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There’s a comfort I can’t explain with Luke. A yearning just to be near him. I know he feels it, too. When I return to the house, I open the front door quietly, unsure of what environment I’m about to walk into. For all I know, he could be asleep, passed out in his room, or he could be up waiting for me. Perhaps in the mood to punish me for staying out too late, kissing someone else, or behaving as if I don’t belong to him.
When I walk into the living room, I find Luke sitting on the couch. He’s still fully dressed with his jacket and shoes on, reclining against the back with his legs splayed. He’s staring at me as if he’s lost, despondent, ruined, and I feel the pangs of pity in my chest.
I did this to him. We did this to him. This affair we’ve been having for the past three months is like a disease, and the symptoms are agonizing. Because I feel it, too.
I drop my purse on the bench by the door. Then I shuck off each of my shoes, tossing my coat on the rack before turning to stare at him.
Neither of us says a word until he softly mutters, “Come here.”
I don’t hesitate. I move like water sliding through rock. I’m hiking up my dress before straddling his lap on the couch. He doesn’t move except for his hands, which glide softly up my thighs.
His eyes devour me like he’s savoring every inch. As if he’s glad I’m here.
“You came back,” he whispers. His gaze doesn’t leave my face.
“Of course I did,” I reply.
“Why? Why would you come home to me, Sadie? I can’t give you what you want.”
My heart lurches as those words slice it in half. His hand reaches up to cup my cheek. The way he looks at me now, like he’s admiring me, is like nothing I’ve ever felt before. I’ve never felt so seen.
I don’t have an answer to his question. Because wanting a man I can’t have bears no explanation, at least not a good one. So I shrug.
“I don’t deserve you,” he mumbles.
“Don’t say that,” I argue. It feels like we’re crossing lines we haven’t crossed yet. Are we finally at the precipice, ready to speak the unspoken truth? Our genuine feelings. Instead of brushing them under kinky behavior and sex.
“It’s true, Sadie,” he says, sitting more upright and pulling me closer. “I will never be a good husband or a good father. It’s why I will never marry or have children. I refuse to disappoint someone the way my father disappointed me.”
Tears sting my eyes as I stare at him. “That’s why you don’t want to settle down? Lucas, fuck him. Don’t let his curse write your story. You’re not him.”
I watch him swallow as he stares at me with something that looks like hope on his face. “What if I let you down? What if I let you both down?”
“You could never let me down,” I reply, leaning forward to press my forehead against his.
He tightens his grip on me.
“Tell me we can make this work, Sadie. And I’m yours.”
There isn’t an ounce of hesitation in my mind. “We can make this work.”
“You and the baby could come to London,” he says with a sense of renewed excitement.
“Or you could come visit here,” I say. There’s a tingle of hope crawling up my spine, like standing on the edge of something amazing.
As his gaze drops to my lips, I freeze. I’m ready to seal the deal. I want the intimate touch of his mouth on me more than I’ve wanted anything.
“I should have kissed you at midnight,” he says as his hands glide slowly up my spine.
“We can make our own midnight,” I reply in a gentle whisper.
He replies with a soft smile. “I like that idea.”
“Then count down,” I reply.
“Ten,” he mutters as his touch drifts back down to my legs. “Nine, eight.”
His fingers reach the hem of my dress.
