Page 88 of Reluctant Chemistry

Her mother came into the sunroom and moved to fluff up CeCe’s pillows. “Look who’s here. Shall I make you both a cup of tea?”

He stood not two feet away—looking all kinds of awkward but still impossibly handsome in a black shirt and faded Levi’s—a huge bunch of flowers in his hand. “Thanks, but not for me.”

“CeCe?”

“No, I’m good too, thanks, Mum.”

Luka stepped forward as Andrea left the room, the flowers held loose in his grip. He placed them on the table next to her and sat in the adjacent chair. “How are you feeling?”

She set the book down next to the flowers, the effect of his presence immediate as she tried to play it cool. “Good, thanks to you.”

He glanced at the cover and smiled but offered no verbal recognition. “I was only doing my job.”

“That’s what you said last time.” She wanted to add ‘and look how that turned out,’ but Luka wasn’t here to be flirted with.

“What did they say about the leg?”

“Oh, the cut’s long, but not too deep. They were impressed by Melissa’s handiwork.”

She hated this—the small talk of ex-lovers turned acquaintances who share an unforgotten story, the strain in her voice as it struggled against the memories. He nodded and held her gaze, perhaps thinking back to the night of the benefit dinner, when they’d whispered lovers’ words into the darkness and the world seemed to steady its course for a few hours.

Will you dance with me? Hold me like I’m precious?

He stood and crossed to the window, her gaze following his every step. “This is a great spot,” he said as he glanced back at her over his shoulder.

“It is. Mum and Dad love living in Clifton Falls. Dad’s planting herbs to jump on ‘the organics bandwagon’ as he calls it.”

CeCe leaned back and closed her eyes briefly. While she’d be forever grateful to him, she was exhausted and couldn’t cope with small talk. She wanted him to sit beside her, hold her hand and tell her about the books he’d read recently, just like he used to.

As if sensing her unease, he turned to face her. “Anyway, I’d better go. It’s my day off, so I’m on my way to Mum and Dad’s for dinner. I’m pleased you’re on the mend.”

“Thanks.” CeCe thought back to when she met Vanessa and Liam at Mitch’s birthday party and then again at the gala. Luka was similar to his mother in his manner, but apart from his eye color, he most resembled his father. “They seem like good people, your parents.”

“They are. We’re lucky, aren’t we, to have such strong family support?”

She nodded her agreement. That was another thing they had in common: supportive families. Luka stilled, unspoken words perching on the tip of his tongue perhaps, but that stillness lasted mere seconds before his restlessness returned.

There was so much she wanted to say to him—share her regrets and the promises she’d made to herself as she lay on that bottom bunk in the cold, dark hut. But he seemed eager to leave, and she had no right to ask him to stay. “Thank you for the beautiful flowers, and thanks for holding back on the lecture.”

He gave a shrug. “You might want to add another PLB to your Christmas list.”

“No need. I won’t be repeating that experience again. Give me the beach any day.”

CeCe caught his quick frown. Apparently, she’d mentioned nude surfing to Melissa, back at the hut,but that part of Sunday was hazy. Was his mind returning to Sandwater Bay too? What else had she said that day?

When Luka slipped his hands into his pockets, CeCe raised her head and held his gaze. The anticipated kiss goodbye on her cheek didn’t eventuate, and she mentally admonished herself for expecting it. They weren’t friends. Not anymore. “Anyway, take care.”

“You too.” CeCe went to stand, but he stopped her with more polite words.Please don’t get up. I’ll see myself out. Bye…

42

The Yurt

CeCe drove down the Eastern Pacific Highway and into Carter Bay Road. She wasn’t familiar with the area, and as she traveled north in search of Luka’s property, the number of homes along the route surprised her.

No mailbox stood at his gate, just a rustic post withsixty-twocarved into its wood and stained in black. She looked out the windscreen to where a late-model SUV sat parked in front of a yurt.

As she followed the treelined driveway across the field, CeCe took a calming breath. To the right of a shelterbelt, a large contemporary house nestled into the hillside as if it belonged. And on the lot next door, row upon row of green strawberry plants sat atop their raised beds.

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