10. Bertie
BERTIE
I plant my hands on my hips, surveying Luke’s small room I’ll be staying in. “I’ll get a storage unit.” Luke frowns in displeasure. “It makes the most sense,” I go on. “We’ll be moving to Nashville in just a few months and there’s not enough room.”
“I’ll put my stuff in a storage unit before you do that with yours.”
“This is your room and house. You don’t need to move your stuff.”
In my defense, I didn’t think I had that much stuff, but between my closet clear out in Rhode Island and with Rosie having moved out of our shared dorm at the start of this last school year it seems as if I let myself go a little crazy with shopping.
There’s a reason they call it retail therapy after all.
“We can make it work,” he says. “I already cleared out space in my closet and dresser for you. We have an attic so I can store extra boxes up there for now. If that works for you?”
“That’s fine.”
I wish now I had been a little more particular in my packing, and if I had been thinking clearly, I probably would’ve, but since I didn’t get a head start on it and I was running behind I was a little willy-nilly with the whole thing.
“I’ll put your boxes in the living room so you can sort through and condense.”
I almost laugh. Of course, Luke has already figured out that there’s no rhyme or reason to my packing.
“Thanks, I appreciate it.”
Since he already scolded me for trying to carry one of the boxes inside, I sit down on the couch in the living room and let him bring them to me.
I know I shouldn’t, but I keep replaying that moment in my mind when I looked out the window of my room and saw him getting out of his truck.
My lips had ticked up at the sight of him, that smile quickly falling when Brianna called out to him.
Seeing her check him out had me seeing red, which is insane because despite the baby inside me, I have no claim on him.
I hadn’t been able to stop myself from going downstairs.
I called myself saving him, and to be fair, from his posture it was clear he wasn’t a fan of the conversation, but the truth is my motives were purely selfish.
Luke carries another box in and without saying a word he pulls a pocketknife out of his jeans and hands it to me.
I open the two boxes already brought in and quickly look through them, deciding both of these can go straight to the attic. Hopefully I can have all my stuff put away before his mom gets off from work. The last thing I want is for her to come home tired and find my stuff strewn all over her house.
“There’s nothing I need from these,” I announce when Luke comes in with a third box.
He nods silently and picks one up, carrying it toward the back of the house. He does the same with the other.
Tommy used to talk all the time, mostly about himself or his loser friends, so Luke’s quietness is new to me. But I appreciate the fact that he doesn’t feel the need to fill the air with unnecessary conversation. I like that he takes the time to think through what he says before he speaks.
To be frank with myself, I just like him.
I don’t know why that scares me so much.
Maybe because I know deep down Luke is a very different man from Tommy. I knew he wouldn’t ruin me. I was hurt when things ended, sure, but it didn’t feel like my life was over. I think if Luke and I were to be together it would obliterate me if we broke up.
I open the box in front of me and pull out my pajamas, leaving the hodge podge of sweatshirts and random pair of sneakers in the bottom.
“That one done?” Luke asks, putting down the fourth box.
“Yep.”
We work like that, only exchanging a few words here and there, until I’ve sorted through all my boxes and have a nice pile of clothes, books, and jewelry to put away.
Without a word, Luke scoops up part of my things and carries them to his room.
“These drawers are for you.” He opens the bottom two dresser drawers for me.
“And here’s your closet space.” He opens the folding door and my stomach dips when I find there’s barely anything left inside.
“Before you feel too bad, I didn’t have much in here to begin with and while I was sorting through things I decided to clean out and donate what was old. ”
I hate that he reads me so easily. Am I really that much of an open book to him?
I carefully refold my pajamas and jeans and lay them in the drawers while I hang up my shirts, sweaters, and dresses.
While I do that, in the hall Luke pulls a ladder down from the ceiling and carries my boxes up. My stomach cramps with uneasiness but when I offer to hand him the boxes while he stands on the ladder, he just looks at me like I’ve lost my mind and continues on undeterred.
When everything is put away and Luke is finished with the boxes I stand awkwardly in the middle of his room, not quite sure what to do with myself.
He folds the ladder up and it hinges back up into the ceiling.
Hands on his hips, he glances over at me and I’m not sure what he sees there, but he says, “Don’t worry, B. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. If anyone sleeps on the couch it should be me.
” The idea of Luke contorting his six-foot-four frame onto a couch is comical.
I’d kind of love to see him try. He opens his mouth to retort, but I lift a hand to silence him.
“We’re both adults, and frankly considering my current state”—I gesture to my bump— “it would be a little silly to not just share the bed.”
True, the bed is small—I’m not sure it’s even a queen-size—and Luke is a behemoth, but we can make it work.
He sighs, rubbing the back of his head. “If you’re sure.”
“I’m positive.” Clapping my hands together, I say, “Now, is there anything in the refrigerator I can make us all for dinner or should I go to the grocery store?”
“Bertie,” he sighs my name in a way like I equally exhaust and amuse him.
“What?” I ask innocently.
“You don’t need to cook dinner.”
My shoulders crawl up to my ears. “I know that, but I want to. You guys are letting me crash here free of charge. The least I can do is cook.”
He stares me down and when he sees I’m not wavering on this, he sighs, and nods for me to follow. “All right, let’s see what we’ve got.”