Page 139 of Unexpected

“He was between places and needed a place to live, so I let him stay with me. It’s worked out pretty well so far.”

My legs were crossed on the wooden chair, and Luke’s hand on the inside of my thigh was slightly distracting. With one hand, I continued to pick at my mashed potatoes while the nails of my other hand trailed up and down his forearm. His eyes cut over to me as a small smirk lifted one corner of his mouth.

I hadn’t seen that lopsided smile in a while, and it was the sexiest damn thing I’d ever seen. It promised lots of dirty things when we were alone later.

“How old are you?”

“I’m thirty-one.”

“And when was your last long-term relationship?”

Luke’s hand tensed on my thigh, and I circled my hand around his wrist. “Mom,” I said again, but Luke squeezed my leg harder.

“I was married for about a year, and we divorced three years ago,” he said matter-of-factly, not giving away a single sign that he was uncomfortable with the topic. But I could tell by the way his arm tensed against me that he didn’t want to discuss it.

“And what was the reason for the divorce?”

“Irreconcilable differences.”

Mom eyed him, and I watched her contemplate questioning him further as the expression on her face morphed.

“I’m sure that’s what the paperwork said, but was that really the reason?”

“Yes, it was. We were young when we got married and as we grew, we realized we wanted different things out of life.”

Mom was still hesitant, but thankfully, she let the topic drop, and Luke obviously relaxed next to me.

Delilah looked across the table at me over the rim of her wineglass with her eyebrows raised. I widened my eyes at her and then quickly flicked them in Mom’s direction, trying to silently convey that she should help or step in next time. She rolled her eyes.

“I would like to discuss Michael, though,” Mom announced.

“Okay, seriously?” My fork clattered to my mostly empty plate, and I contemplated just leaving the table. “Are you trying to make thisthemost awkward Thanksgiving dinner ever? Why do we need to talk about him?”

“I just want to know what happened at that damn coffee shop or whatever it was. Michael’s version of the story doesn’t add up, and you only told me there was an altercation. But Michael’s nose is broken, so I’d like to know.”

I looked over at my sister again for help, but she was also looking at me like she wanted to hear the entire story. Even though he wasn’t there, he was still torturing me from thirteen hours away.

With a long sigh, I pushed my plate away and put my head in my hands. I immediately felt Luke’s hand on my lower back, and the feeling of him grounded me. I was out of that house. I had made it out, and I wasn’t going back, and I would never be hurt like that again.

His hand cautiously trailed up my spine until it settled on the back of my neck.

No one said anything else and when I looked up, my mom and sister were watching me expectantly while Luke continued to eat with his other hand. There was something about the way he acknowledged how uncomfortable I was with his hand on my neck while he continued eating that made it seem less climactic. I needed that.

“I’m not going to rehash our entire conversation at the coffee shop, so if that’s what you’re looking for, you’re not going to get it.” I looked up from my hands to find them both still staring. I took that as confirmation to continue. “Michael and I met at a coffee shop around the corner. He felt no remorse for what he did and was the utter definition of a piece of shit. Luke stayed in the background because I didn’t feel comfortable being alone with Michael, even in a public place. Michael didn’t see Luke until we were about to leave. He attacked him out of nowhere and Luke subdued him by punching him in the face, and it worked. That’s it, that’s what happened.”

Mom nodded thoughtfully, and Delilah seemed amused.

“Good for you, Luke. He deserved a million times worse,” Delilah mused, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Well, it wasn’t the last punch he took,” Mom added and continued eating like she hadn’t said anything at all. Delilah and I looked at each other and then looked back at her.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Delilah finally asked.

“Your father kind of went off on him, ended up punching him in the face as well. Didn’t do as much damage as Luke did, but your dad hit him.”

Both Delilah and I wore twin expressions of shock. My dad was the last person on earth I would imagine could hit someone. He was laid back and eternally calm, which was rather unsettling as a child when we got in trouble.

Luke chuckled beside me, running his thumb up and down the side of my neck. “I like your dad already.”

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