Page 90 of Promised Love

Lukas turns me around once more before gently nudging me forward to open his closet.

And with his permission in place, I waste no time.

I pull the door open.

What?

After a moment of initial shock, I burst into laughter. The closet is divided into three sections.

Denim. Leather. Cotton.

“What the hell is this? It looks like a lost part of a store’s menswear section.” I’m still grinning when I turn around. “How is everything so neatly lined up?”

“I’m a neat person,” he says seriously, making me laugh a bit more.

“I get that, but this is…too neat.” I push around the hangers holding the leather jackets and then his multiple jeans, which look almost exactly the same, and finally the cotton of his T-shirts.

My curiosity for this foreign organizational system of Lukas’ is unleashed as I open the next door to find a few formals hanging, again, perfectly.

“What kind of bachelor are you?”

“The clean kind.” One side of his lips curl up, but when I don’t laugh, he knows I want to know the real reason. Lukas swallows. “My mom… She had to… I mean, she liked things in order. Everything in the house had a place.”

My chest squeezes hearing him talk about his mother. I know how much he misses her.

“But once she was gone, I was living…in a boys’ home for some time, until my grandparents found me.” Lukas grabs his neck while I stand there, unable to understand the connection between his perfectly stacked clothes and his tragic childhood. “I did things I’d seen my mother do, hoping the reward would be affection. I never lived in a mess. I never complained about anything. I put others above myself, above my safety. I just wanted everyone to like me.”

His words hit my chest hard, and I throw my arms around his neck. He crushes me into him and then whispers, “These past weeks with you are the only times in my life I’ve felt like there’s someone, someplace, that is…just mine.” The raw anguish in his voice is like a thousand knives thrown at me. His heart pounds so fast under my hand that I worry he’ll have a heart attack.

“It is,” I whisper.

My eyes tear up as Lukas places a soft kiss on my forehead. I have never felt more cherished than this moment.

After a few seconds, he pulls back and his breathing has returned to normal. He squeezes me tight and then says out of the blue, “I’m making breakfast. Come on.”

Because I like this carefree version of Lukas much more, I say, “Wow, what a nice way to start a Valentine’s Day.”

There’s a twitch in his lips, and he circles my waist. “What else do people do today?”

“Um, flowers”—I raise a finger and then another—“gifts and”—I now have three fingers up in the air. “Sex. Lots and lots of sex.”

He chuckles. “Has my little wife turned into a nympho?” He grabs one of his T-shirts from the hanger and puts it over me before pulling me out of the room. “Come, eat first.”

“I would have loved to come first and eat later.”

He swats my behind. “You’ve become too naughty.”

“What will you do to teach me a lesson?” I jump onto one of the kitchen barstools.

“Teach you a lesson?” His eyebrows jerk up.

My heart does a crazy, happy dance watching his laugh. Lukas puts batter on a waffle maker and finally locks it. “I’ll tie your sweet ass to the bed and not let you come.”

I melt into a puddle, my legs turning wobbly watching Lukas’ smirk. It’s a good thing I’m sitting, otherwise I’d have been on the floor by now.

Before I can tell him it sounds like a perfect punishment, Lukas places a plate with two waffles before me. He drizzles some syrup on top, and next to it, he places a cup of coffee.

“It’s with oat milk. The way you like it.”

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