Page 58 of The Playboy's Playbook

“Open the damn door before I kick it in!” Luke shouts again. He’s burst through many doors to get to me over the years, so I know he’s serious and doesn’t care about breaking another one, but I want my security deposit back.

I quickly open the bedroom door, and Luke greets me with a punch to the face, sending me stumbling back, clutching my jaw. Can’t say I don’t deserve it.

“How could you? I can’t even find the words to say to you right now, I’m so fucking pissed. I don’t hear from you for a couple of hours and you managed to drink a full case of beer and a bottle of whiskey! And don’t try and deny it – I saw the fucking trash can.” Luke points his finger at me, his voice deep and full of anger and disappointment.

“You don’t have anything to say?” Luke asks, setting his arms down by his side.

I just stand and take this lashing because what else can I do? I look at my best friend and I can tell he wants to cry. I hurt him just as much as I hurt Laila because all of the work Luke put in to make sure I was okay, giving me a second chance at life, went down the drain in less than a week.

“I’m sorry,” I squeak. I look at his gray eyes and I fall apart. “I just…I’m sorry, Luke.”

I walk to the bed and sit, hiding my face in my hands. Luke lets out a heavy sigh and a few seconds later, the bed dips under his weight. He sits next to me silently, letting me let it all out.

“Why can’t I be strong enough to resist a fucking bottle? Why can’t I be strong enough to actually put up a fight for the love of my life without fucking something else in the process? Why can’t I be…enough?” I cry.

And realization hits me that Luke’s here, which means so are the boys. I can’t have them see me like this. “The boys? I can’t be here like this, I need to leave.”

I jump up and put on my sneakers and move to grab my keys when Luke stops me.

“I dropped them off at my brother’s house, Matty. It’s just me and you.” Luke’s voice is softer now, a stark contrast to him just a few minutes earlier. “Sit back down.”

I follow his command and sit next to him on the bed and neither of us make a move to speak. We sit in silence and let the sounds of the thunderstorm in the distance fill the air.

“I didn’t sleep at all last night because I wasn’t just worried about you. I was scared for you. I’m thankful that Laila came here and you weren’t alone. Had you not told me that she came over, I was going to be here. Your punishment would’ve been watching the boys all morning with a fucking hangover.”

“Without Laila, I’m nothing. What do I do, Luke? I really fucked it with her.” The tears spill out of my eyes again. “I love her and I lost her.”

Luke pats me on the back and pulls me to his side into a hug. He wraps his arm around my shoulder and lets me cry. “Just give her time, Matty.”

Just give her time.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

LAILA

One Year Later

Fuck me, why is dating so damn hard? Tonight was my third date with this guy I’d met at a work event and it went about as well as getting Nola in her harness to go on a walk. I don’t even remember the guy’s name.

Daniel? Brandon? Something or another.

I thought that I’d have an easier time going on dates, moving on with my life. I quickly found out that dating is a very hard thing to do when my mind has been stuck on one person for a year.

Three hundred and sixty five.

That’s how many days it’s been since I ended things with Matthew. That’s how many days it’s been since I’ve felt genuine happiness. That’s how many days it’s been that I’ve been living with a broken heart. That’s how many days it’s been without so much as a spark that ignites my entire body.

Three hundred and sixty five days since I’ve felt love.

Every so often, Hannah posts pictures of her son, Hunter playing with Matthew. Those pictures are my favorite. I’m glad that Matthew is speaking to his family again.

The last picture Luke posted with Matthew was seven months ago on New Year’s Day. Luke hosted a party for the construction crew and Matthew was posing with a smile on his face and holding two thumbs up as he stood behind a buffet table with an apron around his torso.

The smile didn’t reach his eyes.

He cut his blond hair short, the sides tapered close, but the top was still a chaotic mess like I loved. His hair was lighter, almost no sign of the brown streaks that used to flow through it. His ocean blue eyes were still my favorite part of him.

But they were full of sadness.

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