Page 8 of Broken Promises

“Well, I did just have a shower, so you’re just in time if you want to make it here when I smell good,” I teased him, cringing inwardly. God, why was I so nervous? We hadn’t had sex yet, but we were getting close. I knew he was ready, but I wasn’t. He wouldn’t try to talk me into something I wasn’t prepared for, but this was foreign and nerve-wracking, regardless. “Come here,” I added, taking his hand and tugging him into my bed. His broad arms wrapped around me, holding me in a tight hug as sleep slowly lulled me in. All I knew was I wanted to stay here forever.

“Luce, are you up?” My mom’s voice suddenly rang out, snapping me out of the blissful slumber I had been in for the past…well, however many hours. I quickly sat up, feeling my heart sink into my chest.

“Shit!” I put a hand over Luke’s mouth. He had woken up when Mom had called out. He licked my palm with a mischievous look on his face while I was a bundle of panic and anxiety, terrified that my mom would catch us. If she did catch us I didn’t want to know what her punishment would be.

“Are you up?”

“Yes…yes.” I wasn’t. I forgot to set my alarm. I quickly hopped out of bed, grabbing whatever clothes were within my reach.

“Okay, well, Luke will be here in fifteen minutes to pick you up, so don’t keep him waiting.”

Luke now also sat up in bed, looking at me with a smirk. “Should I tell her I’m already here?” he asked, and I swatted at his stomach in another wave of panic.

“You need to go!” I told him. Luke laughed as he climbed out of the window, and I was just thankful I avoided getting caught…but that didn’t help with the rush I was trapped in for the morning.

I was going to be late.

My bedroom was exactly as I had left it. The boy band posters still clung to the pale purple walls. My bed was covered in floral bedding I recall from my teenage years, and all my knickknacks were left in their place. It was like Iwas stepping back in time.

And all I could think about was him.

God, he looked good. Ten years had done wonders for him. His hair

was still brown as I remembered, but now it was styled perfectly, and his beard,

which he didn’t have in high school, was just the right amount of scruffy. He wore a black t-shirt showcasing his toned arms, and his jeans fit him perfectly. I was also fairly certain I had caught a glimpse of a small tattoo that added to his rugged charm, but I couldn’t quite make out what it was.

I stared at the flower bouquet in my hands. He remembered my favorites and asked me if I was seeing someone. Was he trying to pursue me? Surely not. I mean, after ten years we spent apart after a messy breakup, to think something like that was ridiculous. I never asked my mom about him because I didn’t want to discuss what had happened, but he had likely built a life for himself here. I stalked him online occasionally, but he wasn’t exactly the kind of a man to put his life out on the internet to see.

With a soft sigh, I plopped on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Sometime during the party, someone remembered to bring my suitcases to my room, which I was thankful for. Despite all the effort my mom had put into this, I didn’t have the strength to go out there again.

Especially not when there was a chance I could see him again and have to engage in another conversation.

I’m not ready for that tonight,I thought, closing my eyes.

lucy

. . .

When I wokeup the next morning, I realized I had slept through the rest of the evening and the entire night. My body didn’t feelthattired, but it seemed like I needed the rest.

When I finally forced myself to get out of bed and start my day, I put on a white sundress since Port-Cartier didn’t get as much rain as Seattle. It was one of the things I missed about it—what now seemed like eternal sunshine. As I headed downstairs, I was met with the smell of coffee and pancakes. It was my favorite breakfast growing up, so of course, my mom had made it for me. It was one of her many ways to welcome me back into Port-Cartier.

“Hey, Mom,” I called out as I rounded the corner to the kitchen. I stopped in my tracks,

surprised to see Ed sitting at the kitchen table. He gave me a big smile and a small wave, visibly enjoying his pancakes. “Oh, hi, Ed,” I added.

“Hey, Lucy. Good to see you got proper rest.”

“Sweetie,” Mom said, peeking from the kitchen. She had her apron on, and her hair pulled in a messy bun on top of her head. “I made pancakes—chocolate chip ones—your favorite. Ialso brewed some coffee. Ed and I already had breakfast so help yourself.”

My mom was an early riser, so it was no surprise that she had already eaten. My stomach grumbled in response. “Sorry, I slept through dinner last night. I guess I was more tired than I realized.”

“No worries, pumpkin. I checked on you and saw that you were passed out, so I thought it would be best to let you sleep. After all, you did have a long flight.”

I sat at the table with my plate piled up with pancakes, still debating on bringing up what wastrulyon my mind.

“Do you two have breakfast together every morning?” I asked, trying to understand

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