Page 13 of The Rebound
“Look at you,” she says. “I’d barely recognize you if it weren’t for that hair.”
“Dad says she looks the same,” Luke says, shrugging off his jacket.
“Did he? What do you think?”
I freeze as his attention flicks to me but Luke only smiles.
“Come in before you freeze,” Louise calls, and Susan closes the front door, following my sister into the kitchen.
For a moment we’re alone. Luke’s still looking at me with a glimmer of amusement and I’m hovering like a weirdo clutching his cheesecake.
“I…” It’s as far as I get. I don’t know what else to say. Thankfully he doesn’t seem to mind.
“Come on,” he says, taking pity on me. “I’m starving.”
He walks in ahead of me and my eyes stray to the way his jeans cling to him before I realize what I’m doing.
Luke Bailey?!
I force my feet to move under me, my thoughts scrambled as I follow him into the now cramped kitchen.
Louise has pulled the table into the center of the room and the chairs are set so that she and Tomasz are at either end while Pat and Susan sit opposite.
Luke sits in the chair beside mine.
Luke Bailey who knew who I was this entire time.
I’m Luke, by the way.
He was probably waiting for me to recognize him. But I didn’t. Because who in their right mind would? I picture him as the kid I once knew, pale and skinny, all elbows and knees as we chased each other around the playground.
There should be an automatic report when you visit home, some kind of newsletter detailing all the changes you need to know about. All the marriages and all the glow-ups, so situations like this don’t happen.
Louise is still looking at me like I’ve lost my mind and maybe I have because when Luke pulls out my chair it takes all my willpower not to simply stare at him.
“This looks delicious,” Pat says, pulling the butter dish toward him.
“It’s nothing. Just some leftovers.” Louise motions for us to start eating and I sit, tucking my chair in as Luke does the same.
I wonder if it’s too early to ask for wine.
Susan smiles kindly at me from across the table, her face more lined than I remember. Her hair is no longer honey blond but a light silver that she still wears down to her shoulders. A good soul, Mam used to say. I spent my childhood in her house while my parents worked. Some weeks I had dinner in her kitchen more often than my own.
How funny to think one day I left it for the last time and didn’t realize it.
How funny her son turned into a freaking Adonis.
The Baileys dig into their food while Louise, Tomasz, and I pick at ours, still full from our pancakes.
“How did you two meet yesterday?” Susan asks. “I thought you had your course, Luke?”
“I did. I found her on the way back, waiting for a bus.”
“What bus?”
“Exactly,” he says, and I force a smile as they laugh.
“That was lucky.” Susan watches us for a moment, her chin propped on her fist, before turning to Louise. “When’s that new couch of yours coming?”
