by Nadia Lee
But relationships aren’t like programming.
Of course not. Real life is stranger than fiction. Which is why I’m going to ignore the nasty feeling in my gut and paste on a smile. There’s gotta be a good explanation for those photos. Maybe they’re gonna be used for his next book or something. He’s decided to write about wholesome, sweet families, not the usual over-the-top spy thriller. Or maybe his next thriller will be about a little kid and his mom, so Luke was just doing some research and took photos. Or maybe they’re his long-lost sister and her kid. A sister who looks nothing like Luke…and has some really deep incestuous feelings for him…but hey, every family has a black sheep, right? Even my family has a couple—my lawyer brothers, Nathan and Stan.
Forget the damn phone and pictures, I decide. I click the button to kill the screen. There’s no way I can talk to Luke right now. What I want to ask him can’t be answered in the less than three minutes I have left before my meeting. I’m just going to have to come back to my computer periodically to make sure the day’s agenda stays the same. That’s a good way to make up for not running a full sixty minutes.
Of course, that’s easier decided than done.
I can barely pay attention to anything Tim’s saying in the meeting. I tell myself it’s the sleep…but that’s a lie. I already had two coffees, and it’s not even eleven.
“Sammi?”
I blink, then realize Tim’s looking at me expectantly. In fact, everyone’s gaze is on me. I feel my cheeks heat. “Um. Sorry. What?”
“The revised timeline? Any objections?”
“Uh…” Clearing my throat, I glance at the chart on the projector. The timeline is aggressive, but reasonable. “No. No, it looks fine.”
The meeting ends, and I walk out, supremely annoyed. I just don’t blank out in front of people like that. You don’t get to be the best that way.
“You okay?” Manop asks, which makes me feel even worse.
“Yeah.” I give him a wan smile. “Just a little tired.” Just keep thinking about the damn photos and possible explanations that don’t sound ridiculous.
And because I can’t help myself, I return to my desk and unlock Luke’s phone to look at the text messages. Luke doesn’t have a lot of texts. There are a few from his mom, then me and someone named Belinda, who turns out to be the woman in the picture. The boy’s name is Tom, and as I suspected, he’s her son.
As I scroll through, I see more—and none of them good. The reason why Luke left the way he did after our first date was because of a text from Belinda, saying Tom got hurt and he kept crying for Luke and was inconsolable. And when he was out of town for the entire week? He was with her and Tom.
Does Belinda know about me? Or has Luke also have her fooled?
I asked Luke for a full disclosure on our first date. He can’t possibly claim he didn’t realize he was supposed to tell me about Belinda and Tom. As a matter of fact, if they were nothing to him, he should’ve been able to talk about them so that if I ever found out, I wouldn’t jump to the wrong conclusion.
Or maybe he thought I never would find out, because his social media feeds are so bare.
There were plenty of opportunities for Luke to tell me why he had to leave the way he did, but he never explained anything. And because I’m an idiot, I decided to give him the trust he asked for and not press or try to dig around for answers.
The only logical conclusion is that he’s either married or in a serious relationship already—with a child on top of it. He decided not to talk about this. Instead, he asked for trust.
Trust.
My ass.
I can’t believe I bought that bullshit story about why his author bio says he’s married. It says he’s married because he is.
Something hot explodes in my chest. The skin around my eyes heats, and I feel the prickling of incipient tears.
A couple of developers laugh from the other side of the area, then high-five each other. It drags me back to reality. I can’t break down at work. Nothing makes guys more uncomfortable than a woman crying, and I can’t to impose my unhappiness on them.
After throwing the phone into my desk drawer, I rush to the bathroom. I’m alone—the app dev floor has very few female employees.
I grip the edge of the porcelain basin and stare at myself. I look horrible—eyes red and shimmering with unshed tears, dark circles underneath that my hurried morning makeup doesn’t hide, the blotchy red in my cheeks. But I feel much worse. This isn’t the usual mild sense of betrayal I experienced with my exes. Anger courses through my veins, but that’s to be expected. I’ve always felt furious when my exes cheated on me or did something equally stupid. But I’ve never experienced this kind of crushing betrayal and disappointment, maybe because I expected my exes to fail me in some way. The fact that I didn’t with Luke has left me shaking.
Fucking bastard.
Pushing myself from the basin, I start pacing, but it’s not enough to calm down. Tears keep threatening to overflow, and I crane my neck and look up at the ceiling. I will not cry and make an idiot of myself at work. It’s already bad enough that Luke’s made an idiot of me in our relationship.
I don’t have anything scheduled before lunch. Unable to stay inside the building anymore, I take the stairs and walk out, not bothering to stop by my desk. Maybe the frigid morning weather will help numb the pain.
Chapter Twenty-Six
If I didn’t have an afternoon meeting, I’d probably stay out until it was time to go home. The good thing about walking around in this unusually cold March weather is that it’s frozen me solid. I’m not even shedding any tears. Of course, I can’t feel my face or hands, but that’s a small price to pay.
I slowly make my way back to the office, eyes on the sidewalk in front of me.
“Sammi?”
