Page 82 of Forgotten Romance

It’s so tempting—and that temptation is becoming worse every day—to send in my resignation and be done with it. But if that happens, this is the result.

There’s no way Mack and I could possibly be happy living one bill away from losing everything. Sure, we have savings set aside now, but dipping into that is a slippery slope to foreclosure and bankruptcy.

I cup my hands and scream into them, wanting this to be fucking easy for once. We’ve done hard. We’ve paid our fucking dues. When does this end?

I’m torturing myself going over it again and again. Nothing has changed. My options haven’t shifted. The time of year has me kneecapped by how much I can achieve, and at this rate, I’ll be driving back to work in two weeks.

I can do it. I can get through, knowing that a solution is coming.

Except nothing has jumped out at you before.

I flip off the negative voice, snap my laptop shut, then snatch up my keys and head into town. For once, I don’t want to talk to someone. I want to buy a coffee to keep my hands warm, then take the longest walk along the boardwalk imaginable.

I pull up at Killer Brew and order, then hang back in the chilly air and wait. It’s as I’m waiting that a familiar face approaches, and every nerve in my body makes me want to turn away and pretend I haven’t seen him.

But I don’t.

For Mack.

If he says Luke is okay, I have to trust him.

Luke orders, cheeks as slapped red as his hair, and it’s not until he steps away that he notices me. That same friendly smile he was wearing the day he came to the house crosses his face, and the suspicious side of me tries to see through the bullshit.

“Davey, right?” he asks, approaching. I have to give it to him: it takes some serious confidence to approach the ex-husband of the man you kissed two weeks ago. He points at his chest. “Luke.”

“I know.”

“Ah.” His smile falters. “If it helps, all he ever did was talk about you.”

That does help chip away at my dislike of him. “It does. Slightly.”

Luke laughs and ducks his chin into his scarf. “You can’t blame me for trying. Mack’s a great guy, and I want to settle down. But I know he’s not my guy. I just want you to know that you won’t get any problems from me—even if you didn’t already own Mack’s whole heart.”

“Thanks.” I hesitate, then hold out my hand. Luke shakes it. “I appreciate you saying that.”

He shrugs, hands back in his pockets. “Yeah, I don’t like the home-wrecker thing some people are into. I like this town. I want to make some friends, maybe find a guy of my own, build a life here, you know? I don’t want issues with anyone.”

“If you’re true to your word, then you won’t have issues with me.”

“Thanks.” He chews the inside of his lip. “Are you … are you going to hate if Mack and I are friends?”

My automatic answer is fuck yes, stay away from him, but I swallow it down. “It will be weird, but I’ll get used to it. I trust him completely. And you say you won’t be an issue, so …”

His sigh is caught by the breeze. “That means a lot. I’ve been here a year and only really know people in passing. Ford and Orson are always great to hang out with, and I have a couple of friends from work.”

“Where do you work?”

“Up at Kil Pen. Do tours and stuff. It’s been great.”

“Hmm …” My gaze drifts to where I can make out a corner of it from behind Killer Brew. “Quiet time of year now, isn’t it?”

“Yep. Thankfully I’m one of their full-time staff, but there are a fair few people we said goodbye to in early November. So that part sucks.”

“I bet.”

My coffee is called, which gets me out of continuing the forced conversation. “Well, I’ll see you around.”

Surprisingly, I don’t completely dread that idea.

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