Page 87 of Unexpected

I’d been so busy—both intentionally keeping myself busy and unintentionally—that I hadn’t had much time to stop and really take in what was changing. With the movers slowly wheeling out my life, it all hit me.

I wasn’t getting married; I wasn’t in love; I wasn’t living in my house anymore. My life had completely changed.

But I was mostly happy. I felt independent and free in a way I’d never known while I was under Michael’s thumb. I was happy, but I was also terrified that I’d fuck it all up; I was independent, but I was alone. If I fucked it up, I didn’t have a partner to fall back on.

However, I knew if I could survive Michael, I could survive reinventing my life or anything else the world decided to throw at me.

I had to admit that also having Luke around was a distraction I appreciated. Well, except for the day before.

I overheard part of a phone conversation that made me pause. I hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but I passed the door to my office that was slightly ajar when I was heading back to my bedroom for the other roll of packing tape. I wasn’t planning on stopping, but when I heard the intensity of his hushed whisper and caught a glimpse of his tense posture in the crack of the door, my curiosity won out.

He was standing at the opposite side of the office, facing the window, and although the room wasn’t large, it was still difficult to make out the entirety of the conversation. However, I did hear the words “she called” and a few “fucks” before he said my name, and with my heart pounding, I took that as my cue to move.

I hauled ass back into the kitchen and tried to continue what I was doing. Luckily, it was several more minutes before Luke appeared at the end of the hallway with an amused smile on his face.

The few minutes before he’d appeared had given me enough time to rationalize the conversation. My initial reaction was that he was talking about another woman that he was sleeping with or something even worse. But I talked myself down from the catastrophizing ledge—there were other women in Luke’s life, including Josh’s ex-girlfriend, Samantha, and his other close friends.

When Luke told me he had to go because of something with Josh and Zach, the idea that it was Samantha that had called made even more sense. But I could feel the change in his mood and noticed the tight set of his features. He also had a difficult time meeting my eyes and was abrupt when he left. He wasn’t telling me the whole truth.

I hadn’t slept at all, evidenced by the dark circles I had a hell of a time covering up that morning. Women never appreciated being lied to, and although I felt like I’d gotten closer to Luke in the few weeks we’d actually spent together, I still didn’tknowhim. He was a closed fucking book for the most part, and with the way he left things, I was glad I had trusted my gut and kept his dick out of my vagina.

Pulling myself from my thoughts, I checked my phone again to see if I had any messages from Luke; he still said when he left the day before that he’d be here. It was still early—only a little past ten—but I was becoming more and more paranoid that he wasn’t going to show up at all.

What better time to ghost me than when I was about to move?

I tried to not let myself think that I’d done something wrong because I knew I hadn’t. But my mind had been trained by Michael to believe that everything that happened, including his bad moods, was my fault.

I hadn’t done anything. I repeated it over and over again until I thought I might believe it.

I rolled my eyes at my stupidity. I was severely overthinking the situation, and I was irritated that I’d let myself become so emotionally invested in another person already.

Seriously, what the hell was wrong with me?

To take my mind off pretty much everything else, I pulled my laptop from its case on the counter next to me and opened my file. I was halfway through the first draft of my book, and I was mostly impressed with it so far. There were days when I wanted to delete the entire thing because it was garbage, but then there were other days when I smiled to myself and knew it could work.

I threw myself into it, easily picking up right where I left off and was only pulled out of my intense writing state when I heard the scuff of a pair of boots right in front of me.

When I peered up from my screen, I was greeted by one of the young movers. He was grinning from ear to ear, showing off his perfectly white teeth. Since the high was in the midforties, he was wearing thick pants and a sweatshirt, but I could still tell he was probably pretty built underneath his many layers.

He yanked off the beanie and scrubbed his hand through his disheveled, dirty-blond hair. “I’m so sorry to disturb you, ma’am, but I forgot my water this morning. Do you have any water bottles or maybe a glass I can use?”

My cheeks flushed because he’d approached me right in the middle of the main character's first actual sex scene and I’d hoped he hadn’t noticed or taken it as me blushing at him.

I set my laptop aside and pushed off the counter. “Umm… I think I have water bottles in the laundry room. Let me see.”

I returned with a few in my hands. “They aren’t cold, if that’s okay?” I held one out and he took it, letting his fingers linger over mine for a moment.

“Yes, ma’am, that’s great. Thank you.”

I cringed at him calling me “ma’am,” but we were in the south and that’s just how everyone spoke. With his characteristically Southern drawl, it was especially obvious he grew up in the South, and I wouldn’t expect he’d call me anything less than “ma’am” whether I liked it or not.“I’ll put the rest in the fridge in case y’all need anymore.”

He downed the water bottle in a few slow gulps and tossed the empty container in the trash. He smiled again and even winked at me before he put his beanie back on and returned to work.

It took a little over an hour for the men to pack up the truck. I swept through the house one last time and confirmed they’d retrieved everything before they started closing the truck and grabbing their moving supplies from inside the house.

Hunter, the young mover from earlier, continued glancing in my direction each time he passed me, moving furniture from the bedrooms and my office. The older man, Bobby, was not amused with his lack of concentration and reprimanded him several times.

I couldn’t lie, I had enjoyed the attention, and Hunter seemed innocent enough. He was telling me a joke about a woman they helped move who had a sex dungeon as he carried the final box that went in my car for me.

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