Page 141 of Say Yes to the Death

Luke shoved a hunk of bread in his mouth and nodded encouragingly at her.

“Let me just try to put into words exactly what I’m feeling. This isn’t exactly easy for me either.”

She took a sip of wine and closed her eyes. Where to begin?

“Just to recap the past three months of knowing each other, you have neglected to tell me that I was likely the target of a serial killer, lied to me about having a brother, forgotten to mention until the worst possible moment that your producers wouldn’t go through with your documentary without an interview with the only surviving victim of the killer, who happens to also be me, and?—”

She paused, taking a deep breath and another big sip of wine.

“You didn’t tell your mother that you had a girlfriend. Do you see the pattern?”

“I do,” Luke said, making intense eye contact with the cutlery that he was arranging yet again to be perfectly flush with the edge of the table.

“However, I also suck,” she said in a softer tone. “I don’t deal well with conflict. I ran away in Paris. I didn’t tell you about my biological father. I invited your idiot brother to dinner to punish you. I didn’t tell you my suspicions about ESA because I was angry with you. I won’t talk with you or Mindy or anyone else about the idea of expanding the business because it terrifies me, and I’m using Barney as an excuse. Hell, speaking of Barney, I told him he was a great friend in college.” She flung one hand toward the ceiling. “The man who tried to murder me. That’s how bad I am at communicating.”

She stretched across the table and took his hand again. “I’m sorry for my failures. I’m a guarded person. Damaged goods. I don’t always tell you what I’m thinking or how I’m feeling because I’m not used to having someone to rely on. Obviously I have some abandonment issues, daddy issues, control issues, and probably a whole slew of other things I haven’t even recognized. Maybe I do need therapy,” she muttered to herself.

Luke pursed his lips. He didn’t nod or acknowledge her statements in any way. Smart man.

She plowed on. “Anyway, I appreciate so much that you were willing to talk to me about what you were feeling. So, starting today, I want to be completely, painfully, open and honest with you. Since you left, you missed some things.”

Luke leaned forward and maintained eye contact. The salad sat untouched between them.

She ticked items off on her fingers. “My bio-dad came back into my life just so he could use me to talk to Barney. A bunch of frat boys blew up my car. I learned self-defense, and it’s helped a little with managing some of my fear. I developed what Google says is probably an anxiety disorder. Or maybe it was always there. My sleepwalking problem is way worse than you know. I straight-up sleepwalked into a lake after Paris. Sawyer has been a huge help to me these past few weeks,” she said, wincing at his tightened grip.

“Sorry,” he said, relaxing his hand. “Go on.”

“First of all, there’s nothing going on between us. We’re friends. I know you still don’t fully trust him, but I want you to try. For me. ESA is the one doing all of this to me. He’s been a really good friend. And, if it puts any points in his column, Kyle trusts him too.”

Luke sighed, leaning back in his chair.

“I’ll try. I’m grateful you had someone to look out for you while I was gone.”

Claire took another deep breath, trying to calm the heart that seemed to be beating in triplicate against her ribcage. Why was telling the truth so cringey?

“The last thing that happened while you were gone genuinely surprised me. I didn’t want to admit it to myself. In spite of everything we had been through, in spite of how angry I was at you”—she paused, searching for the right words—“I missed you,” she said quietly. “Something would happen, and I would immediately want to know how you would feel about it. How you’d react, what you’d say.”

“I missed you too,” he said, taking her hand again, pressing it to his lips.

Warmth tingled in her fingers. “So, if you’re willing to try this again, I’m willing.”

He stood, knocking his chair onto the floor. He pulled Claire out of her chair and crushed his mouth to hers. Her hands snaked around his waist. Every familiar muscle rippled under his suit jacket.

Apparently, he had had enough of talking.

He picked her up and wrapped her legs around his waist, sliding the hem of her dress up her thighs.

Her body viscerally ached for him. She wrestled with his jacket, wrenching it off and tossing it onto the floor. Her back arched as he slid down the sweetheart neckline of her dress.

She ripped at the buttons on his shirt, yanking and pulling as she tried to keep her balance. Finally he was free, bare chest bathed in the dying light.

They stopped for a moment, looking at each other, and then at the door to the ballroom.

Luke gripped her tighter and carried her across the marble floor, banging the door open and stepping down the hallway.

“Keep it warm for us, will you?” he called down the hallway before carrying Claire up the stairs. She wasn’t going to be able to look Mario in the eyes for weeks.

They crashed into the bedroom. She held him so tightly that her fingertips would probably leave bruises. He laid her on the bed, peeling her dress away and revealing more of her body, inch by inch until she was completely exposed. She reached for him, and they collided.

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