Page 61 of I Still Love You

I shake my head and press up to my feet. I can’t ask her on my knees. It wouldn’t be right. I scrape my teeth over my lower lip and stare into the blue of her eyes. “I can make it, though I might have a better chance if you agree to attend the game’s charity dinner with me.”

26

Layla

Each time I reflect on Luke’s invitation, I talk myself down, remembering that while we’ve called a truce (sort of), he’s not looking for more than a friend. I breathe easier knowing we’re heading in a better direction. For once, it feels good to be in the same room as him, knowing we’re no longer at each other’s throats but enjoying one another’s company.

I twist in front of the mirror, falling in love with the gown I found in one of Quaint’s boutiques. The sunflower satin glistens when I twirl, the fabric hanging around my legs in a slim fashion that trails into a short train. The chest, cut low, takes on the shape of a v, offering the tiniest bit of cleavage. The stylist at the boutique ensured this dress was made for flat-chested women like me, and that’s all it took for me to want to try it on, aside from its beauty. The thin straps that curve up over my shoulders allow for more skin to show, adding to the allure of the gown. And don’t even get me started on the back. The skinny straps trail down over three-quarters of the way and rest just above my butt where the satin collects in fluffy bunches.

It’s sexy. The sexiest thing I’ve worn in a long time. My stomach flutters at the notion of being Luke’s date tonight. To everyone else, it’s a simple charity dinner. To me? It’s a huge step in the right direction in repairing what I screwed up, and I’m looking forward to being on his arm for the evening.

A horn beeps, and I turn away from the mirror to peek out my bedroom window, seeing Luke’s car by the curb. Before we left the baseball game on Saturday, he gave me the details of the event, telling me he’d pick me up and drive me home. My stomach flutters and flips. I catch one last glimpse of myself in the mirror, smoothing down my gown and double-checking my makeup before heading down the steps. I brush a hand over my slicked back hair and cover the small bun at the back of my head with my palm—a perk of growing up with sisters. We always played dress-up and did each other’s hair. It’s how I learned how to French braid, but this bun is sleek and professional, collected at the nape of my neck with a glittery clip.

I double-check all the lights are off once I’m downstairs and head out the door. A car door slams, Luke’s towering figure moving around the front end of his SUV.

There’s no missing that Luke Sacks is handsome. But this evening? He’s devastatingly beautiful. Wearing a sleek navy-blue suit, he fans his jacket to the sides and sinks his hands in his pockets as he approaches the end of the walkway near the street. The pale-yellow tie he wears compliments the color of his suit well.

I make it down the path, my skin tingling from the heat of his confident stare. A glimmer borders the green in his eyes, and I only hope I’m the cause of it. Yes, so much has happened between us, but I would risk just about anything to have him look at me like he used to. To have him hungry for me the same way he was all those years ago. I blame it on years of solitary. Years of not being touched.

Why did I deprive myself for so long?

Guilt. I’ve always felt shameful for leaving the way I did. I could’ve been better in that time of my life. I could’ve leaned on Luke. He was my fiancé. Instead, I ran, and the remorse that curls against my heart makes it nearly impossible to give another man a chance.

But it’s not just that. My heart belongs to Luke. It always has. The question is, how do I find the courage to tell him? Then again, why would he want to give me a second chance?

“You look…”

A blush creeps up my face, making my cheeks rosier than the blush I applied twenty minutes ago. “Nice?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

“Fucking gorgeous." He pulls a hand from his pocket and extends it my way. “You ready to do this?”

Tonight is about letting go of the past and moving toward an easier future. There’s so much history between us. So much heartbreak. We deserve a night to unwind after everything.

I place my hand in his palm, overjoyed when he grips my fingers and pulls me toward the car. “I think the better question is if you’re ready.”

Opening the passenger’s door, he rests a hand on top of it while I get situated. “Am I ready to have you on my arm all fucking night looking like that? Hell fucking yeah.”

“You’ve done well, my friend,” Harry Winslow, one of the board members I met when we arrived, praises as he claps Luke on the back. “Every year has been a great turnout, but this one…” Harry shakes his head proudly without finishing, and I wonder if he’s privy to what happened with Andrew two weeks ago. If he knows that the person who facilitated this event years ago is responsible for assaulting a man on hospital property. If he does know, he doesn’t show it, doesn’t say a word regarding it, his attention too focused on the success of the Pledge of Commitment donations.

During dinner, the board announced the amount raised during the game from the weekend. While all of us were out on the field with the Quentin Wolves, Luke taking a ball straight to the groin, donors piled into the fancy tent in the adjacent field and whipped out their wallets. Men like Harry Winslow schmoozed them, had them opening their checkbooks and writing sizable checks. But none of it would be possible without Luke. He deserves the admiration of the people in charge, and I’m beyond happy that I get to witness it. My heart swells every time someone reaches for a handshake, and it only makes me prouder of him. Makes me miss being the woman supporting him and his dreams.

“Thank you, sir.”

Harry’s smile gleams with delight as he brings his chute of champagne to his mouth. Dressed in an elegant black suit, his pot belly protrudes, and his broad shoulders relax. He arches a brow at us. “We should thank you. Without your connection to the Quentin Wolves, we wouldn’t have brought in just shy of a mil in donations.” He sips and swallows. “Incredible. We’ll have high expectations next year. I hope you know that.”

Luke chuckles, and it ignites a flurry of butterflies in my stomach I hadn’t realized was possible. I haven’t missed the lengthy stares some women have given him since we arrived, the ways their eyes light up when he walks by. I don’t even blame them. Luke has always turned heads.

“Aren’t their high expectations every year?”

Harry tilts his head to the side, then points to the large screen above the small stage at the other end of the event space. “Well, yes, but I’m telling you…the board is going to want to see that seven-digit number on the screen next year. Think we can do it?”

“We can certainly try,” Luke promises.

“That’s what I like to hear.” Harry taps a palm on Luke’s arm. “It was nice catching up. I see Belinda over there, eyeing me. The woman can’t handle when I’ve gone too far for long. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” He points to the stage again. “Looks like the band is about to begin. Make sure you get this pretty lady out on the dance floor while the night is still young.”

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