21. Luke
CHAPTER 21
Luke
“Luke,” Gigi calls out to me in a wary tone. “Please, say something.”
I run my hand through my hair as I replay every single memory I have of Zachary Landon. For the love of me, I can’t find one instance where Zach was acting dodgy. How did I miss this? What the actual fuck?
I try to open my mouth, only to press my lips shut immediately after. So many emotions are running through me—anger, sadness, disappointment, confusion. Nothing that I can share with my pregnant wife. I’m afraid I’m going to say something I regret if I breathe a word out. I don’t trust myself.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I’m sorry, okay?” My eyes are on the road but I know she’s crying. “I know I’m the one who brought him into our lives. He was my friend first.”
“He’s not your fucking friend, Gi,” I snap. How can she be so goddamn gullible? How can I be so damn gullible? “The sooner you realize that the better.”
I feel her stare burning the side of my face. “Maybe we should hear his side of the story.”
“Are you out of your mind?” Shaking my head, I laugh bitterly. What is with her and Zach? Suddenly they’re besties? Does she not feel like it’s a betrayal to Andrew? Is Gigi not sick to her stomach right now?
I make the decision to shut up and continue to drive. I don’t want to say things I can’t take back. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Once we arrive in front of the apartment building, I stay seated even though Gigi is unbuckling herself and opening her car door. “You’re not coming?” she asks.
“I’m going to Grandma’s place to do more work on the wallpaper.”
Gigi scoffs, making me want to break some shit. It’s the right decision for me to go. We both don’t process the same way. I need space and she needs to vent.
“You know, Luke,” she says, her arms crossed over her chest. “I used to think you were just misunderstood. You were so sweet and loving to me in the beginning of our relationship. Now, I’m just wondering whether I was the one who misunderstood you. This is the real you, isn’t it? Closed off and distant.”
My eyes snap up to her. It’s true. I have been closed off and distant, I guess.
As the guilt multiplies ten times over, I want to tell her that I’m just under a lot of stress and for her to be patient with me. But before I can form a coherent sentence, Gigi slams the car door shut and walks inside.
How many times have I done this? Walked into our dimly lit room to the sight of Gigi already deep asleep.
However many times this has happened before, tonight is the first time that I come home smelling like my father used to when I was younger. I sympathize with the asshole. Life is not a walk in the park, and marriage makes everything tougher.
I stagger to the bed and take off my sweater, pants, and socks. “Gi, wake up,” I slur. “Wake up.”
Gigi turns to face me, studying my current state. I have no doubt the frown on her face is caused by disappointment. Lucas Palmer, the guy who dropped off his pregnant wife at home to spend the evening at the cemetery and drinking bottom-shelf whiskey, straight from the bottle.
“Did you drive home by yourself?” is all she asks.
“Uncle Mike drove me here. I called him.”
“I see.”
My attempt at cuddling her is met by resistance. Gigi gives me her back. Sober Luke would let it go, but drunk Luke chooses to wrap his arms around her belly instead. “How are A and B?”
“Are you serious right now?” Gigi scoffs. “You woke me up for this ?”
“Why is it so wrong that I want to know about our twins?” I ask in a defensive tone. “I love them. And you.”
When was the last time I told Gigi I loved her?
She lets out a loud breath. The moment I hear her sniffles, I tighten my hold on her. Uncle Mike was right when he suggested I spend the night at their house for a cooldown period. I guess the cheating bastard knows a thing or two about tension in the household.
I hate that I was so drunk I had no other choice but to call him. I hate that I’m still hammered right now. I hate that I came back home to tell Gigi I’m sorry and I love her, only to come off as an asshole of a husband. I hate that she’s right.
I used to think you were just misunderstood. You were so sweet and loving to me in the beginning of our relationship. Now, I’m just wondering whether I was the one who misunderstood you. This is the real you, isn’t it? Closed off and distant.
“I’m sorry, Gi.”
“For what?”
I’m sorry I can’t give you anything else except for my promise to take care of you, something I’m trying very hard to do but keep seeming to fail. I’m sorry I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. I’m sorry the Palmer men all suck at talking about their feelings. I’m sorry I crack under pressure. I’m sorry I’m such a loser. I’m sorry even though your mother married my dad, I’m the one that handcuffed you to my fucked-up family.
“I’m sorry I’m the guy you’re stuck with,” I murmur.
“Go to sleep, Luke.”
As her breathing gets heavier, I caress her hair and whisper yet another sweet nothing to the mother of my children. “I’ll try my best, Gi.”
My eyelids drop. First, I see nothing but pitch black, but then the image of me, Gigi, and a set of twins pop up in my head. How am I going to take care of them? What are my kids going to see in me? What good role models do I have? My dad? Uncle Mike?