Page 11 of Stuck in Paradise with You

CARRIE

Seeing Luke in the flesh after all the years is the way I imagine a small nut would feel if it were to be cracked by a sledgehammer. My shell feels broken, my insides bared and smashed to pieces.

The last time I saw him, he was rushing into a meeting, faltering in his stride momentarily when he saw me in the corridor. Though we were a secret at work because he was about to be made a partner and I was his junior associate, we shared a knowing smile. An expression that held a heated promise.

Yet, hours later, as I lay dressed in red lingerie that I’d bought for Luke’s birthday, waiting for him on the bed ofourhotel room, he was plotting a return to his pregnant wife.

I need to hold it together.

No matter that the half-moon creases at the sides of his mouth when he smiles seem deeper, sweeter now. That the stubble lining his strong jaw is the same length I used to feel when I held his face in my palms, though flecked with grey that makes him appear knowledgeable, more experienced. That the lines at the edges of his eyes make him seem softer, more welcoming. Or that the body I used to know so well seemsunchanged where his shirt hugs his torso. Broader perhaps but still firm, still desirable.

Despite all of that. Setting aside the way he has instantly turned my insides to mush. Ignoring the voice in my head screaming that I detest him for what he did to me. I need to remember that I’m here in my capacity as a professional. An advisor to his business.

I straighten my now damp and cocktail-stained clothes and clear my throat. ‘Thank you for the dinner invitation,’ I tell him, hating myself for being civilized as much as I hate him for using me and casting me aside when the novelty and excitement of us had worn off.

‘That always was your problem,’ he says, his voice low and ill-tempered, for my ears only, as Joe and Alisha talk amongst themselves.

‘My problem?’ I snipe, unintentionally exposing my emotions.

‘Putting two and two together and jumping to the wrong conclusions. Not sitting back in the problem for long enough to wait for the solution to come along. I didn’t invite you; Hettich did.’

‘Ah, a metaphor. What are you, a lyricist now? Ever the chameleon.’

‘Take it as you will.’

A waitress appears, wearing a crisp white shirt withCharithoniaembroidered onto the pocket in gold thread, holding a tray of nibbles. Luke takes an olive on a stick, sucking it into his mouth with apopand a smirk.

I do the same.

He wants to play nasty? I’ll play.

‘Well, I’m lucky I had an excellent mentor as a junior associate, Luke. You taught me an awful lot about the kind of advisor I need to be, and the kind of person I absolutely don’t.’

With that burn, I turn my back on him and step toward Hettich, but as I do, I’m almost bowled off my feet by a running child, surging toward Luke with outstretched airplane arms and dressed as Buzz Lightyear.

‘To infinity and beyond!’

The boy, maybe seven or eight, crashes into Luke, who sweeps him up into the air like he weighs the same as a feather and raises him above his head, spinning on the spot so that Buzz is flying. Then he drops him seamlessly onto his hip, as if he’s held this boy countless times before.

‘How you doing, buddy?’ Luke asks. Any trace of hostility is gone, replaced by something much warmer, fatherly.

‘Is dinner ready yet?’ the boy asks Luke. And to me, he says, ‘Hi, I’m Noah. I’m seven. Who are you?’

He’s adorable, if a tad brusque. ‘I’m Carrie. Nice to meet you, Noah.’

‘Is dinner ready?’

Luke chuckles in a way that catches me off-guard. The sound of it, the sight of it, makes something low in my abdomen vibrate like jelly on a moving train. I always liked his laugh. Before I discovered he’s a total lying dickhead.

‘Dinner isn’t ready yet but let’s find you a snack, huh?’ Luke says, keeping hold of the boy. ‘Just don’t tell your mom or I’ll be in trouble.’

Noah holds a finger to Luke’s lips and says, ‘Our secret.’

Only as they walk away in search of the snacks that have been set out on two tall bar tables nearby do I calculate. Noah is seven.Seven.

He doesn’t look especially like Luke but he doesn’tnotlook like him either. They clearly have a strong bond.

Noah is the baby.Thebaby.

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