Craft the world’s most moving apology
Dim candlelight was visible through the front door when they arrived at Luke’s house. Claire slid her key in the lock and turned the knob. At least he hadn’t locked her out. Almost all the lights were off on the first floor. Mindy rushed upstairs, leaving Claire to confront Luke alone. Traitor.
Stress swirled around her like a toxic tornado. If Brad fired her, she would have wasted months. Months that she could have spent taking on clients in West Haven. The West Coast branch would be dead. She wouldn’t be able to join Luke in LA when he traveled and see her sisters. She would be tethered to West Haven, slamming in as many clients as she could to make up for the revenue lost from Brad’s proposal.
Her hands shook as she unloaded her purse and removed her shoes. Rosie catapulted herself out of the family room and skittered to a stop in front of her. Winston attempted to follow and crashed into the closet door.
Claire kissed both dogs on the head and tiptoed down the hallway toward the kitchen. Only the light above the sink was on. Luke stood at the sink. He was wearing her favorite button-down, a surprising change from his usual black T-shirt. On the kitchen table, candles had burned down almost to the studs. Empty plates and glasses gleamed on the table. Gray and white striped placemats she didn’t recognize nestled under the dinnerware.
“Hey, I’m really sorry.” She put a hand on Luke’s shoulder, but he didn’t turn around. “Luke?” Was he catatonic?
“Brad called me.” His answer was short, clipped, like the act of speaking out loud was personally inconveniencing him.
“Ah,” she said lamely. “Did he mention the thing?”
“You mean the thing where you stalked an innocent man and accused him of having an affair?”
She drew herself up, indignant. “All I said was we were checking to make sure he wasn’t having an affair. Or murdering someone. Why would he take that personally if he didn’t have something to hide?”
“And was he? Hiding something?” Luke spun around. His dreamy green eyes were harder, darker, more moss than sea.
“Well, no. Not that we know of.”
“Exactly. He called me, wondering why I recommended someone who actively stalks their clients.”
Claire crossed her arms over her chest. “Can you blame me?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Yes.”
“Excuse me?” This conversation was not going how she thought it would.
Luke pulled steaks out of the fridge and ripped the plastic off like it had stolen his dog. “Do you want me to sugarcoat it, or do you want me to tell you the truth?”
She took a deep breath. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to spew a giant volcano of crazy all over him. “Truth.”
He sat the steaks on a cutting board and pulled out a meat mallet. “You disrespected him. And in turn, you disrespected me.”
Her mouth dropped open. What did Brad have anything to do with Luke? It’s not like she had asked Luke to drive the getaway car.
“I’m not sure if you remember this,” she said slowly, “but I recently helped a hotel tycoon serial killer propose to his innocent teacher girlfriend. Brad is a high-profile, middle-aged Hollywood executive dating a hospital administrator. I have a moral responsibility to my clients to make sure that I’m not repeating history. I ruined Victoria’s life by not seeing the signs.” Everything spilled out without her realizing it. Was that why she didn’t trust Brad? In so many ways, he was like Barney. More money than sense. Powerful, intimidating, opinionated.
Luke smashed the mallet into the steak. His eyes cut over to her. “Victoria was the one who agreed to marry him. They lived together and she didn’t even see the signs. You need to stop using Barney as an excuse to not trust people. Especially people that I personally recommend you to.”
She paused. Something wasn’t connecting here. “So you’re upset because I made you look bad to Brad?”
“No,” he growled, hitting the meat with more force than was necessary.
She wasn’t about to critique a man holding a mallet, but the steaks would be the width of a piece of paper before long.
“I’m upset because you’re questioning my judgment,” he added.
“Oh,” she said. She put a hand on his. The mallet came to rest. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I don’t trust your judgment. You know I do. I listened to your very valid concerns about transportation for Brad’s proposal. I even let you pick the tile replacement for the bathroom, and you were so right. Marble would have been a terrible choice in a multiple dog household.”
Stubble covered Luke’s rugged cheekbones. He scrubbed a hand over his face. His eyes were hooded. “Respect is important. And respect and trust are tied up together. You need to do better.”
