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Luka sits beside me, and I look up at him as he speaks. “What’s wrong? They called me saying you were sobbing your heart out.”
I wipe my eyes as the tears start again and shake my head. He pulls a handkerchief out of his front pocket and hands it to me.
“I told my cousin,” I say, my words punctuated by sobs. “I eloped… with a guy… and she’s mad… she says.. I’m… I’m… attention seeking… and ruining… her wedding.” I burst into fresh sobs as I try to explain that I’ve now been uninvited. I don’t know if he understands what I say, but the next thing I know, he’s pulled me into a big hug, and with my head resting against his chest, he holds me, stroking my back softly.
“It’s not your fault, Hannah. I’m so sorry your cousin was mean to you.”
I shake my head. “I just wanted to protect her.”
“I just want to protect you.” He uses his index finger to tip my head up to look at him. “We’re not so different, you and I.”
I pull away and wipe my eyes. “You must think I’m mad.”
“Not at all. Come on inside. Let’s make a drink to settle your nerves.” He stands up and offers me his hand.
So gentle.
I take it and follow him inside because I think, at this point, I need a drink. He walks me to the entertainment room and moves behind the bar. I sit on the stool in front of it.
He takes out a few things. “I’m going to make you a martini.”
“Really?” I ask.
“Something simple. I don’t want to show off all my skills just yet.” He chuckles.
I give him a small, sad smile as he starts mixing drinks. He shows off a little, flipping bottles and moving them in such a way that he clearly does this for showmanship.
“You’re good at showing off.”
“I was a bartender in my brother's club when I was twenty-one,” he admits. “It’s where we all get our first jobs.”
“Your brother sounds nice.” He pours the drink into a glass, pops an olive on a stick, and puts it in the glass before pushing it toward me.
“Thank you,” I say softly.
He pours another one and comes around the bar to sit next to me. We clink our glasses and sip the martinis.
“This is good,” I say, surprised.
“Don’t sound so surprised.” He smiles brightly at my compliment. “Like I said, I was a bartender.”
“Can you make fancier cocktails?” I ask curiously.
“Yeah, I remember most of them.”
“Maybe we can have a cocktail evening one night,” I muse.
We sit there and drink our martinis in a more comfortable silence than we’ve shared before, and after we’re done, I eat the olive. We both get up at the same time, and suddenly, we’re pressed together, our faces inches apart. I look up into his eyes, and he looks down into mine. He leans forward and kisses me gently. I don’t know why, but I respond earnestly to the kiss, enjoying his soft lifts crushed against my own.
He pushes me back against the bar, and his hands travel down my sides. Then, he starts tugging on my shirt. He wants more.
I pull away. “Luka. I’m sorry. No.”
He pulls away. “I won’t make you do something you’re not comfortable doing.”
Thank God.
He runs a hand over his hair. “So what are you going to do now?”
