Chapter 38 – Luke
LUKE
May
I’ve reached a new level of pitiful. It's Friday night, and I'm eating Chinese takeout alone in my sweatpants.
Scratch that: not completely alone. With Pippa joining Ryan for a poker tournament in Miami, I got roped into spending the night with her cat.
“Waffle gets separation anxiety,” Pippa begged me days before. “She needs more than someone stopping by to change her litter. She needs company.”
“Come on, you’ll have the whole place to yourself,” Ryan said. “You can even use my Playstation 5.”
“I have my own Playstation 5,” I pointed out.
“Fine. If you really need me to sweeten the deal, I’ll make you some brownies.”
“No!” I blurted out. “I mean, sure, I’ll stay with Waffle while you’re gone.”
The truth is, I could use the company. Since Eden left for Sundre, life has felt weird.
I’ve been single for my whole life, and I never had a problem with that.
I was always content in my own company, pouring my excess energy into building Twisted Devil.
Now, being alone hits different. I keep noticing things that I want to tell her about, like the first all-company tasting for the cherrywood cask whiskey.
I served all my employees the whiskey to get their feedback, and got raves from almost everyone, except Leonard, of course, whose idea of praise is “pretty good.”
I think of her again when I’m out for a run in the park and come across a wildflower patch that looks uncannily like the flowers in the Sundre prairie. I want to send her the picture of a slice of country in Toronto, but I don’t.
When I looked at Eden and imagined a family with her, I knew how supremely fucked I was. You can’t fantasize about a family when your relationship has a hard expiration date, one that’s never getting moved. Without Brinley’s approval, Eden and I have no future.
Maybe I’d feel more confident if Eden was texting me, but my inbox is empty. I like to think she’s going through the same thing I am, constantly picking up her phone to write messages she ends up deleting. Part of me feels sure she’s missing me, too.
Or maybe she’s not. Maybe, surrounded by family and in her element preparing for the wedding, she’s realized she doesn’t need me to be happy.
That’s a depressing thought. I shove an egg roll in my mouth to make myself feel better. Just then, a black blur jumps onto the counter and tries to snatch the egg roll out of my mouth.
“Waffle, no!” I scold, even though I’m pretty sure “no” means nothing to cats. Waffle ignores me, jumping at my hand for a second egg roll attack. I hold the egg roll up as far as I can reach, and the black cat makes a noble effort of trying to jump that high.
“You’re insane,” I mutter. “Are you always like this?”
Waffle pauses to give me a look that seems to say, duh. It’s so adorable that I can’t help but give in. I break off a small piece of my egg roll and give it to her. She primly accepts it, like a princess taking a gift from a suitor she dislikes.
Chuckling, I pull out my phone to snap a picture of her. A picture I want to send to Eden.
Would it be so bad if I did? Worst case scenario, she doesn’t respond. Maybe, though, she’d actually start talking to me again. I’m dying to know how she’s doing in Sundre, if Rose is having trouble with her wheelchair, how close she is to killing Wade for annoying her.
I send the picture to Pippa instead.
Luke
Are cats allowed to eat egg rolls?
Pippa
They definitely aren’t. Resist the begging eyes, Luke!! Stay strong.
Stay strong. It’s good advice for a man who can’t stop missing his fake girlfriend, and can’t do shit to change that.
“Quit tanking and make a decision,” Ryan groans as James stares at his hand. “It’s been two minutes.”
“Don’t rush me,” James says. “You try thinking critically with a newborn.”
“Yeah,” Nate says. “Sylvie woke me up three times last night. I haven’t slept for eight straight hours for months.”
“Well, get over it. This is a casual poker game. Who cares if you mess up one hand?” Ryan says.
“You do,” we all say in unison.
“You pout if you lose a hand you think you shouldn’t have,” Beau says.
“I’m a professional poker player!” Ryan says. “I get to hold myself to a higher performance standard. Now James, are you going to call or not?”
James bites his lower lip thoughtfully, then shoves a stack of chips forward. “Raise.”
Ryan’s the only one who calls him. I deal out the rest of the cards, and James takes the hand with a two-pair.
“See?” Beau points at Ryan. “You’re pouting now!”
“Because it’s impossible to play you postpartum dads! I can’t read them. Their tells are all over the place. Nate’s eye keeps twitching, and I have no idea what it means.”
“It means Sylvie woke me up three times last night,” Nate says.
“Does that mean you need a coffee instead of a whiskey?” I ask.
“It means I need both.”
“Come with me,” Beau says, patting me on the shoulder. “Let’s get these guys some caffeine and alcohol. You can help me carry.”
We both stroll over to the bar, where Beau busies himself grinding up coffee.
“So,” he says. “How’s wedding prep going?”
I raise my brows. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”
“Well, your girlfriend’s the one who’s planning the wedding, so you know more than I do.”
“She’s not my girlfriend.” My four least favorite words. “So it’s not like we’re talking while she’s gone.”
Beau pauses and looks at me. “You’re not texting?”
“No. Why would we?”
He tilts his head and looks knowingly at me. “Bro.”
“What do you mean, bro?”
“It means I’ve been there.” Beau claps me on the back. “When I was doing it, I thought I was getting away with it. I wasn’t.”
My whole body goes still, because I know exactly what he means.
When he was pretending not to be in love with Brinley, he was lying to himself, too.
Beau doesn’t press me. He just finishes making up two Americanos for Nate and James and nods his head to the whiskey bottle on the counter. “You can grab that.”
I follow his instructions and tail him back to the table, where I automatically refill everyone’s glass.
When I sip my whiskey, I don’t even taste it.
I’m too busy processing. Beau knows I’m in love with Eden.
He’s watched it happen over the past seven months, and he said nothing, because Beau’s too kind to rush me into admitting it.
We call the game earlier than usual, out of respect for Nate and James, who practically fall asleep at the table by 10:30.
“No reason we have to end the night early, though,” Ryan says. “Pippa and Brinley are down at Velvet & Vice, and I think Beau and I are going to go meet them. Luke? You down?”
I wave a hand. “Nah. I'm good. I didn't sleep great, either, so I think I'm just going to crash.”
“Aw, come on!” Ryan says. “It's too early to turn in.”
“Let him go,” Beau says. “If he comes, you're going to spend all night listening to Pippa gush about how Waffle loves him and he’s the world’s best petsitter.”
Ryan nods. “Good point. Let’s go.”
I mouth “thank you” at Beau, because the last thing I want to do tonight is get dragged into being the fifth wheel.
Watching my best friends act all couply with the women they love will only make me feel worse.
I don't need to torture myself with more reminders of the thing I want for myself and can't have.
All the lights are off in my apartment upstairs. Of course they are—who would turn them on but me?
I flop on the couch and pull out my phone. No new texts. I open a new text, but I don’t type Eden’s name at the top. I want to, but I don’t. I stare at the blank screen for a long time, missing something I never had.