People at the office now gave him prolonged, twisting sympathetic stares. He fumbled tasks he’d found easy just months ago. He’d become indecisive and merely cruised his way through a bland version of his life. This wasn’t how he wanted things to be, but he had no idea how to break what had become an exhausting and insidious loop.
He stood and abandoned the report on his desk, set to take advantage of his property’s surrounding bushland and walking tracks. He’d promised himself exercise, solitude, and an end to all his moping this weekend. The time had come to put that promise into action.
He pulled his house keys from his tracksuit pocket and marched toward his front door. Maybe a run would make a difference, even though he’d been on a hundred runs since Agathe had left, and none worked to set him free.
It didn’t help that Max wouldn’t get off his case about rekindling what was now a well and truly dead relationship, even if Luke did engage in daily death stares with his phone, willing himself not to disregard her wishes by calling her anyway.
He swung open his front door, his gaze pinned high to the slender gum leaves dangling from the trees outside and the patchy blue-gray sky beyond. He pushed himself forward, out onto the landing, only to slam into something sizeable and solid.
Or maybe it slammed into him.
He wasn’t quite sure, not until he peered down to watch a woman bounce off his chest and land in a loud and cracking heap on the veranda floor. Her slender figure flailed on the ground before him, long nutmeg and sand-colored strands covering her face.
Hang on a minute, nutmeg and sand-colored strands? It couldn’t be…
“Luke?” The pile of person pushed her hair from her face, and her small, surprised voice slammed into him with the force of a freight train.
Everything within him halted—his breath, his thoughts, his desire to move. All he could do was stare.
Wide, dark eyes mirrored shock and confusion, his nymph woman with her warm, brown skin and delicate face. She practically glowed against the backdrop of spring flowers along his path, her beauty as devastating and painful as her absence.
“Agathe?” He settled back on his heels, chest tight, fingers clawing into the doorframe. “What are you doing here?”
Despite her crumpled state at his feet, she peered up at him, the once-strained muscles around her eyes appearing visibly relaxed. Not in a momentary way, but as if this were who she was now, and she’d merely returned to him from some serene exotic holiday, having finally found peace.
He should have reached out to her, apologized, and offered to help her up, but he couldn’t seem to move past her presence. Since his mind and body refused to work as he wished, all he did was stare.
She held up her phone, gaze not veering from his, not even for a second. “I got your messages.”
He pulled back. “Messages?”
“The… ah…” Her face paled. “The messages you…” She scrambled to her feet, her attention on her phone, before she flicked her gaze straight back up to him. “Oh, crap. You didn’t send any messages, did you?”
He shook his head, slow, because his mind still raced to piece this whole scene together.
Nothing made any sense. Not seeing her. Not even much of what she said. Then again, her pale cheeks made her appear equally confused. What is she talking about? Messages? What messages?
He stepped aside and opened his door wider, an automatic reaction really, since he was yet to decide whether to feel elated or angry that she was here. She’d ditched him, after all, and in front of all his staff. And still, his life had lacked without her, and he wanted to hear what she had to say. “Come in.”
She reeled back and swung her wild gaze around to where a yellow cab waited at the end of his path. “Oh no, I can’t. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s happened, but I’ll leave now.”
She turned away and began walking, though her gaze stayed on him a moment longer and her chin trembled in a hint she needed one last glimpse.
“Wait.” He lunged out but stopped short of actually touching her, his breath staggered, and his voice a hard and desperate plea. “Show me the messages.”
Her bewildered stare lingered for a quiet second, before her brows dipped, and she extended her phone to him. “This is really embarrassing.”
He flipped through the list of bizarre texts he’d supposedly sent, all the while calculating how he might rewrite the script on her last, hurried escape. There were details he wanted to clarify before he let her run from his life again.
He lifted his gaze to her, frowning. “The number is right, but do you really think I’d call myself a pain in the ass?”
One corner of her lip quivered, and she dipped her focus, a sign that maintaining any seriousness was too hard a task. “I thought you might have gone a little post-breakup crazy.”
He stared at her growing cringe and reddened cheeks, all while handing the phone back to her. “These were all sent on weekends.”
She shrugged, clearing her throat. “So?”
“So.” He frowned again. “The times and dates link up to Max’s visits to my house. My guess is he used my phone to message you, then deleted the evidence on my end before I could notice.”
Her face fell slack. “What tech-savvy guy doesn’t lock his phone?”
“One who doesn’t care too much for sports.” He bit back a smile, enjoying the way her gaze darted around his face, and uncertainty hollowed the space beneath her cheekbones. “Max and I have been hanging out a lot lately. I check work emails on my phone while he watches games. I must have wandered away a few times and left my phone unlocked in his presence.”
She tilted her head to one side, as though she didn't believe his theory. Or perhaps she simply didn’t want to believe his story, because that would mean she’d trekked all the way to Roseford for a man who hadn’t sought her out. But oh, how he’d wanted to. He’d wanted to, so very much.
“And you’re sure Max is the only person who could have sent those messages?”
His heart skipped at the idea she did want him to be the one who’d sent those texts.