I turn and see David, dressed sensibly for the weather in a long coat. “Hey,” I say, since I can’t think of anything else. “What are you doing here?”
“I just grabbed some lunch from the deli down the street. Where’s your coat?”
“Forgot it.”
Shaking his head, he shrugs out of his and drapes it around my shoulders.
It smells like David, warm and woodsy, with a hint of mint. “It’s okay. I’m not that cold.” I start to take it off, but he stops me.
“Your nose is redder than Rudolph’s, and your teeth are chattering.” He arranges the coat around me, tighter this time. “I know you’re supposed to be all totally outrageous and unpredictable, but what the hell are you doing out in the cold like this?”
“Just…had to clear my head.” There’s no way I’m unloading on David. “I wasn’t feeling well.”
“So you decided to freeze yourself to death?” He sighs. “Look, if you don’t feel well, go home.”
“I have a meeting.”
“The meeting can happen without you.”
True enough. Tim would order me home if he knew how awful I’m feeling at the moment.
“Also, I sent you a text, but you never responded,” David says.
“I left my phone at home. What did you need me for?”
“Just wanted to know if you were available for lunch.”
If this had happened a month ago, I would’ve been ecstatic. Jumped at the chance and twirled around. But right now, I can’t muster anything except “Oh.”
“I wanted to thank you for the help, and”—David shrugs, then gives me a sweet smile—“spend a little time with you.”
I stand there, staring at him. This is exactly what I wanted for four years, but now that he’s asking me out, I just…don’t know what to say.
The logical part says I should say yes because he’s the one I want. Okay, so there’s no spark, but is that really important? At least David doesn’t have a secret child or a woman tucked away somewhere. His family isn’t just nice; they actually like me. He’s smart. We both like superhero movies, and David loves dogs.
“What about Amy?” I ask, rememberin
g the name of his rebound Tamiflu.
“She went home,” he says. “Left last week. Just so you know, she and I are friends, nothing more.”
I had no idea. But then, I haven’t been following his Instagram and Facebook feeds. I’ve been busy with Luke.
I guess this means we’re both totally free. Clearly, my relationship with Luke is no longer…valid. And I can put my theory to the test—that the only reason why I haven’t felt any chemistry is because David and I were never both available.
David reaches out and holds my frozen hands in his, as though to heat them up. His skin’s so warm and nice, but I’m still not feeling any spark.
Is he?
“Sammi?” David prompts.
All the reasons why we are perfect for each other—family background, education, et cetera—are still there. And they’re so, so important. But I realize I want the chemistry too.
I want it all. I deserve it all.
And I understand if Luke hadn’t popped into my life, and David and I had finally hooked up, we wouldn’t have lasted long because I would’ve realized something was missing.
“You’re right,” I say, suddenly weary. “I should grab my stuff and go home early. I’m really not feeling well.” I gently pull my hands away.
He gives me an oddly disappointed look—not sure why, since he’s the one who suggested I go home—but manages a smile anyway.
We walk back together, and I return his coat in the lobby.
My head is throbbing. It’s like the universe has decided to get perverse with me, create a man who’s ideal in every way except for the fact that I don’t feel any chemistry with him. No matter how many times we come in contact with each other…even if I kiss him, he’s not going to turn into a prince for me, although he will for someone else. And I want a prince of my own.
As for Luke… He’s a very clever frog that managed to convince me he’s really a prince. But he’ll never turn into one because he… Well, he just isn’t.
It’s amazing how clearly you can see things when your mind isn’t working perfectly. It can’t come up with plausible explanations because the truth is really that simple. And that painful.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
One look at my face, and Tim tells me to go home before I can say a word. “Don’t infect everyone with whatever you have,” he says, his tone slightly gruff. “Go home. Get better.”
“Thanks.”
I start driving home, then suddenly realize I have to stop by Luke’s place to grab my phone and the stuff I left behind. It won’t take long; I don’t plan to stick around long enough for him to throw a bunch of BS at me to explain away what the woman and the boy mean.
As I pull up, I spot a blue Ford sedan parked in front of Luke’s place. My hands tighten around the steering wheel as I stare out the windshield. Belinda and Tom are standing in front of the car with Luke. I watch the scene like some surreal dream.
Luke is saying something to her, shaking his head and looking intense, then finally nodding when she puts a hand on his shoulder. Tom tugs at the hem of Luke’s coat, and he smiles at the little boy.
Belinda gives Luke and Tom a quick hug each, then climbs into the car and leaves. Luke’s eyebrows pinch. Maybe he’s debating how he’s going to hide Tom from me—he has to know I’ll be home in a few hours. Or maybe he’s trying to come up with a good cover story for the kid. After all, coming up with a good scenario is his area of expertise.
I park my car and get out. At the sound of the car door slamming, Luke looks at me, his frown deepening.
Why? Shouldn’t he be relieved whatever scene we’re about to have is taking place in front of the kid? He should know me well enough to realize I’ll temper whatever I say for the child’s sake.
“Sammi,” he says. His voice is surprisingly calm.
I blink, feeling like I’ve been sucked into Alice in Wonderland. Guys caught in a situation like this have a very clichéd MO. They stammer, then start babbling to explain what’s going on. It’s like one of Newton’s Three Laws.
