Chapter 9 #2
“Did he lie?” she asked, her voice firm but gentler than before. “Or did he wait a few days to tell you something that possibly terrified him?”
I opened my mouth to argue with her, then closed it again because she had a point.
Luke had been terrified when he told me.
I’d seen the fear in his face and heard it in his voice.
He hadn’t confessed because I’d found out and forced him to.
He’d confessed because keeping the secret was eating him alive.
“Intent matters here, honey. Eric lied to protect himself and that woman. This Luke, though? He told you the truth even though it might cost him everything. That’s not lying, honey. That’s being brave.”
I realized I’d been holding my breath. I let it out slowly, feeling some of the tension drain from my shoulders. For the first time since this morning, I could think without my thoughts immediately tangling into knots.
“But how do I know his feelings are real?” I asked. “How do I know my feelings are real and not just … I don’t know … mathematically predicted?”
“Did the algorithm make you kiss him on your porch after he took you to dinner?”
I thought about that night. The way my heart had raced as he’d walked me home from Rosa’s. The impulse that had felt completely out of character and entirely right. “No.”
“Was it math that made you feel safe and protected when he drove through that ice storm for you?”
“No.”
“Did the algorithm make your heart race when he called you beautiful?”
I was quiet for a moment, remembering the way Luke’s gaze had tracked my movements, the way he’d stared at me like I was something precious and confusing and wonderful all at once.
“No,” I whispered.
“The algorithm didn’t make you do any of that. That’s your body and your heart, Holly—not his math. The question is, are you brave enough to trust yourself?”
Tears pricked at my eyes. “I’m scared, Mom.”
“I know you are. After what Eric did to you, of course you’re scared. But sweetheart, you can’t let one terrible man keep you from taking a chance on a good one.”
“What if I’m wrong about him? What if—”
“But what if you’re not?” she interrupted gently. “What if he’s exactly who he seems to be? What if this awkward, brilliant man really does love you exactly the way you deserve to be loved? Are you going to let fear talk you out of that?”
I pressed my hand to my mouth, the blanket dropping away, to try and hold back a sob.
“Talk to him,” Mom said. “Tell him how you feel, and set your boundaries. But don’t run away from this just because it’s scary. The best things usually are.”
We talked for a few more minutes—she told me about Dad’s latest attempt at woodworking, about their plans to come visit in the New Year if the weather cooperated. Normal things that reminded me that no matter what decision I came to, my life would go on.
When we hung up, I returned to my nest of blankets and let myself really consider everything she’d said. The hard truths she’d challenged me with.
Luke had run the algorithm because he was already falling for me. He’d wanted confirmation of what he was feeling, mathematical proof that he wasn’t imagining the connection between us.
That was actually kind of sweet, in a very Luke way.
And he’d told me about it. Not immediately—which was wrong—but before things went any further than they had. Before I was in any deeper. He’d risked losing me to be honest with me.
Eric would never have done that. Eric had humiliated me in front of everyone we knew rather than have an open, honest conversation with me.
The two situations weren’t even remotely the same.
I thought about last night. About the way Luke had touched me—reverently, desperately, like he couldn’t quite believe I was real.
About how he’d researched sex for sixteen years and then became a goddamn expert at it, all because one person had told him he was bad at it.
About how he’d tied me up because I’d wanted it, and then spent an hour afterward making sure I was okay.
About how he’d looked at me this morning with such naked fear in his eyes when I’d accused him of following some predetermined script and said I needed space.
The truth was, he’d been falling in love.
And so had I.
The realization clicked into place with a steadiness that surprised me.
I loved him, too.
I’d probably loved him since he’d stood in his kitchen that first day with Ava and me looking terrified but determined.
The algorithm hadn’t made me fall for him. I’d done that all on my own.
At five o’clock, the lights flickered and then came on. The heater kicked on with a rumble, and I almost cried with relief. I peeled myself out of my blankets and turned the thermostat up as high as it would go, then went to the kitchen to make tea.
As I waited for the water to boil, I stared out the back window at the ice-covered trees lit up by my neighbor’s annoying garage light.
I was terrified. Absolutely terrified.
This was probably too fast.
But then I thought about the way Luke had looked at me last night and whispered, “You have no idea,” when I’d said I was glad I could make his fantasy come true.
Then again, the way he’d looked me dead in the eye and said, “Yes, I love you,” when it was obvious he hadn’t meant to let that slip, the words seemingly torn from somewhere deep inside him against his will.
I didn’t need an algorithm to tell me what I already knew.
Now I just needed to make sure he knew it, too.
But first, I was going to set some boundaries. Because I couldn’t—I wouldn’t—be with another man who lied about his feelings. I needed complete transparency, always, no matter how scary the truth might be.
If he could promise me that, then we had a chance.
If he couldn’t … well. At least I’d know.
The kettle whistled. I poured the water over a tea bag and carried my mug to my small kitchen table, wrapping both hands around the ceramic for warmth. I pulled out my phone and stared at Luke’s name for a long moment before typing.
Me
Can we talk tomorrow?
Are you free in the afternoon?
I hit send before I could overthink it.
His response came almost instantly.
Luke
Yes.
Whatever time works for you.
I smiled despite my nerves. The speed with which he’d responded told me so much. Luke had been waiting for me to reach out. He wanted this conversation as much as I did. No hedging, no “let me check my schedule.” Just immediate, earnest willingness.
That was so him.
Me
Is 2 okay?
I can come to your place.
Luke
I’ll see you then.
I started to set my phone down, then decided to type one more message.
Me
Luke?
The response came after a brief pause.
Luke
Yes?
I took a breath and typed slowly.
Me
I’m not running away.
I just had some things I needed to figure out.
Okay?
This response took even longer than before.
