35
ELEANOR
The last time we were sitting at this taco truck, we were strangers. I was taking photos of Luke being a charming cowboy. A flash-in-the-pan friendship.
Now, he’s my boyfriend, and life is way, way more complicated. Not even the framed photo in my bag can change my mood. I should be celebrating.
How can I, now that Luke’s whole world has changed? And maybe mine too.
Across the picnic table, Luke stares at his plate of tacos. Untouched.
“You should eat,” I say.
“Not hungry.” He swigs his Topo Chico.
It doesn’t feel good eating with someone who isn’t touching their food, but I’m starving . Today, I burned more calories than I know what to do with—all because of this feeling .
When Luke revealed his father was Frank, I didn’t know what to think. The first thought was that I was an idiot for never asking his dad’s name, although I never wanted to pry. The second thought was . . . why didn’t he tell me? Am I not trustworthy? Does he not think I can handle it?
I’m all out of sorts with what to think about our relationship at this point.
“What do you think of Shortbread?” I ask.
Luke manages to crack a smile. A small one, but still a smile. “He’s great.”
“Yeah, I think so too.” I sip my horchata.
More silence. I eat. He doesn’t.
This sucks.
“Are we going to talk about . . .”
“I don’t really think so,” he says in a cool tone.
I’ve never known this side of him. I didn’t even know he was capable of being distant and cold. I know it has nothing to do with me. His world has turned upside down. The man he admired his whole life betrayed him.
Not talking about it, though, isn’t going to help.
“I know this is weird, Luke, but Claire’s great,” I say. “I like her.”
Luke says nothing. He chews on his upper lip and looks off to the side.
“You know, she seems like she might be . . .” What? A good addition to the family? A nice friend? “I’m just proud of both of you for how you handled that. Not everyone would be so calm about it.”
He purses his lips.
I don’t know if I’m making things worse or better. “I really admire you, Luke. You’re a good man.”
“Eleanor, stop it,” he murmurs.
I look down at my half-eaten plate of tacos. Now I don’t feel hungry. “I’m just trying to help.”
“Yeah, well it’s not fucking helping,” he says.
I widen my eyes. I wish I could get up and leave, but I’m his ride home. “Don’t be mean to me.”
“I’m not trying to be mean to you, I’m—"
“You know, you should be grateful I even invited you to come with me today because I’m still pissed off at you,” I say.
Luke looks at me again, his blue eyes searing. “I should be grateful you brought me to meet my dad’s secret baby?”
“I’m just saying, you should be grateful I wanted to see you because I’m—because you—” I huff, balling up my napkin. “Never mind.”
Luke slams his fist against the table.
I jump out of my skin. Where did that come from?
He leans across the table and spits out his words low and quick so no one nearby can hear. “I don’t feel fucking lucky. I’m pissed off. Because everything I thought I knew is fucking destroyed. So, you don’t need to comfort me. And you don’t need to remind me that I’m a fucking asshole who ruined our relationship.”
“So, I should just shut up?” I shoot back.
“Yeah, that’d be great.”
My jaw falls open. “Wow.”
Luke shuts his mouth, taking his own advice. He leans an elbow on the table and rests his head in his hand.
“I want to go home,” I say.
“Nor, wait.” His hand shoots out across the table and grabs mine. His touch still does it for me, still makes my body feel like I shouldn’t run away.
When will my body catch up with my mind? When will it start to be unsure?
He peers at me from over his hand. “I’m sorry.”
I don’t accept his apology.
Luke’s thumb skims the back of my hand. “Listen, I’m all kinds of fucked up right now.”
“I know,” I say.
He wraps my hand in both of his. Lifts it to his lips and kisses it. “Fuck,” he mutters.
“Luke, just talk to me, tell me how you’re feeling.”
“I can’t, Eleanor, I can’t. What am I supposed to do when the person I always admired turns out to be . . .”
“You aren’t your dad, Luke. That’s not how admiration works.”
Luke’s eyes remain on mine. His foot starts tapping, shaking his whole body.
He doesn’t believe me.
“Luke, I love you,” I say.
“And I don’t deserve it.” Luke puts my hand back down and grabs the edge of the table. “I need some time, okay?”
“Time to . . .?”
“To think,” he sighs. “To . . . figure myself out.”
Alarm bells ring in my brain. “Are you breaking up with me?”
“Not breaking up.”
But not not breaking up.
“I just need some space and some time to get my head clear.”
My face grows taut with concern, anger, and sorrow. I don’t know what I’m feeling. “I want to be there for you, baby.”
Luke manages a smile. It doesn’t reach his eyes. “I don’t deserve that. Not after what I did.”
“Luke—"
“You’re not winning this one, Eleanor.”
I didn’t know that I had to win the right to be in my boyfriend’s life. The right to support him through what might be one of the most dramatic things to happen to him in all his life. His dead father has secrets he can never uncover from the horse’s mouth. How is he going to wade through that without me?
Maybe I don’t mean as much to him as I thought.
Luke pulls out his phone. “I’m going to take a car home, okay?”
I droop further over my uneaten food. Now, I’m the opposite of hungry. I want to expel everything out of my system as if that will somehow purge these emotions too.
I say nothing as he orders an Uber. I say nothing while we wait.
It’s not until he gets up from the table and comes over to my side that I let myself look up.
Luke tips my chin up. “This isn’t your fault.”
I blink and a tear runs down my cheek. “I love you.”
He tries to smile.
But he doesn’t say it back.
And then he’s gone.