Page 115 of Say Yes to the Death

“Coffee?” she asked, turning to walk into the kitchen.

“Here.” Luke offered a cup carrier with two dark roasts from her favorite coffee shop. He pulled a bag out of his backpack, revealing the tantalizing smell of buttery scones.

“Thanks,” Claire said. She took the bag and popped the scones in the microwave.

“Are you okay?” Luke asked, standing in an oddly formal way. He shut the door behind him.

“I’m fine. Just a little shaken up.”

He leaned against the back of the couch and crossed his arms. “Why didn’t you tell me about the abduction attempt?”

She picked up the coffee to give her hands something to do. “Because you smashed my heart into a million pieces in Paris and then I fell off a boat into the river.”

“Wait—you fell off the boat? Is that why I couldn’t find you?”

She nodded. “And then I left, of course.”

He crossed over to her and took her hand. She tried to snatch it back, but he gripped harder.

“Did you watch what I sent you?”

Claire nodded. Of course he wanted to talk about the documentary. He barely made it thirty seconds into a conversation without bringing it up.

“Do you understand what I’m trying to do here? For the victims and their families? For me, this isn’t even about the documentary. I could care less about how many streams it’ll get or how the critics rate it. This isn’t a career move for me anymore. Maybe it started out that way when I moved here, but then I heard their stories. I care about them, Claire. Ariel, Shawna, Jennifer, Kayley, Courtney. They’re not here to tell their stories. The media just treats them as a unit, an unfortunate set. But they lived whole, beautiful lives before he took that from them.”

Claire held a hand up. “I get it. I really do. I’m just not ready to tell my story.”

“I don’t want you to.” He cupped her face gently. “I’m sorry for even asking. I will give everything up for you—the whole project—right now. I don’t care who backs out. I’ll find something else. The only thing that matters to me is you.”

She met his eyes and sighed. “You can’t give up the project. What you’re trying to do is beautiful. Other than exploiting your ex-girlfriend, anyway.”

“Ex?” His face fell. He stepped back and collapsed on the couch. Rosie jumped into his lap and started licking his chin. He pressed his face against her fur.

“You didn’t get the message when I told you it was over and then fell into a dirty French river?”

Luke stood and walked over to her. His clothes were rumpled from the flight. A day’s worth of beard growth shrouded his jaw. His eyes were red, and his shoulders slumped. “You can’t tell me you don’t feel this,” he said, gesturing between the two of them. “Like a magnet drawing us together. A year ago, I would have never considered dropping a project for anyone, let alone an ex-girlfriend. But you mean something to me. Something I can’t explain.”

“Luke, I don’t know what to say.” She sipped from her steaming cup and set it on the end table. Maybe an earthquake would crack her apartment in two and she could just fall into the center of the earth.

He caught her wrist and pulled her into him, met her mouth with his own. Claire tensed, half-ready to test out some of her new self-defense moves, but then her body sank into the familiarity of his arms, simultaneously charged with energy and completely exhausted. Their tongues danced together, and she pressed herself against him, barely even worried about her mouth and how it probably tasted like a Starbucks dumpster. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, he felt like home. Something in her bloomed, but she took a step back, placed a hand on his chest.

“Look, I know I don’t deserve another chance with you,” he said. “But honestly, at this point, I’ll do anything. I can’t believe I’m saying this. I’ve never groveled before.”

She opened her mouth, prepared to shoot him down, but stopped. An idea had struck her like lightning. If he really wanted to show some remorse, she had the perfect solution. If she had to suffer through an awkward family dinner on Friday, so did he. She’d invite him. But she wouldn’t tell him that she was also going to invite his brother, George. Drunk Claire had found him on Facebook the night before.

“Come to dinner on Friday.”

“Done. Anywhere you want.” The storm in his eyes lifted.

“Here. With my biological father and his home-wrecking wife.” She stared him down.

Luke looked confused, but he evidently decided not to comment. “Huh. Okay. What can I bring?”

“Wine,” she said, taking another step back. “I have a feeling we’re going to need it.” Surely alcohol wouldn’t get her into any more trouble if she stayed in the confines of her own apartment. She’d start her cleanse the day after.

“I’ll be there.”

“Great. I’ll see you then. Seven o’clock, don’t be late.” She crossed to the front door and held it open.

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