Page 12 of The Rebound
I have an image fixed in my brain of Pat, my potbellied, friendly neighbor, so when I open the door to a man who is most definitely not him, I am very confused. My head is level with his Adam’s apple and for a second all I can do is stare at it before the stranger clears his throat. Only then does my gaze snap up, not to the face of Pat Bailey, not to Tomasz who for a moment I thought must have popped to the village for supplies, but straight into the eyes of my nighttime savior.
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“Hi.” The word comes out as a high-pitched noise but it’s all I can manage in my surprise.
He cracks a smile. “Hello.”
“I’m okay,” I continue, thinking maybe he’s checking up on me.
“Glad to hear it. I brought a cheesecake.”
My eyes drop to the tin foil–covered package he’s holding. “Oh.” Weird. It doesn’t diminish his hotness but still weird. “You didn’t need to do that.”
He’s grinning now. “Ah, you know. I didn’t want to appear rude.”
“Abby?” Louise’s voice calls from the kitchen as my mind struggles to piece together what is happening and what should be happening.
“Thank you,” I say. “That’s really kind. I’d invite you in but—”
“There she is now.” Pat Bailey climbs the porch steps, his voice booming. “Abigail Reynolds, you haven’t changed a bit.”
“I’ve changed a little bit,” I say, my eyes flicking between them. “Pat, this is—”
“It will be nice for you two to catch up,” he interrupts, stepping past me into the house.
Catch up?
“He didn’t believe you were coming back,” Pat continues, slapping me on the shoulder as he heads to the kitchen. And then it hits me.
It’s less like two pieces of a puzzle fitting together and more like two cars crashing into each other as I look back at the man on my porch.
The gorgeous, sex-on-legs man holding a cheesecake is not some anonymous newcomer to town. He is not some mysterious horny fever dream I created in my mind. He is…
He’s…
“Luke?” Louise appears behind me. “Did you bring the hedge clippers?”
“I did,” Luke says. “Left them in the garden. Do you want me to make a start?”
“No, I can do it. We’ve got a stepladder in the shed. Abby?” Louise frowns at me. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I say, my voice faint to my ears.
He’s Luke Bailey.
Wimpy, weedy, next-door neighbor Luke Bailey. Luke Bailey who I used to play in the mud with, who I went trick-or-treating with, who I’m pretty sure Ishared bathswith. Luke Bailey who was by default my best friend growing up until I grew breasts and learned how to use eyeliner and he remained looking like he was twelve years old.
He no longer looks like he’s twelve years old.
“Abby!” Susan’s here. His mother. The whole Bailey family. They’re all here, crowding me and confusing me. “Louise said you were visiting. Now, aren’t you glad you came?” she adds to Luke. “You wouldn’t have seen her otherwise.”
“I saw her last night,” he says, handing me the cheesecake. “Brought her home.”
Louise turns to me. “You didn’t tell me Luke was the one who dropped you back.”
“I didn’t?” I glance around the curious faces. “I thought I did.”
She’s instantly suspicious but before she can say anything else Susan steps in, kissing me on the cheek.
