Chapter 8 #5
“Emmy, sweetheart, maybe you should take off your boots and your pants before you get in. We can put them in the trunk.”
Why? Why was he always seeing me when I was a wreck? And tonight, going to Luke’s for the first time when I was going to be super sexy and feminine and sensual, now I was covered in Hank’s beer puke.
I looked up at Luke. He had seen me in my absolute worst. And he was still standing there, right now with a garbage bag in his hands for my clothes, ready to help me.
Sudden tears flooded my eyes. Puked on by Hank in the ongoing AC/DC battle.
Well-played, Hank, this round went to you.
I clapped my hands over my mouth. A time to cry and a time to laugh.
Snorts of giggles escaped through my fingers.
Luke looked at me, then started laughing too, in a sort of amazed, perplexed way.
I leaned against his car and crossed my arms over my stomach, shaking with it.
Then I took a deep breath in through my nose to calm down, and it was a big mistake.
I stunk like, well, the floor of Roy’s Tavern.
“You ok?” Luke asked. I nodded. “You’re going to ride bottomless.
Sit on the bumper, and I’ll pull off your boots and jeans with the garbage bag. ”
We rode the whole way to his house with the windows wide open. Every time I looked over at him, I smiled.
“You’re in a good mood for a woman who just got puked on,” Luke commented.
How could I not be, when he unlaced my nasty Doc Martens and thoughtfully shook off the spew for me? “It’s not the first time I’ve been down Vomit Road. Charlie used to puke on me all the time. Well, spit up and puke. Pee, other substances.”
“Charlie? Is this recently?”
“No, no, I mean when he was a baby. He and Cassie lived with me until they moved up here with Nana.” I leaned my head out of the window.
Holy mother, I stunk. “He was such a cute little guy. I had to drop him off at day care to go to my classes and the lab and work, and they would hold him up to the window to smile at me, his little gummy smile.” Thinking of Charlie as a baby felt like a hug.
“I loved him so much as a baby. I love babies.”
“Oh, yeah?”
I turned back to look at him so quickly I almost got dizzy. “No, no, I didn’t mean it like that. Like, in any way. I’m not looking for babies. Or marriage. Or even anything, like relationship-wise.” Maybe I should stop talking.
Luke was nodding calmly. “I wasn’t around Macdara much as a baby. When I visited when she was born, Annie expected me to hold her, and it scared me to death. I thought her head was going to wobble off.”
I nodded too. I remembered holding Charlie for the first time in the delivery room, feeling like I might pass out. But I thought it was the impending responsibility that had made me lightheaded.
“But it will probably be different with my own kids, spending more time with them, being there all the time. I hope I’ll know what to do, a little bit more,” Luke remarked casually.
“It will be different with your own kids,” I answered, looking out the window again. I could feel myself smiling from ear to ear. He didn’t jump out of the car and run away screaming when I talked about babies. He wanted them, too.
Luke made a left, then another, then turned into the dirt driveway to his house.
I supposed I had been expecting something like Annie’s modern colossus, but Luke’s house reminded me a lot of all the older lake cottages in our area, with a big front porch and lawn dotted with mature trees.
It was large, but not gigantic like Annie’s house.
It looked old-fashioned, and welcoming, and I loved it.
“This place needs some work and some furniture,” Luke called from the back as he opened the door to retrieve the garbage bag of my clothes.
“I haven’t spent enough time here yet to make it nice.
” He closed the door and walked around to the passenger side, holding the bag away from his body.
I was contemplating the walk to the door barefoot. “Want me to carry you?”
“I don’t want you to end up with a hernia, and I really smell. No, thank you.”
We walked together to the front door. “I’m not sure if that was supposed to be a knock on my manly strength, but I can definitely pick you up if necessary,” he told me.
“Maybe later, when I’m vomit-free,” I suggested.
Luke showed me to the bathroom, which was, as the real estate shows said, in its “original condition.” But the house was actually lovely.
It definitely had the potential all those TV hosts were always gabbing about (back when we had cable to watch them).
Big rooms, lots of windows, and the best part, it was overlooking Lake Michigan.
You couldn’t get a more perfect spot than right on our beautiful lake.
After leaving me with a good supply of towels and soap, Luke left to hose off my clothes.
It really spoke highly of a man when he was willing to hose puke off your stuff, I mused, as I gratefully stripped down and stepped into the hot water.
Ahhh, hot water. I still loved it so. I took the most thorough shower of my life, trying and failing somewhat to keep my left forearm dry.
Finally, I was vomit-less, and it felt great.
Then I thought about where I was: Luke’s house. To spend the night. Oh, mother of pearl.