Chapter 32 #2
He pulls back and looks at me for a second, and I could tell he was weighing his options. Use my tactic of dodge and deflect? Straight up lie? Cave and tell the truth?
Dodge and deflect, it is.
“Boring stuff. I'll tell you about it later," Luke replies, and cuts his eyes to my left. One sign of lying. But why would he lie?
I try to keep my emotions neutral and give him the benefit of the doubt.
Maybe it's a surprise for me, and I'm about to ruin it.
So I pull up my big girl panties and deal with it.
He wouldn't be here if he weren't happy with me.
I refrain from saying or doing anything stupid, and we have a great Mexican dinner.
Somehow, we both felt relaxed and happy tonight, even knowing the storm brewing just outside. But tonight, we’re just a happy couple enjoying an evening together.
It's finally Friday morning, and I slept absolutely none last night, and it wasn't all Luke's fault this time.
It was partly his fault, but mostly because I know the interview will air first thing this morning, and then all hell will break loose.
I got up early to shower and prepare to face the day.
Now I'm sitting at my kitchen table, and my Keurig just provided my morning cup of heaven.
Luke bought Panera Bread bagels and cream cheese yesterday.
Out of sheer anxiety, I slather a cinnamon crunch bagel with honey walnut cream cheese and devour it in record time.
No longer able to wait, I turn on the television and wait for the interview to air.
The promos have increased in length to provide more information and entice viewers to watch.
And it’s time.
Luke and I sit glued to the show, and neither of us speaks during the whole hour-long interview.
Throughout the show, the camera pans to the audience, showing some people crying, some shocked, and, of course, some in complete disbelief.
At the end of the show, Lindsay added a few minutes to say a few words of her own.
She spoke words of support and belief in me, even knowing that there would be severe backlash from certain influential circles.
When the show ends, Luke turns to me and pulls me into his lap. Planting kisses all over my face and neck, he whispers words of love and encouragement to support me. “I’m so proud of you, Andi. You gave a great interview. The audience loved you, and even Lindsay Blair was on your side.”
“I’m still in shock over it.”
“You are the most amazing person I’ve ever met.
You’re strong, independent, loving, and giving.
You're unbelievably kind and thoughtful of others, and everyone you meet loves you. You're incredibly sexy and beautiful. I’ve never wanted anyone like I want you—in every way imaginable. You've consumed me and spoiled me and made it impossible for me even to consider living without you. Whatever happens, I’m with you. I won’t leave you. ”
He knows my weakness. He knows my fear. Even after all these years of making it on my own, the fear of losing those I love is still very real.
He knows this even though I’ve never even said it.
Yet he always reassures me that he will never leave me.
Words aren’t enough to describe how much I love him.
Feelings are even grossly inadequate to express the depth of my love.
It’s all-consuming, scary, exhilarating, and comforting all at once.
He's become my life, and I would do anything for him.
I gently rub the stubble along his jawline and lean in to kiss him.
I turn to face him, straddling his lap and wrapping my arms around his neck.
He wraps his muscular arms around me, pulling me tight to him.
Then, the phone rings. We both freeze, still nose to nose but staring intently into the other’s eyes.
All the hang-ups instantly flash in my mind, but somehow, I don't think this call will be another one of those. I believe that this call is the declaration of the coming all-out war. Jackson will make good on his threats to Luke and his family. I know they’re in danger now because of me.
Luke's arms wrap back around me, and he holds me tightly. “I. Won’t. Leave. You. Andi. Even if you tell me to go.”
I reach over and pick up the receiver.
“Hello?”
“You. Bitch.” The venom from my former foster mother’s voice seeps through the receiver, right into my ear.
“Funny. That’s the name we’ve given you,” I respond, like a true smartass.
“You will pay for this. You don’t know who you’re messing with, little girl,” she hisses through the phone. Her voice is lowered to just above a whisper, and that makes me wonder why she's not screaming like a banshee. Like she normally did.
A click later, the dead line tells me she hung up on me. I chuckle a little and hang up the receiver while I tell Luke about that abrupt conversation. He looks worried.
“She hasn’t been involved until now. I wonder why not,” Luke states thoughtfully.
“I’m sure she saw the interview,” I say with a single shoulder shrug. “She couldn’t remain silent after I told everyone she knew what was happening in her house, but didn't care. That she actually encouraged it.”
“Maybe,” he says absently, but he’s looking away from me. I know he’s concerned about my safety.
The national network news breaks into the local programming for a special story.
"A Georgia woman appeared on a local talk show this morning and claimed she saw Congressman Jackson Rhoades raping a young girl when she was a foster child in his home.
These allegations are currently unsubstantiated, but with a recent amendment to Georgia law to remove the statute of limitations on felony child abuse, Congressman Rhoades could be facing long-term prison time if convicted.
“Again, these are unsubstantiated claims at this time.
A Georgia official, speaking on the condition of anonymity, says these allegations are being taken very seriously and will be fully investigated.
We'll wait to see if Congressman Rhoades will schedule a press conference to address these allegations publicly. Stay tuned as we bring you live updates as they happen.”