His words slapped her like a prizefighter. “ I need to do better?” She took a step back. Her insides burned. This was the last thing she needed when she was on the verge of getting fired.
“My mother was almost kidnapped, Luke. People are threatening my family. Forgive me if I’m having a hard time trusting strangers at the moment. And by the way, light stalking and surveillance have always been part of our process at Happily Ever Afters. Do you know how many cheaters and people who were mean to waitstaff and other red flags we uncovered as a result of our efforts? It’s one of the reasons why we were so successful.”
Were. The past tense slipped out unintentionally. Why did it hit so hard? It was like every project that happened before Barney was sitting neatly in a golden filing cabinet marked “Before.” Every proposal that had come since, no matter how romantic, had had just a slight tinge to it, a note of apprehension and uncertainty.
“You can’t go based off surface interactions when you’re helping someone pledge their undying love. Did you ever have dinner with Brad? Hang out at a bar? Game night? Anything not in a business setting?”
“Not exactly,” Luke said. “But he’s a good guy. I know he is. And you should trust my word.”
She turned away from him. He wasn’t being rational. Was he really upset about Brad, or was this something else?
She whipped back around and crossed her arms. “Do you want me to sugarcoat this next part, or do you want the truth?”
“Truth.”
“You’re being a bit of an asshole,” she half shouted. Winston snorted and looked up from his bed. Half of his tongue poked out the side of his mouth. “Why?”
“Brad is a friend and?—”
“This isn’t really about Brad,” she interrupted. “Tell me what’s going on.”
The mallet hit the cutting board with a clang. He put both hands on the island and leaned toward her. “I asked you for one thing. Be home for dinner at six, so we can spend some time together. Just the two of us. And you forgot. Do you know how it makes me feel when you prioritize spying on your clients over having dinner with me?”
Claire deflated like a balloon. With all the Brad drama, she had almost forgotten about the missed dinner. This was just the latest in an unfortunate series of putting Luke on the back burner. If he was an hour late for a dinner she had slaved over, she would have been pissed.
“You’re right. I messed up. I’m sorry.”
He turned his back to her and washed his hands methodically in the sink. Was he about to pick up his tool belt and start building a treehouse? He dried off with a dish towel and took a deep breath.
“Lately, I’ve been feeling like an afterthought. We said we were going to make time to be together while we’re out here, and every time I try, it’s like pulling teeth. Do you not want to spend time with me?”
Oof. She was going to have a ton of material to take to her next therapy session. Was there a limit on the number of topics? Maybe she should make a PowerPoint. If she forced Luke to sit down and take a quiz right now, she could almost guarantee his love language was quality time. And she hadn’t been giving him any of it.
She laid a hand on his, gentle as a bird landing on a branch. “Luke, I love spending time with you. You’re my big, grumpy, opinionated bear. You plan the best date nights. I’m sorry that I haven’t been as available lately. I think I’ve really been letting the stress get to me. You know you’re more important to me than any of this—” She flapped one hand toward the six binders sitting on the kitchen table. “And I’m going to try harder to show it.”
Luke’s hand slid out from under hers. Oh, no. Had she said the wrong thing? Would he disappear to blow off some steam? Maybe he was going to build that tree house.
He caught her wrist and pulled her into him. His arms surrounded her. Warmth engulfed her, followed closely by the scent of clean linen and rosemary. She melted like an ice sculpture in July.
He pressed his lips to her hair. “It’ll be okay.”
“But what if he fires me?” Her voice was muffled.
His arms tightened around her. “You’ll be fine. We’ll be fine. There’s always a way.”
She nodded, then pulled back. He swiped a finger underneath her eyes. His expression was cloudy, but he wasn’t yelling at her anymore. Her phone vibrated in her pocket. Her hand twitched, but she stayed where she was. Even if that was Brad texting her with a preemptive decision, it wasn’t worth looking. If she messed this up, she could lose much more than her business.
“Can I help with dinner?” she asked.
Luke put the mallet in the sink full of soapy water. “That depends, are you planning to stick around or are you going to go spy on someone else?”
“Ha-ha.” She elbowed him and picked up an onion. Anything to distract from her imminent firing.