“You’re back early,” Luke says.
“I left my phone,” I say instead of telling him I left work early because I feel like road kill.
The boy gazes up at me, then hides behind Luke’s leg. Jeez. Most kids love me, but maybe I look like a horror show. I feel like one.
Without waiting for them, I walk into the house and look for my phone on the table where I left it yesterday evening. When I don’t see it, I turn around. “Where’s my phone?”
“Here.” Luke and the kid have followed me in. He reaches into his coat and hands it over.
I give him his, and unlock my unit to make sure it’s really mine. Yup. I unplug my charger from the outlet and shove it into my coat pocket.
“Tom, why don’t you go upstairs? You can play the Spider-Man game on my iPad.”
The boy nods and runs up the stairs with an excited smile.
So Tom’s not unfamiliar with Luke’s electronics, and what’s on them.
I wait until the kid’s totally gone, then turn to Luke. “Who’s that?” I ask, keeping my voice low.
“His name is Tom.”
Anger surges at the mildly cautious way he speaks. I don’t get it. Why am I the only one freaking out? “Nephew? Cousin? A friend’s kid?” When Luke doesn’t answer immediately, I add, “And the woman? Who’s she?”
“She’s…a friend.”
“A friend. So why is she leaving her kid with you?”
He sighs. “It’s complicated.”
“I guess it’s because you can’t just go out of town to her place.”
Luke gives me a sharp look. “Did you…” He looks at the phone he’s been holding. “Did you hack into my phone?”
“There was no hacking. You used your birth date as your passcode. By the way, if you don’t want people to unlock your phone, you should have something other than a birthday or the last four digits of your social security number.”
“I thought we decided to trust each other.”
“Which is why I’m giving you a chance to explain your friend and Tom, who, by the way, looks remarkably like you.”
Luke presses his thumb and forefinger between his eyebrows, like somehow I’m the crazy, unreasonable one. Except I’m a hundred percent rational. And logical.
And the more time he takes to think, the more I die inside. God, how stupid I’ve been. He’s like every cheater I’ve ever dated, just a lot smoother and cleverer.
“Or is it not even worth an explanation because it’s too obvious? They’re your family, aren’t they? Your author bio is correct, and you lied on your Facebook profile that you’re single.”
“I am single. I didn’t lie about that.”
Right. Because I’m going to believe whatever he’s saying now. “Does Belinda know about me?”
“Yes,” he says firmly.
I raise both of my eyebrows. A curveball, but not something that’s going to throw me off. “Okay, so open relationship. Nice for you, but not my thing.”
“Sammi—”
“Don’t you Sammi me.”
Luke inhales sharply. “What about you and David?”
“What about him?”
“You both looked awfully cozy today.”
“What?”
“I saw you outside, when I went over to Sweet Darlings Inc. to drop off your phone.”
“Except you didn’t.”
“No.” His jaw flexes. “I didn’t.”
“Are you accusing me of cheating on you with David? Because if—”
“I’m not accusing you of anything. I was jealous, but decided maybe there was a good reason, and I was going to talk to you about it.”
“There’s nothing going on between me and David. No spark, no romantic possibilities. Nothing.” I continue without giving Luke a chance to respond. “Happy now? He gave me his coat because I left mine in the office. I had to take a long walk to calm myself when I realized I’ve made a terrible mistake.”
Luke shakes his head. “You haven’t.”
“Then explain so I can understand. And don’t give me that shit about trust. Trust is me doing my best not to jump to conclusions and being willing to listen to your explanation with an open mind. You can’t expect me to have blind faith when you won’t explain anything. That’s not how it works.”
“Sammi…”
“I told you what happened between me and David. Why can’t you tell me what’s between you and her? Or the kid?” I gesture up the staircase. It’s all I can do to keep my voice down and speak calmly, not because I care what Luke thinks anymore, but because I don’t want Tom to hear us argue. None of this is his fault. “You even cut our first date short to run to her. And I’ve been feeling terrible every time I thought back on it, thinking it was my ex who ruined the whole thing with his damn texts.”
Luke runs a palm across his forehead. Maybe he can’t think of a plausible scenario. After all, this is real life, not some book he can rewrite if he doesn’t like the initial outline.
And I know—for real—that I’ve been the biggest idiot. Tears fall from my eyes, and I grind my teeth so I don’t make any sobbing sounds.
“Sammi…” He reaches out as though to dry my tears. “Just give me a day or two—”
I step back. “You’re despicable.” My voice comes out nasal, and I loathe how pathetic I sound. I hate it that he wants time—as though time can undo what just happened—and I hate it that I want to give into his request. “Since we aren’t going to talk, I’m getting my things.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Michelle walks in and toes off her shoes. “What are you doing here?”
“Resting,” I say, carrying a fresh mug of honey and ginger tea to the living room. “I left early because I felt like death.”
I park my ass in front of the TV and continue watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer, doing my best not to make eye contact with my best friend. My eyes are red and gross after that bout of humiliating crying. The only silver lining is that I did most of the crying at home, without Luke watching.