Page 69 of I Still Love You

“What you need is a buffer,” Claire tells me. “You know, someone to lighten the awkwardness. He owes me a rematch of Phase 10. Invite him to Mom’s tomorrow night, and we’ll go from there.”

My stomach lurches forward like I’m on a coaster. Is it too much to invite him over after what happened? Is he going to think I’m trying to jump back in the saddle? This might not be a good idea, but he did promise Claire a rematch.

“Maybe you’re right, but what if he says no?” While I was always confident with Luke in the past, those days are gone. I want to make sure I’m doing this right. That it helps us move in a direction with a promising future.

“I’ll make taco dip, your favorite. And trust me, he’s not going to say no. No man would after getting the kind of action you gave him, and in public, no less.”

“Claire, what did I get myself into?” I sulk against the driver’s seat, the cool air merging with the nervous sweat at the back of my neck and causing a chill.

“You didn’t get yourself into anything, Layla. Now, Luke, on the other hand…he apparently got all up in your panty hamster.”

I wrinkle my brows. “Panty hamster?”

“Yeah,” Claire says, and I can hear the smirk in her voice. “He got all up in that vajayjay, that cock sock, that tunnel of loooove.”

“Oh, God, please stop.”

“Just stating facts. Want to know which one is my favorite?”

Nervousness ambushes me as I approach the sports therapy building. It sprinkles down my arms, misting my skin with a tingling sensation. I’m not normally like this—uncertain. I take pride in how I’ve watered my confidence over the years, how I’ve weeded out the insecurities that tried to consume me in high school.

Knowing I’ll be approaching Luke has me in a tizzy, making it seem a solid five degrees warmer than the forecast. My scrubs stick to my skin wherever there’s a lick of sweat. It doesn’t help that my last patient of the day was a difficult eighty-seven-year-old man that Sierra had to assist me with.

My biggest concern is how Luke is going to react.

We’re adults, but it’s like I’m a teenager fresh out of high school who had sex for the first time. I would ask myself why I’m acting—feeling—this way, but I already know. Luke always had the upper hand when it came to my love for him. He knew how to make me want more, how to blanket me with safety, how to make me want to return to him time and time again.

Now is no different.

I’m scared he’s going to reiterate how he needs to work on himself, that he doesn’t have time for me. I groan once I’m closer, hoping the couple leaving the building doesn’t hear me. Sighing through my hesitancy, I scoot in through the gap in the door from the exiting couple and approach the check-in counter. Rebecca smiles at me, and another girl behind the counter, who’s fighting a stapler, glances over her shoulder.

“Hi,” I smile, lowering my voice so the person in the waiting room doesn’t hear me summoning their sports therapist. “Is Luke available, by chance?”

Stupid question. He’s probably a busy, busy man within these walls. He’s going to be livid that I’m showing up when he’s catering to patients. But it’s after four in the afternoon. Doesn’t he get off soon? How late does he work? I find it irritating that I don’t know the answer to these questions. That I don’t know him as well as I used to.

Rebecca leans on her elbows, casting me with an amused look. “Layla, right?”

“That’s me,” I confirm with a tiny laugh, grateful she remembers me from before. “If he’s occupied, I can come back later or, uh, actually, I’ll leave a note for him that you could give him?”

She smirks at my idiocy—because, yes, this is how unnerved I am. “Hang tight a moment. I’ll see if he can spare a minute before his next appointment.”

“Oh, perfect! Thank you,” I express, tapping my fingers on the raised counter to calm my jittery nerves while simultaneously berating myself. Stapler lady punches the ground with victory when she fixes it, a blush covering my cheeks when she looks over and finds me staring. God, why am I so nervous? This is only Luke. We used to be very familiar with one another. We were engaged, for crying out loud! I can handle an easy conversation. I can extend an invitation without inducing a panic attack.

Rebecca disappears down a hall. The click of a door sounds, and the room turns silent. Then her click-clacking heels grow louder until she pops her head beyond the wall of the waiting area. “You can come on back.”

I dart around the check-in counter and follow her in the same direction as last time. “Thank you so much for this.”

Her smile appears when she says, “You should thank him. He’s the boss.”

“Right.”

She reaches for his door, one that I know leads to his office. “He’ll be right in.” I thank her once more as she pulls the door shut quietly. His office is the same as it was last time. His light-washed wooden desk is clean and tidy. I imagine he keeps everything inside of it, just like he used to do when we were together. Everything has a place, he would say. Besides, I can’t think if there’s clutter everywhere. It’s distracting as fuck. Then, if I was close enough, he’d curl his hand around my fingers and pull me closer. Just like you are.

I smile to myself at the memory and round the corner of his desk. I reach for the built-in drawer and pull the handle. My smile widens as I take in the neat row of pens. Notepads with words scribbled over them. The collected container of paper clips. The stapler and highli—

I nearly jump out of my shoes when the door swings open. Luke gives me a double take, his eyes moving down to my lingering hand as I softly push the drawer closed. He folds his arms across his chest and nudges the door shut with his foot.

The smattering of stubble over his cheeks looks delectable. Like it’d feel good for my sensitive skin to brush against it. The teensiest bit of gel styles his hair. The color combination he’s dawning—dark blue slacks and a bubblegum pink polo—only makes it worse. The pink makes the green of his eyes pop, officially making him sexier than the last time I saw him in his office.

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