Page 43 of Falling Hard
"Oh, now she doesn't want to tell us the rest!" I turned to find the man in the neon yellow and orange construction vest—the same one I’d snapped at before. "Day after day it was ‘Luke this, Luke that,’ yet she plans to keep the good part to herself."
Beside me, Luke was dying of laughter, clutching his sides as tears formed in his eyes, all at my expense. I stood there mortified. Finally, he pulled himself together and cleared his throat. "Since we owe everyone an update: The wedding is this spring, Olivia is the bride, and the only woman I have ever loved. Plus, here is the kicker: Solenne was only helping me to make Liv jealous."
Only in New York would a coffee pickup turn into a press conference about my love life.
"Really?" Tami yelled from behind the register.
Luke nodded and continued to address the customers as I lowered my head. "I've always been desperate to marry Olivia. Always will be."
"Well, since she booked all those castles, you two have many venue options to choose from for the wedding," said the man in the blindingly bright vest.
Luke looked at me, and I no longer wanted coffee. In fact, tomorrow I would find a new place. I walked out of the shop.
"Liv, wait up!"
I stopped, and when he got closer, warned, "Don't say a word."
"What would I say? I'm beaming at the fact that you really wanted me."
"Shut up. I wanted you from the start. I just hid it too damn well."
14
WE BELONG TOGETHER
Outside my townhouse window,New Yorkers walked by wearing heavier jackets and scarves. The weatherman was wrong again. It was crisp. Beautiful, though, he got that part right. I watched amber- and rust-colored leaves fall from the trees that lined my street, smiling at how photogenic it all looked, while I wrapped my hand around the cup. Dorothy made the coffee at home, so it wasn't the best I'd ever had. However, there was no embarrassment attached to it, which made up for the lack in taste. As I took another sip, Luke tipped the deliveryman, and I walked over and got comfortable on my new furniture. Yesterday, Luke and I agreed that once we got married, we could stay at the townhouse. He had no attachment to his penthouse, so my, I meanour, townhouse it would be.
"But I want a new mattress, couches, any surface where a man has enjoyed you, gone."
At the time, I’d chuckled at his simple demand and easily found a local luxury furniture store with a stocked warehouse nearby. Luke's job was to order new mattresses for all the bedrooms. As the delivery trucks pulled away, I smiled at how easy things were when you had money. Every mattress waschanged. My couch was gone, and now I had a better one, and Luke was happy. Money wasn't everything, but damn it made things happen quickly.
"You like it?" Luke asked. He positioned himself on the couch beside me and put his head on my lap.
He closed his eyes and exhaled contentedly. I marveled at how handsome he was. I watched him breathe slow and steady, lifting a hand to trace patterns on his forehead, through his hair. I could do it forever.
The heat of his body on my thighs spread in a way that made me feel both claimed and held. Luke settled there like he’d done it a hundred times before, like my lap was where he belonged. His breath evened out, and his head tilted a little toward my hand, encouraging the movement.
We didn’t speak. We didn’t need to. Everything that mattered had already been said.
We loved each other.
We wanted a life together.
And maybe even more than that, we knew each other a bit better.
There was no awkwardness or wondering how it would work. We had already figured that part out without meaning to.
Luke's arm wrapped around my waist, his fingers resting on my hip, and I was aware of every point where we touched. My thighs under him. My palm in his hair. His cheek brushing against my stomach. It wasn’t sexual, not really. But it was intimate in a way that stirred something deeper. As if my whole body remembered every late-night talk, every time we leaned on each other, every time I wished this was real and didn’t know it already was.
We fit. We had always fit. Just like this.
Then Luke repeated himself. "You still haven’t answered. Are you sure you’re not mad at me for making you toss the couch?"
"Why do you have to ask? Isn't it clear I like it?" I asked, looking down at him.
"No," Luke said, "you have that skill of hiding your feelings."
Proudly, I said, "That's why you never beat me in a game of poker."