Luke
Okay.
I set the phone down and wrapped my hands around my mug of tea, feeling the warmth seep into my palms.
Tomorrow I’d tell him that I loved him.
Tomorrow I’d find out if we could build something real together—not based on an algorithm’s prediction, but on honesty and trust and the terrifying, exhilarating choice to be brave.
Tomorrow.
I arrived at Luke’s front door at exactly 1:58 p.m. and tried to remember how to breathe.
I’d changed my outfit three times and practiced what I was going to say in the car on the drive over. I’d nearly turned around twice.
But I was here. I was doing this.
I raised my hand to knock, but the door opened before my knuckles could make contact.
Luke stood in the doorway looking exhausted, and my heart clenched at the sight of him. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his hair was sticking up like he’d been running his hands through it. He was wearing the same MIT sweatshirt he’d thrown on yesterday before he dropped me off.
“Hi,” he said, his voice rough, his expression wary.
“Hi,” I managed around the lump that had suddenly formed in my throat.
We stood there for a moment, just looking at one another, and I could see the same fear I felt reflected in his expression. The terror that this might be ending before it had really begun.
“Come in,” he said finally, stepping back to let me pass.
The house smelled like coffee and the faint lingering scent of woodsmoke. I followed him to the living room where we’d spent that incredible night together, and we sat on opposite ends of the couch, the space between us feeling like a canyon.
“I’m sorry,” Luke started immediately. “I should have—”
“Please. Let me go first,” I interrupted gently. “I need to say something, and if I don’t say it now, I’m going to lose my nerve."
He nodded, his hands locked on his knees.
I pulled in a breath and forced myself to meet his eyes.
“I spent yesterday thinking about what you told me. About the algorithm. About how closely we matched. About … well, everything, really.”
Luke’s jaw tightened, as if he was bracing for what was coming.
“And I’m still angry,” I continued. “Not furious, but … hurt. You invaded my privacy, Luke. But beyond that, every moment we had together, you knew something I didn’t about us, and that wasn’t fair.”
“I know. I’m so—”
“Let me finish.” I held up a hand. “I’m hurt, yes. But I also understand why you did it. You approach everything like it’s a problem to solve—that’s just fundamentally who you are. And honestly? It’s kind of sweet that you were so into me you needed mathematical proof you weren’t imagining it.”
A ghost of a smile crossed his face, so briefly I would have missed it if I wasn’t watching him like a hawk.
Unlike me, Luke wasn’t an open book. I’d heard people in town describe him as aloof, his emotions flat. But I knew him well enough now to understand that wasn’t true.
That stoicism was his armor, protection against a world that had probably never been kind to him about the way he processed things differently than most people.
But I’d also witnessed what happened when that armor failed him completely, the way he’d literally run away from me when he couldn’t cope with his emotions.
And then there was the Luke I’d discovered the other night. The one who emerged when he finally felt safe enough to let someone all the way in. Earnest and thoughtful and feeling everything so deeply that it practically radiated off him.
Luke didn’t feel too little. He felt too much.
“But here’s the thing.” I leaned forward, needing him to hear me. Really hear it. Absorb it. “I can’t be with someone who keeps the truth from me. I won’t.”
The hope drained from Luke’s expression. His hands fell from his knees to rest limply on the cushion, and he seemed to fold in on himself. “I understand if you—”
I reached across the space between us and took his hand. His fingers were cold and trembling slightly. “But you told me the truth even though it terrified you. Even though you knew it might make me leave. That’s not lying, Luke. That’s being brave enough to be honest even when it costs you.”
His eyes were shining now, and I watched him blink rapidly as he processed my words.
“So here’s what I need from you,” I continued, squeezing his hand. “I need complete honesty, even when it’s scary. Especially when it’s scary. Even when you think it’ll hurt me, I need to know that you’ll tell me the truth, no matter what. Can you do that?”
“Yes.” There wasn’t even a note of hesitation in his voice. “I promise. Always.”
“Okay.” I felt my own eyes start to burn. “Then I have something else to tell you.”
He waited, barely breathing, and I could see the fear and hope warring in his expression.
“I love you, too.”
Luke went completely still. Not the careful stillness he used when he was thinking, but the frozen stillness of someone who’d just been hit with information their brain hadn’t quite processed yet. “You do?”
“I love you.” The declaration was easier the second time. “And not because an algorithm told me I would. But because you’re you.”
I shifted closer, until our knees were touching.
“I love you for the things you do when no one’s watching—the flowers for the nursing home and the money you give away without applause. I love you for driving through the storm to get me, for being sweet and awkward and unapologetically yourself.”
I cupped his face in my hands.
“The algorithm might have told you we’re compatible. But it didn’t make me fall in love with you. I did that all on my own. And yeah, I’m terrified. Because we barely know each other, and this is moving so fast. But I’d rather be terrified with you than safe with anyone else.”
Luke made a sound that was half laugh, half sob, and then pulled me into his arms, holding me so tightly I could barely breathe. “I love you,” he said into my neck. “God, I love you so much. I was so scared you’d never come back.”
“I know.” I wrapped my arms around him just as tightly.
He pulled back just enough to cup my face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away tears I hadn’t realized were falling. “You’re everything to me, Holly.”
And then he kissed me—desperate and tender and perfect—and I kissed him back with everything I had.
When we finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Luke’s hands were framing my face, his thumbs tracing my cheekbones. His eyes moved between mine, searching.
“So we’re doing this?” he asked quietly.
His hands slid from my face to my shoulders, down my arms, until his fingers laced through mine. Like he needed to touch every part of me to believe I was real.
“If you want.” I smiled through my tears.
“I want.” He kissed me again, softer this time. “I want everything with you, Holly Bascombe.”