Page 149 of Flawed

And I still want him. Last night, every emotion I ever felt for him swirled among all the new ones when he was with me. Yet, I'm not stupid. There's too much deception. How could any couple ever get past it?

Couple.

We've never been a couple.

The truth only hurts me more.

There's a knock on the door. My gut flips. I'm not ready to see Luca again, but I don't have a choice.

Zara bounces out of her seat, practically running to the door and yanks it open. She throws herself at him, "Hi!"

He embraces her back, his face lighting up with pure joy.

My jealousy flares again.

I need to stop. This isn't the person I want to be.

He steps inside with the most gorgeous bouquet of red roses I've ever seen.

Zara chirps, "Are those for me?"

He nervously pins his dark gaze on me. And damn him for doing so. Heat flickers in them as he sizes me up. He tears his gaze off me and refocuses on Zara. "No. I have something else for you. These are for your mom."

My heart swoons, and I wish it didn't.

Luca closes the distance between us and hands them to me. He quickly kisses my cheek, inquiring in a low tone, "How you doing, stellina?"

My butterflies flutter harder. Luca's wearing a black tux. He's the epitome of how a man should look in one—pure eye candy. His broad shoulders fill it perfectly. His torso tapers to his hips. And the outline of his muscular thighs is prevalent under his pants.

It's the first time I've ever seen him in a tux. A flashback of how our bodies used to fit together like puzzle pieces flares in my mind. I wonder if they still would. Then I reprimand myself because that's never happening.

There's too much between us.

His signature scent of white musk and patchouli mixed with weed floats between us, but it's lighter, as if he maybe hasn't smoked as much as normal.

Nothing has changed, yet everything has, and his stellina nickname causes a mix of joy and pain. But I don't reprimand him. I clear my throat, replying, "As good as to be expected. You?"

He offers a tiny smile. "Same."

We don't move for a moment. His gaze drops to my lips, and my heart races faster. He murmurs, "You look beautiful."

Heat fills my cheeks. I have no makeup on, and my hair isn't done.

He suddenly spins then reaches into his tux jacket. He pulls out a long box, holds it out, and declares, "This is for you, Zara."

Her eyes light up. "What is it?"

He chuckles, instructing, "Open it and see."

She cautiously pulls at the ribbon then slowly opens the lid. She gapes at it then at him.

He nervously asks, "Does the look on your face mean you like it?"

"Like it? I love it! It's gorgeous!" she exclaims.

"It was my mother's. I thought you should have it," he declares.

I don't miss the hint of sadness in his voice or eyes. My heart clenches the same way it always does whenever I think about the story he told me about his parents' deaths.

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