“The Max theory is the only one that makes sense. He’s also the only person who knew I’d be here this weekend.” That, and the rat bag had gotten fed up with Luke’s refusal to contact Agathe and made good on his vow to take matters into his own hands. Luke paused, another thought entering his head. “And why would I call myself an idiot?”
A grin flicked across her mouth, the color of her irises seeming to grow richer. “Yet another message that seemed a little odd.”
She clamped her mouth shut again, shoulders trembling. The little witch restrained a laugh.
He leaned his weight forward, studying her closely. She’d changed in ways he’d thought impossible. She carried a lightness. Her eyes sparkled with an ease he’d never seen in her before, and her smile… Her smile seemed to spring from a place way deep within, where once that smile had seemed just a series of mere reflexes playing out across her face.
He wanted to reach out to her. To place his lips at each corner of her glorious grin. To drink in the months of her absence until he’d had his fill.
But I don’t have that right anymore. She left me, remember?
“I’m sorry about this mix-up.” The lines over her cheekbones smoothed, this action alone far more open and less defensive than the woman he’d known. “It’s clear you didn’t ask me here. You deserve your privacy, and I should go.”
She turned again, and his heart gave a tug, as if it fell from some great height and crashed to the unforgiving ground below. He couldn’t let her go. Not yet. Not again.
His feet worked of their own accord and took him a giant step forward, his voice ringing out before common sense intervened. “You’re here now. Stay.”
She spun around, her glance striking him, then hitting the floor.
“Oh right, I forgot.” He sank back on his heels, feeling a fool. “You’re the one who walked away last time. Of course you d
on’t want to stay.”
She blinked up at him again, as though fighting some conflict in her head. “I do, it’s just…”
He waited for her to finish her sentence, but she seemed to lose her ability. His breath labored under the weight of what he should have asked the second she’d appeared at his door, but he only now got around to voicing. “Why are you here?”
Her lower lip momentarily disappeared between her teeth. “I wasn’t happy with how I left things. I can’t say I had any other option but to leave, but I agreed with what I thought was your request for closure.”
A molten fire ignited in his chest, tension drawing at his muscles. He jammed his hands into his pants pockets and ground out his next words. “So you came here just to say goodbye again, but in a different way?”
She was right though, her first exit could have included time for him to ask all the questions still ravaging his mind, but then, maybe they could have also come up with a compromise to her leaving. One where he wised up to doing things differently with her, perhaps something that involved him being less protective of his needs, with more space for her to decide how she felt.
He relaxed his shoulders, setting his goal to not riling her. He wanted answers. Wanted to know what thoughts ran through her head. Wanted to know if she’d truly come here just to close the book on what they’d shared. “Is that it?”
She stared at him, gaze shifting about his face as if searching for an answer. The non-reply tore at his patience, but a lack of patience had gotten him into this mess in the first place.
He jutted his chin toward the waiting taxi and focused on how much he didn’t want her to leave and how he’d been too hard on her that first time. And yet, she’d still traveled here to see him today.
“Is the taxi leaving?”
She peered over her shoulder. “I asked the driver to wait.”
“In case I told you to leave?”
She shrugged. “Or, you know, you simply weren’t home.”
He jerked back at the smart-aleck reply, and a short laugh busted loose.
What has happened to Agathe?
The cold breeze skated her scent of sunflowers and rain to him, and the bright fragrance alone delivered a familiar sense of homecoming, her softer expression stirring hope.
Maybe she had changed.
Maybe he could be different too.
So, with that thought in mind, he focused on her barely perceptible smile, the one that made his heart lurch, and spoke his next words. “Tell the cab to go.”
29
A frown dragged at Agathe’s lips, while Luke pushed his door wider and made room for her to enter. She spun around and waved the taxi away, not all that sure she’d made the right choice. The sinking in her heart said she’d just waved goodbye to her only chance at escape.
She turned back to Luke, just as his jaw set firm, and his gaze burrowed into hers. “Come on in.”
While her life had lightened, his heavy tone indicated just how much she’d hurt him. He stepped aside, and she bowed her head, avoiding any extra glimpses of the deep lines marking his forehead.
The door clicked shut behind her, and her stomach roiled anew, her entrapment more real. A long list of things to say scrolled through her mind, but nothing seemed quite right. The more she thought about what they’d shared and what she’d thrown away, the less she knew how to approach this conversation. Hell, she had zero idea what went through Luke’s mind, and until she did, she couldn’t decide what wishes to commit to words.
Did she want to apologize?
Yes.
To throw herself at his mercy and beg for re-entry into his life?
Maybe.
Was she anywhere near entitled to that?
Hell, no.
And even if she got that second chance, could she provide the love and consistency he deserved? Who fucking knows?
A sudden pain twisted in her gut, the details of his living room blurring behind her fractured focus. All she saw was his weathered gaze studying her from a few feet away, followed by the understanding that, for the first time in months, they stood alone. Together.
The ache of seeing him radiated through her torso. She’d missed him. Missed this. And the comfort of having him near. Amongst all the uncertainty, her desires held true. She wanted back into his world.