And the three-ring circus begins. My phone starts ringing, and this time, I check the caller ID before picking it up.
Unknown callers are always sent to voicemail.
One news station after another leaves messages requesting an exclusive interview.
Everyone wants to get the scoop first. Some offer money, others offer promises of fame and fortune, while others are just downright rude in demanding I pick up the phone because they know I’m home.
"I'm going to take my shower now," I announce, as nonchalantly as possible, as I rise from the couch. Luke looks at me with his eyebrows raised, eyes wide open, and his sexy, half-grin. I know that gesture means he wants an invitation, so I grab his hand and tug on it.
He hops off the couch, throws me over his shoulder, and takes the stairs two at a time. "I thought you'd never ask, woman!"
The water is hot, but my man is hotter. He undresses me, opens the shower door, and slowly backs me under the water while he melts me with his kisses.
He pushes me back against the wall, then his hand reaches under my leg to pull it up.
My other leg joins it, and now both are wrapped around his waist.
He whispers lovingly in my ear, words meant only for me. The deep, bass timbre of his whisper reverberates through my body, and my hips move involuntarily. He melts me to my core.
An hour later, when the hot water is as spent as I am, Luke and I walk down the stairs. The sound of someone suddenly pounding on the front door makes me jump.
LUKE
We’re walking down the hall after our shower, the warmth of the water still lingering on our skin.
Just as we reach the bottom of the stairs, a sudden, insistent pounding rattles the front door.
Andi jumps, startled. Instinct takes over—I pull her gently behind me, my body tense and alert, shielding her from whoever is bold enough to show up like this.
“Stay here,” I murmur, my voice low but steady. I cross the foyer, every muscle tight, and peer through the peephole. A man stands on the porch, his posture rigid, anger etched across his face.
Without opening the door, I deepen my voice, letting it carry authority. “What do you want?”
“I need to speak with Andi Morgan. Right now.” His tone is demanding, entitled.
“Get off our property,” I reply, not bothering to hide my irritation. “This is your only warning.”
He doesn’t move. My patience snaps. I swing the door open and take two deliberate steps toward him, fists clenched at my sides. He must sense I mean it, because he finally turns and bolts for a news van parked at the curb.
I lock the door behind me, exhaling slowly. “Reporters,” I mutter. “It’s going to be a long day, Andi. They’re lined up down the street, all waiting for you.”
She sighs, frustration and fatigue in her voice. “No more interviews. The last one was hard enough. We’re counting on some of his victims coming forward, and I don’t want to scare them off with a media circus.” She pauses, her eyes narrowing in thought. “Except for tomorrow night when I’m singing.”
That determined spark in her eyes makes me uneasy, but I can’t help admiring her resolve.
She steps outside, facing the crowd of reporters gathering on the lawn.
“Listen up!” she calls, her voice clear and commanding.
“I’m not answering questions today. If you want answers, come to The Beta Room tomorrow night.
Anyone I see parked on my street or following me today will be banned from the club. Now, please leave.”
A few reporters scurry back to their vans; others linger, uncertain, until Andi fixes them with a pointed stare. Eventually, the crowd disperses. I watch her, pride swelling in my chest.
“Creative solution,” I say, pulling her close, my arms circling her waist. She leans into me, her arms slipping around my neck, and I savor the feeling of her body pressed to mine.
She smiles, brushing a kiss against my lips. “Thank you.”
“Now that you’ve cleared the house, what do you want to do today?”
She grins. “I need to go to the club later to practice my song, but until then, I’m all yours.”
I arch an eyebrow. “You’re not going to the club alone, Andi.”
She gives me a look—half pout, half challenge—but finally relents. She knows I won’t budge on this, not with everything going on. Besides, I suspect she doesn’t really want to be alone either. And if she thinks she can keep her song a secret from me, she’s got another thing coming.
As we settle together on the couch, I find myself tracing circles on her hand, searching for the right words. “Can I ask you something?” I say quietly, not quite meeting her eyes.
She looks up, her expression open. “Of course. What’s on your mind?”
I hesitate, then press on. “Have you thought about what kind of wedding you’d want? Or when? I know we haven’t really talked about it, but I’d love to hear what you’re imagining.”
She bites her lip, glancing away as if searching for an answer in the quiet of the room. “Honestly, Luke, I’m not sure yet. I always thought we’d have a long engagement and figure it out as we go. I just… I’m not ready to make those decisions right now.”
A flicker of worry passes through me. “You haven’t changed your mind, have you?”
She shakes her head, reaching for my hand. “No, not at all. I just want to take our time. I want to enjoy being engaged to you, without rushing into anything.”
Relief washes over me, though I’m surprised by how much I needed to hear it. “That’s all I want too. I’ll wait as long as you need, Andi. I lost you once—I’m not risking that again.”
She squeezes my hand, her smile soft and genuine. “Thank you for understanding.”
She wraps her arms around me to reassure me. “Stop thinking that, Luke.”
“What?” I ask innocently, even though we both know exactly what.
"I love you, and I do want to marry you. I just want this behind us before we start planning our life together. I don’t want it in the way at all. Okay?”
“Okay, baby.”