5. Luke
LUKE
She wasn’t kidding. This mattress is like a fucking cloud and under different circumstances I’d be sleeping like a baby, but instead I keep thinking about the look on her face when she found out her parents weren’t here.
I might’ve only had my mom, but she always showed up for me.
Bertie grew up with privilege, there’s no denying that when you see a house like this one, but those things aren’t everything.
And seeing all this? I wouldn’t trade the love I got from my mom, despite the struggles we had, for this.
It makes me sad for Bertie that she didn’t have the kind of love in her life that I did.
The door creaks open and I sit up. There’s just enough light in the hall to illuminate Bertie’s form.
When she notices me sitting up, she freezes. “Oh, you’re up?”
I chuckle softly. “Were you trying to sneak in here to ravage me in my sleep?” I tease.
It’s too dark to see, but I have no doubts she’s blushing. “No,” she drawls. “I … I couldn’t sleep and I didn’t want to be alone.”
“Come here.” I toss the covers back on the other side of the bed.
She closes the door and scurries over, jumping into the air to get into the bed. “I hate how high these beds are,” she says, rolling to her side to face me. “I’m always convinced someone’s hiding under them just waiting to grab my ankles.”
“Ah, so that’s why you jumped in the air and leaped at me.”
She cracks a smile, her teeth a bright spot in the dark. “Yep.” Sobering, she says, “Promise me something?”
“What?” I ask.
“That we’ll never let our child feel unloved by us.”
It breaks my heart that she even thinks she has to ask me to promise something like that.
“You don’t need to worry about that.” I brush a piece of blond hair off her forehead, carefully tucking it behind her ear.
I let my fingers linger a little too long against the pulse point at her neck.
Her heart stutters and I try not to smile.
Sometimes I think Bertie is indifferent to me and then it’s things like that that remind me she’s just scared and hesitant to let her heart go again after her horrible ex.
“I want you to promise me anyway.”
My eyes search hers and I wish desperately I could erase the insecurity there.
“I promise.”
“Thank you.” She pulls the covers up to her chin. “Is it okay if I sleep here? It’s a big enough bed that I probably won’t even touch you.”
“It’s fine with me, B.”
She stifles a yawn. “Thank you for coming with me. I’m glad I’m not here alone.”
Fuck, there she goes again breaking my heart little by little. “I would never make you do this by yourself.”
She gives me a tiny closed-mouth smile. “I’m glad it’s you.”
“What does that mean?”
“That you’re the father my child has. This kid is going to be lucky to have you.”
She has no idea but it’s the best compliment she could ever give me. “I’m glad it’s me too.”
She closes her eyes. “Night, Luke.”
“Goodnight, B.”
Soon, her breaths become soft and even, but I lie awake for a long time thinking about what our future is going to look like.
“Luke.” Sleep clings to me, dark and sticky and refusing to let me out of its grasp. “Luke.” Poke. “Hey, Luke?” My whole body begins to shake. “I have to pee like really bad so if you don’t want me to pee in this bed you’re going to have to wake up and let go of me.”
Those words finally penetrate my state of unconsciousness enough that I come awake. I realize two things—one, despite having trouble falling asleep that might’ve just been the best sleep of my life and number two I really like waking up with Bertie in my arms.
“Hey, sleepyhead.” She smiles over her shoulder. “Wanna release that octopus grip now so I can pee? My bladder is about to explode.”
“Oh, fuck. Yeah. Sorry.” I quickly untangle my body from hers where I had her cuddled to me like a child’s teddy bear.
I didn’t realize it last night but she’s wearing a tiny pair of shorts and a tank top. She hurries into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.
Rolling onto my back, I stifle a yawn. That might have been the deepest sleep of my life.
I give myself another minute before I climb out of bed and stretch. I swipe my t-shirt off the armchair in the corner and tug it on.
The toilet flushes and water runs before the door swings open.
In the light of the morning, Bertie looks slightly embarrassed. Her cheeks pink and her eyes unable to meet mine. “Thanks for letting me sleep here.”
“No problem.” I lift my shirt to scratch my stomach, and I don’t miss the way her eyes zero in on my abs. She licks her lips.
With a shake of her head, she says, “I’m going to get ready. Meet you in the hallway in thirty? Breakfast will probably be ready around then.”
Before she can flee like a frightened bird, I grip her wrist. “Are we telling them at breakfast or do you want to ease into it?”
Her lips flatten. “Um … I think I just want to rip it off like a Band-Aid. Get it out of the way.”
“Okay,” I breathe. “I’ll follow your lead.”