Her diaphragm hitched under a stalled breath, her tummy constricting with a quick wave of nerves. There was no knowing if she’d get this next bit right, but sure as she loved her daughter, she loved Luke too and stared at her last chance to claim him.
Problem was, she no longer had free rein with him, no right to reach out verbally or touch him anymore. The wall between them felt so tall and expansive, she couldn’t even share a line of open banter. So much had passed, so much time and trauma, and she was largely to blame. All she could hope for was that he’d understand.
She’d needed to leave him, that much had been certain, but her recovery had come at the cost of love. And without that time away, she would never have opened to one certain realization. That her love for Luke could be an entity on its own.
A love so different from the bond she shared with Elsie.
Not a replacement, but a love in addition to what she kept for her daughter.
Perhaps that’s where she’d always been wrong. She did love Luke. Months of missing him had said as much. Only, she’d believed all forms of love or happiness would erode her link with Elsie. It had taken far too long to recognize that punishing herself was no way to uphold Elsie’s memory. And punish herself, she had.
All that remained now was a frozen inability to function in Luke’s presence. She could only stand before him, speechless and unable to move. Because she’d punished him too. Her regret ran so deep, she struggled with inaction, as well as a need to simply watch and drink the image of him in.
Enjoy the view, Agathe. Who knows if or when I’ll see him again.
Her hands balled at her sides; her body reduced to an aching lump of hurt. The wariness in his eyes made her want to purge herself of the wild emotions surging through her bloodstream.
“I…” Her throat tightened and heavy doubt held her back, but she swallowed hard and forced herself to speak. “I should apologize for my abrupt exit the last time we spoke.”
The echoing silence made her mouth dry; his unshifting stare made her heart sink anew. Her words were useless. Pathetic.
His stormy gaze reflected a turbulent sea of emotions, one she wanted to flinch away from, even though she held still. “And what about the public humiliation in front of my entire office?”
She cleared her throat and lowered her head. She’d once believed hope her greatest enemy. Maybe she’d been right. “Not my brightest moment.”
He took a loud inhalation, followed by a huffed-out sigh. “If I were a smarter man, I would have seen your exit coming.”
She stifled an urge to snap her focus up, her shame and fear so thick she couldn’t bring herself to look at him again. “And if I were a smarter woman, I would have left an opening for me to return.”
Her stomach churned, and she waited for him to say or do something. Anything.
His shoes made a series of heavy thuds against the floor, thuds that grew louder. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping he wouldn’t touch her. If he did, she’d break for sure.
“Agathe.” The soft rumble of his voice melted her insides. “Look at me.”
She squeezed her eyelids tighter and shook her head. No, if you give me hope only to turn me down, there’ll be no going back.
Losing Elsie had left her heart in pieces, and she had no idea what pain would swallow her whole if she lost this man again. For good this time.
Her senses jolted at the familiar scent of citrus and man drifting over her. What a strange reaction, coupled with a sense of homecoming, the knowledge that Luke now held the power to crush her.
“Agathe.” A hint of humor shook his tone.
Surely, she looked like a petulant chil
d refusing to face up to some major blunder. In other words, she looked like the complete and utter wimp she actually was.
Another rustle came, and a knuckle pressed beneath her chin, tilting her face upwards. Her heart fluttered, and like a clam fighting to stay hidden, she squeezed her eyelids tighter.
“Look at me.” His voice dropped to a gentle whisper, like a man coaxing an injured animal, like a man himself injured and aching. “Don’t make me kiss you.”
Her eyes flung open of their own accord, and her jaw dropped wide. She reeled back, passion somehow roaring through bare shock. “Why would you do that?”
He shrugged, a triumphant grin lighting his face. “I figured threatening to kiss you would get you to look at me. It worked, didn’t it?” His smirk sank, and his affected stare turned dark. “And because kissing you is all I’ve thought about since you walked away. That, and maybe I should have disregarded your wishes and searched for you, anyway.”
She shook her head, legs wobbly at what she was hearing. “That wouldn’t have worked.”
His strong fingertips slid to the curve of her neck. A light tingling rushed her body. “I know.”
She did all she could not to lean into his touch, focusing all her effort on the words she had to say. “I thought you’d be angry at me.”
His gaze dipped. “I was.”
“I’m sorry.”
His thumb rubbed the tendon along her neck, and he remained quiet for a while, the intimate gesture sending tendrils of warmth throughout. “I’d beg you to stay, but I’m not sure that would be fair.”
“Because I’m a mess?”
“Is that still true?”
She pursed her lips, quelling a swell of emotion, her mind dizzied at the thought of all the effort she’d put into her recovery over the last two months.
“I don’t know.” Everything was still so new, so untested, her life only now just knitting back together.
She peered at his collarbone, at the hollow of his throat peeking above his crewneck t-shirt. She swallowed hard, a sob surging up her throat. She felt so close to everything she never knew she wanted, and yet so far. Perhaps now it would be his turn to ditch her. “I’m starting to consider the chance there might be hope for me, but I still can’t give you any promises. I know you want promises. Someone who can stay—”
The Last Heartbeat Page 22