Chapter 22 #2
Yeah, this is so fun. I can only think of one other thing that might be even more fun right now, and that would be a root canal.
“Thank you,” Luke says. “I try to work out.”
“I can tell,” Gigi says, nodding appreciatively.
“So you work in PR like Claire,” Ryan says.
“Yeah,” Luke answers. “I do. But she’s much better at it than I am.”
I shake my head, looking toward the sky. He’s such a schmoozer.
“Oh, I doubt that,” Gigi says.
“Wow, thanks, Gigi,” I say, flatly. “Luke is very good at what he does.”
Luke pulls his chin in. “Was that a compliment, Archie?”
Crap.
“No,” I say. “I misspoke.”
He grabs the top of my knee and gives it a little squeeze. The gesture is quick, but the feeling lasts for a while.
The conversation flows while we wait for dinner.
Luke has taken off his suit jacket, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, looking relaxed as my family bombards him with questions.
Meanwhile, I’ve got sweaty pits while trying to play defense, stepping in to redirect anything that might be too personal.
It’s a lot like my job, actually.
But Luke holds his own, and he does it quite well. Which makes sense . . . since we have the same job.
When all my mom’s many side dishes are on the table, with the steaks my dad made that are surely overcooked, we fill up our plates and dig in.
“This pasta salad is so good, Mrs. Archer,” Luke says.
“You can call me Amanda. And actually, Gigi made that one.”
“You can call me anytime,” Gigi says, patting his hand, and he laughs.
“I might have to if you promise to make me this pasta salad again.”
“Anytime,” she says.
“Okay, Gigi,” I say, letting her know that it’s enough.
“Oh, let an old woman have some fun. The only faces I get to see most days are these fools.”
“Thanks, Gigi,” Ryan says, and Sienna giggles next to him.
I look to my mom. “By the way, why was it so important I be here tonight?”
I’ve been curious to know but am also wondering if I was fooled once again, since this seems like a normal Friday family dinner.
Except that the stakes are bigger this time, since I brought Luke with me. Although it hasn’t been so bad.
“Yes,” my mom says. “Ryan, don’t you have something to tell us?”
“Right,” Ryan says, wiping his mouth with a napkin. He reaches over and grabs Sienna by the left hand, lifting it up. “I asked Sienna to marry me, and she said yes.”
There on her fourth finger is a large sparkling round diamond.
I blink, caught off guard.
“Finally,” Gigi says, clapping her hands. “I told that boy to marry you the first time he brought you home, Sienna.”
“Well, it took him two years, Gigi,” Sienna says, smiling brightly.
Everyone is clapping now and telling them congratulations. Even Luke.
“What’s wrong?” he says, his mouth close to my ear.
I shake my head. “Nothing,” I tell him.
“You seem . . . upset.”
“No,” I say. “I just had no idea, that’s all.”
“We should celebrate,” says Gigi. “Gregory, get out the champagne.”
“You’re not drinking anything, Mom,” my mom tells her.
“Spoilsport,” Gigi says.
“Her meds and alcohol don’t mix,” I tell Luke.
Later, after we’ve had dessert and Luke and I are ready to head out, my entire family walks us to the door. Even Gigi, who most of the time can’t be bothered to even give me a goodbye hug.
But she gives Luke one. “You come back next week,” she tells him, her skinny arms wrapped around his waist.
“I’d love to,” Luke says, hugging her back.
My mom pulls me in for a hug then. “I like him,” she says in my ear.
I just shake my head at her when we pull apart.
It takes a minute to actually get out the door; everyone is shaking Luke’s hand, and Gigi goes in for another hug before I can finally rip him away from her so we can leave.
“I like your family,” Luke says as we finally get in the car.
“Thank you for putting up with them,” I say, pressing the “Start,” button.
“Gigi is something else,” he says, chuckling.
“She’s a little crazy.” I pull away, looking in my rearview mirror as my whole family watches us drive off. Another thing they’ve never done before.
“Nah,” he says. “She’s great.”
Our conversation is light as we drive back to his place, laughing about things Gigi said, and Luke complimenting the food, noticeably leaving out the steaks. I don’t blame him. They were well done—heavy on the well.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks when I turn into the parking lot of his apartment complex.
“Yeah,” I say. I thought I did a decent job of being normal on the drive, but once again, Luke has seen right through it. “It’s been a long week, that’s all.”
He nods. “Yes, it has.”
I pull up in front of his place and put the car in park.
“Thanks for letting me come to family dinner,” he says.
“I think you’re invited to them forever, according to Gigi,” I say, and he chuckles.
We fall silent, both of us looking forward, the hum of the air-conditioning filling the quiet. I vacillate between wanting to get home and wanting to stay just like this.
Luke leans toward me. Just a little. He reaches over, brushing a finger lightly down my arm. “Claire, I—”
I close my eyes and keep my head forward. I know if I look at him, if I turn my face even the slightest bit in his direction, I won’t be able to look away; I won’t be able to stop what happens next.
Having Luke with my family—I’ve never gotten to that part.
I’ve never brought someone home. When I invited Luke, I was worried about how everyone else would act around him.
What I didn’t realize was how much it would cost me to have him there.
How much it would hurt to find out I didn’t know how badly I wanted something until I finally had it.
“We should probably figure out a start time for tomorrow,” I say, my voice coming out almost normal. But not quite.
It’s silent again, and this time the air between us is heavy and weighted.
I see him nod in my periphery. “Right,” he says. “Common Ground? Around ten?” Then he opens the car door.
“Okay,” I say.
He turns back just before getting out. “See you tomorrow, Archie.”
I look at him then, now that he’s leaving. His lips are pulled up slightly, the smile tinged with something like hurt.
He gets out and shuts the door, and I pull away, watching him get smaller and smaller in my rearview mirror as I leave.
When I get to my apartment, I don’t go inside. I sit in my car and just think about the night.
I like Luke.
No. That’s not enough. I’m falling for Luke. I think I have been for a while. Maybe longer than I want to admit.
And there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m trapped. The only way to know if this is real is to kiss him, and if it’s not, then that’s the end. I would lose this version of him—this infuriating man who sees me like I’ve never been seen, and flirts, and smiles, and touches me because he wants to.
All the other men I’ve dated and kissed have just been pawns in my attempt to break the curse. If I let Luke kiss me, it would be the first time it actually means something. The first time I’d actually want it.
So I can’t risk losing it.