“Thanks,” she says breathlessly and all but runs away from me.
I hope she’s not mad about the cuddling. I was in such a deep sleep I had no idea I had grabbed onto her like that.
Thirty minutes gives me enough time to hop in the shower. While the water warms my skin, I try my best not to let my thoughts spiral. I don’t know her parents so I have no way of gauging how they might react to this news. Sadly, I don’t think Bertie knows them well enough either to have any guess.
I’m in the hallway first. I can hear the telltale sounds of her bustling around her room and talking softly to herself. I can’t make out actual words, but it sounds like she’s trying to hype herself up.
I don’t wait long, not quite five minutes, before she slips out the door. Her hair is in a low bun, a few tendrils escaping around her face. She’s wearing a pair of workout leggings with an oversized hoodie.
“Ready?” I ask.
“As I’ll ever be.” She straightens her shoulders, lifting her chin in the air.
We descend the stairs and I follow her into the kitchen. Since I passed on dinner, I’m starving this morning.
The sound of voices carries from what I presume is the dining area.
“Here goes nothing,” Bertie mutters.
We round the corner to face a large opening into a dining room. A long, elegant dark wood table spans the space with a large chandelier above it and a striped wallpaper on the walls.
The conversation between the two people who can’t be anyone other than her parents ceases at our appearance.
They’re not looking at their daughter, though. Their focus is solely on me, and I’ve never felt smaller. The obvious disgust on their faces is impossible to miss.
I look down at myself, wondering what they find so disgusting. My jeans and gray t-shirt are clean and free of any holes or tears. I’m not wearing any shoes because my mom raised me not to wear shoes in people’s houses, so maybe it’s my bare feet they find so offensive?
Bertie claps her hands together. “Hey, Mom. Dad.”
“Beatrice,” her mom speaks in a low, almost annoyed voice. “When you said you were bringing a friend I assumed you meant Rosie or another female. What if it gets back to Tommy that you brought another man here?”
Bertie bristles at my side. “I don’t really care what he thinks since we broke up for good and we’re not getting back together. He wasn’t a great person, and I finally woke up and realized it.” Turning to me, she says, “This is Luke.”
Her dad’s gaze bounces between the two of us, but he stays silent.
“Tommy’s from a good family, honey. That goes a long way. I bet if I called up his mom—"
“Mom!” Bertie practically shrieks. “Just stop it.”
Her dad heaves a massive sigh like this is all just too much for him and frankly, if this is too much then I fear for how beleaguered he’s about to be with the baby news.
“I will not just stop it,” her mom’s voice raises. “A marriage between you two would’ve been a good connection for this family and you just threw it all away. Because he’s not the best person? Honey,” the word drips with condescension. “Most people aren’t the best.”
We still haven’t sat down and honestly, the way this is going already, I’m not sure we’re going to.
“I’m not marrying him, Mom. Not now. Not ever. I can’t believe you’re talking about this like Luke isn’t standing right there.”
“I mean,” she laughs, but it’s a haughty sort of sound. “Look at him. He’s clearly not of our caliber.”
Bertie shakes with rage at my side and I’m not sure what to do. I reach out, brushing her pinky finger with mine. Hers curls around mine and doesn’t let go.
“I’ll have you know that Luke has been drafted to the Nashville Reign hockey team.”
Her dad is the one to speak this time. “That hardly matters. Sure, there’s money in sports, but it’s a fickle thing. Injuries happen and careers are cut short all the time. It’s not a guaranteed lifestyle.”
It’s a good thing I don’t let things like this bother me—being a poor kid at a university overrun with kids of some of the wealthiest people in the world will make you grow a thick skin. The thing that irks me the most is how neither of them will even look at me. It’s like I don’t exist.
“None of this matters right now,” Bertie says with an adamant shake of her head. “I certainly didn’t come here to argue with you about Tommy.”
“Then why did you come?” The way her mom asks the question breaks my heart for Bertie—the obvious disgust and disdain for her own child visiting is sad.
My mom would never make me feel bad for seeing her.
I mean, granted, I still live at home but even once I move out, I know she’d be thrilled if I showed up.
The fight goes out of Bertie, and she says it so quietly there’s no way they even hear, “I’m pregnant.”
“What? Speak up, Beatrice. We taught you to enunciate,” her dad says.
Bertie steels her spine. “I’m pregnant. Luke is the father.”
I wave awkwardly. “Hi.”
“Pregnant?” Her mom’s voice raises to an excruciating octave. Even her husband winces at the high pitch.
“We’re having a baby,” Bertie goes on. “I thought it was best to tell you in person.”