Page 54 of Just Trouble

My mom warned me and I didn’t listen. I turn away from Luke because a tear is going to break free.

“By marrying some guy you find boring to be with? That doesn’t sound worthy of you.”

Part of the seduction was the fantasy, I know. The vision of myself floating down the aisle in that dress, en route to happily-ever-after forevermore. The wedding was going to solve everything, set my place in the world, establish the boundaries ofmyworld. Getting married meant one less thing to think about, one less thing to manage, one less worry to have. It probably meant a whole suite of new worries, but I hadn’t gotten that far. It was a decreed step forward and I had been taking it.

Justin appeared to be a good choice of spouse. He was handsome, fit, courteous, successful—and I thought he was reliable. Did I love him? Sort of. Certainly not madly or deeply. I’ve proven that I can easily live without him. He’s proven that he was never going to defend anyone’s interests but his own. He never gave me butterflies the way Luke does, nor did he give me the kind of orgasms Luke has prompted.

But he was safe.

And safe, I realize, was what I always wanted to be. I wanted security more than adventure, contentment more than passionate love, certainty over uncertainty. Despite my mom’s misgivings about Justin, I was prepared to compromise to be sure of my place in the world.

What a terrible reason to get married.

That I could ever think that, that I still yearn for that kind of haven, should be proof enough that Luke is exactly the wrongperson for me. One night was fine—actually, it was great—but I can’t let myself be seduced into hoping for more. I will be, if he sticks around. And the result is inevitable. If—when?—Luke breaks my heart, I might never recover.

It’s inevitable that he will.

I meet his gaze, knowing he’s been watching me, wondering how much he’s seen.

“You’re right. You do need to go, and I need to get to work.”

“And I’m getting frostbite again,” he rumbles, his eyes narrowing. He looks stubborn and I have to admire that he’s ready to fight for what he wants—even if I know he’s wrong. “Talk to me, Daph.”

I’m already heading for the door, jingling my keys. “This can’t work. It’ll never work.”

“I think it worked pretty brilliantly last night.” He stops beside me where I’m standing at the door and grabs his jacket. His lashes do that thing, sweeping down to hide his thoughts, and I wish I knew what was going on in his heart and mind.

“One and done,” I say briskly. “Now we know and can move on.”

“It’s not that simple, Daph,” he growls, stepping past me onto the porch.

“It is,” I insist. “It has to be.”

He nods, looking across the lawn. “Did Justin do everything you told him to do? Except, you know, for the messing around part?”

“What difference does it make?”

“Just makes me wonder if that was part of his appeal. Some women like men who do what they’re told, like trained puppies.” He gives me a look so hot that it sears my soul. “While others prefer to feel alive, to be surprised, to celebrate every damn day.” His gaze sweeps over me and leaves me simmering. “Did you ever find out why your mom didn’t like him?”

I shrug. I don’t have to offer up that confession and I won’t. Even thinking of saying it out loud feels like a betrayal of her memory, a breach of trust. She confided in me, said she had to say it but she wouldn’t mention it again.

My mom was a great judge of character. I ache at the memory of her gentle words.I want only the best for you and maybe no man is good enough. I want you to be cherished, the way your father has always cherished me, not chosen because the two of you look good together. A man concerned with appearances might not continue to believe you’re the best choice, not when you’re older and it shows, not when he doesn’t love you for who you really are. I’m afraid, sweetheart, that he’s going to hurt you…

Now I am going to cry. It’s raining a bit this morning, the air filled with mist and fog rising from the ground. I feel like the weather is echoing my feelings.

Luke, though, has turned away from my silence. He flips up his collar and strides away, his steps so long that I’ll never catch up to him. His back is straight, his posture stiff. I watch him go, noticing how the rain beads in his hair, how it glistens on the shoulders of his leather jacket, an emptiness inside me that might never be filled.

Why are the right things always so hard to do?

I tell myself not to even try to catch up to him or call after him, then remember the car is full of Merrie’s stuff. By the time I back out of my driveway, Luke has vanished into the woods behind the United Church.

I remind myself to be glad. I tell myself to be proud that I’ve done the sensible thing.

But I can’t help feeling like I’ve let something precious slip away. I have the definite sense that my mom would be disappointed in me.

She’d know that I’ve sent Luke away because I’m afraid.

No wonder it doesn’t feel good.

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