Page 34 of Broken Promises

A smile threatened to cross my face, but I held it back. Luke always had a way of sweet-talking his way into my heart. “You’re a little biased.”

“I just have eyes…”

“Welcome to Al Dente,” the tall waitress chirped as she approached our table, handing us each the menu. The words were mainly directed at me, though, as I suspected that Luke had come here before. “I’m Nora, and I’ll be your waitress for the night.”

“It’s good to see you, Nora. I see the business is going well tonight,” Luke retorted, and he was right. The place was packed with people tonight, to the point where I wondered how he managed to get us a table here in the first place on such short notice.

“It’s a busy night,” Nora confirmed. “But never too busy for you. Wehadto squeeze you in with a table for two.” I lifted my brow slightly, unsure if she was just overly enthusiastic over the fact Luke was here as a regular or if she was hitting on him. Either way, Luke’s attention turned toward me.

“You should try their carbonara.”

I opened the menu. Al Dente had a wide selection of different kinds of Italian pasta, but he still remembered my favorite. “It’s really good. It’s my favorite meal here.”

“Then a carbonara it is.” I shut the menu, not bothering to look at anything else.

“For me, as well,” Luke told Nora, who then took the menus. After we ordered our drinks—a glass of wine for me and some water for him—she was gone. “I don’t drink when I drive,” he explained when I met his beverage choice with a question in my eyes.

“Fair enough. By the way, I didn’t know you were also a fan of carbonara.” When we were together, he’d tease me about howoften my mom made that meal for me. Like many other things, I had left that love behind long after leaving Port-Cartier.

“I wasn’t. This restaurant opened when I first got back to Port-Cartier. And when I first came here…it was the meal listed at the top. It made me think of you, so I decided to try it out. And I’ve been a fan ever since.” My heart clutched at his words, but it didn’t seem he was done yet. “Luce”—he reached for my hand, his gaze soft—“I know this can’t be easy for you. I messed up in the past. I broke your heart. And you have no reason to believe me. I know that, too. But I have spent the past decade thinking about you. Nothing I ever tried to share with anyone else could compare to what we had. I realized I had made a mistake a long time ago by letting you go…and I wasn’t brave enough to fix it. I am now. I want you back. I want to spend the rest of my days with you. It’s a big ask—I know, but we have to start from somewhere. And I suggest we start from right here. Right now.”

“Luke…” I practically choked out the word. There were dozens of people around us, yet each word he said carried so much weight that the rest of the world didn’t even exist. It was just the two of us.

“I know life is complicated now, and that’s entirely my fault. I let it get complicated. You have the life you’ve built in Seattle, and mine is here…but if you give me a chance, I know we can make it work. I’ll make sure not a day goes by without me counting the biggest blessing I have in my life—you. It’salwaysbeen you. And I know I have no right to ask for another chance…but I’m begging for one, anyway.” When I didn’t respond, he quickly continued, “I know you feel it, too. But if by some chance you don’t…tell me, and we never have to speak about this again.”

I only then realized that our hands had been interlocked this entire time. He was right. So many things remained unsolved, and so many obstacles would be in front of us if we decided to do this…but I felt it as much as he did.

“I don’t know how this would work,” I admitted. Nora gave us a much-needed break as she brought our drinks over, placing my glass of wine in front of me. I took a big sip of the much-needed liquid courage. “As you said, we have built our lives in two entirely different places…”

Luke nodded. I knew this would be hard, yet I couldn’t deny that being without him would be even harder. In fact, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to do it in the first place. How could things ever be the same again after this?

“How about this. You’re going to stay here for the summer. So, maybe we can give this a proper shot while you’re here. And, if by the end of it, you’re sure you want to do this, we’ll find a way to make it happen.” With the hopeful look that twinkled in his eyes, it was difficult to even think about saying no to his request.

“I can’t promise anything…” I told him sincerely. Sure, all of this sounded nice now, but it would be time for action instead of words at the end of the summer. And moving life from one location to another wasn’t as simple as he made it sound. I’d know. I left my life once, and it was one of the hardest things I had ever done.

When Nora brought our pasta to us, I had forgotten all about food. My focus shifted to one thing and one thing only: the question that left his lips, which would be the turning point of my life all over again.

“Are you willing to give this a shot? ’Cause I’m all in, Luce. It’s you and me against the world.”

My heart already knew the answer. All that was left to do was to say it out loud.

“Yes,” I said softly, “I’m willing to give it a shot.”

luke

. . .

“I have some news,but I donotwant you to freak out, and I donotwant you to make a big deal out of it,” I told my mom as I visited my childhood home during the obligatory family Sunday lunches. Landon and I had moved out, and Logan was in the process of doing so, but Mom insisted that we all meet every Sunday to have lunch together. Especially during summertime when it was BBQ season—my family’s favorite.

I stared out the window at the massive oak tree that provided much-needed shade. Beneath it, my father and two brothers were already setting up the BBQ. My mom kept her eyes on the potatoes. She and I were on potato duty today, while the rest of the family was already out and setting up the BBQ.

“What is it?” she asked. “If you’re about to ask me to make bread for you again?—”

A small laugh left my lips. That was a fair assumption—she made the best bread, and though she’d pretend to be annoyed whenever I’d ask her to make me a loaf, I knew deep down that she enjoyed the compliment. “It’s not that, mom. It’s about Lucy.”

Instantly, she put down the peeler, turning toward me. Her expression radiated impatience, though she tried not to push.

“I’m listening,” she said softly, with her hand on her hip.

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