Page 14 of I Still Love You

Blocking my path, he says, “Ah, who am I kidding?” His eyebrow arches, his head angling to get a better look at my ass. “I totally would tap that. More than once if the opportunity presented itself.”

“Swine,” I comment. “The body you should’ve been born with.”

He shrugs a shoulder. “A lot of women appreciate my lack of filter, Layla. They find it…alluring.” Alluring is the last damn thing I find him, and I’m tempted to tell him that, but I’m confident he already knows. “One of these days you’ll break,” he says, shifting to the side to allow me room to pass.

“Don’t count on it,” I snide, lifting my hand to wiggle my fingers in adieu. “Besides, just because I don’t wear a ring doesn’t mean I’m not in a relationship.”

I don’t know why I say it, but then I realize it’s those beady, dark eyes gliding along my body for the hundredth time, and I just don’t want to deal with it for the duration of my contract. With how he operates, it’ll only be a matter of time until we’re bumping into one another again.

Like a fish that can’t decipher between real and fake, he hooks onto my words and takes a step closer. “Really, now? That’s a shame.”

“Maybe for you.”

“Definitely for me.”

Gross. I blink, confused as to why I’m still standing here entertaining him. “Okay. I’m going now.”

Andrew moves in step with me when I walk away, following me back to the emergency department like a lost puppy. “Does he really exist?” he questions, humor tracing the features of his heartbreaker face.

“What?”

“Your boyfriend,” he answers. “Does he exist?” He tucks a hand into his pant pocket, the movement making me latch onto the badge hanging from the breast pocket of his polo. With his name centered on the laminated badge, Radiologist sits directly underneath.

“Go away, Andrew.” I hold my coffees close to my chest and pick up the pace, but his legs are longer than mine, so he doesn’t have an issue keeping up.

“Humor me.”

“No.”

Nervous goosebumps swell along my arms when he grins. How did he get through schooling and maintain a job at a hospital but can’t take a hint when a woman wants him to screw off?

I look ahead and notice the four-way in the hall, indicating I’m almost back at the emergency department. In less than two minutes, I’ll be in the safety of it without Andrew checking me out—shiver.

I rearrange my coffees in the crook of my arm, preparing to stretch my badge to unlock the restricted area door for emergency personnel. I’m almost there. Almost have both slippery-from-condensation coffees to safety with me when I round the corner and bump into a body. My face squishes into a shirt the same periwinkle blue as my scrubs, and my free hand—the one meant for my badge—flies to protect my coffees from shattering against the ground.

“No! No, no, no,” I shout as I stabilize the bottles, moving back and shivering at the way Andrew’s hand presses against the small of my back. If I didn’t need to get out of here a moment ago, I definitely do now. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see—” My words die on my lips when I step back and crane my head up at my absolute worst nightmare. I’m tempted to quit my job and play the lottery because if I’m able to create bumping into the two people I haven’t wanted to see all day, then I’m sure I can hit the jackpot with ease.

“Luke.” My lips part in surprise. I shuffle back, pressing myself further into Andrew’s hand. I can’t bring myself to think about how this looks from Luke’s perspective. Andrew, entirely too close, makes my skin crawl from the heat of his hand. Disliking that he’s so close, I step forward, bypassing the warning blaring in my head. Luke is the lesser of two evils—even with our past—so I reach for his hand at his side, curling my fingers between his, and make the second biggest mistake of my life.

“Andrew, you remember Luke, don’t you? My boyfriend.”

6

Luke

Because our office doesn’t usually offer weekend appointments, Mondays are the busiest. My back-to-back schedule since six a.m. is proof of that. If it weren’t for Troy Clemenson’s—an outfielder for Quaint University’s baseball team—cancellation, I wouldn’t have the next thirty minutes free.

I push through the door to our office building, which is constructed next to Regional’s emergency department entrance, and head straight for the hospital cafeteria, knowing their hot meal of the day is waiting for me. I nod to the lady at the check-in desk inside the E.R.’s waiting room, briskly walk down the hall next to it, and check the time.

Judging by the foot traffic up and down the halls, I’m worried there might not be any food left. Moving faster, I haul ass, curving my way around a person walking at a snail’s pace. Rather than slowing down as I approach the four-way intersection in the hall, I keep my pace. Not having much time adds to my impatience, and I walk faster, only to have someone smash into my chest.

Jesus.

If this weren’t a hospital, I’d be inclined to rip this person a new ass, but then I glance down and am distracted by the golden tint of the person’s hair. It’s almost the same shade as—

“No! No, no, no.”

I suck air through my teeth, my jaw clenching. Looking toward the ceiling, I squeeze my eyes shut for a second. I’d know that voice anywhere. Any-fucking-where.

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