Page 161 of Light My Fire

“I think I have a few ideas…”

“Spill the tea.”

An hour later, I leave Books and Buns feeling determined and confident.

I want my guys.

CHAPTER 40

Luke

I am forty years old.A twenty-five-year old girl should not be able to get to me.

But three days after Brooke told us she needed a break, I have finally come to the conclusion that it doesn’t matter what my head says… she did anyway. She got to me so much that I’m doing something that Ineverthought I would do.

As I start the third day without Brooke Wilder, I realize that I do actually want it to be true that she can be someone I fall in love with and someone who loves me back.

Do we make sense? Maybe not entirely.

Was Jackson right when he said that I would never have touched Brooke or gotten close to her if it wasn’t for him and Wyatt getting close to her? Maybe. But that seems less true the more I think about it. If I had spent time with her, no matter the circumstance, I would have seen her light and warmth and I would have wanted it. What I feel for her is more than physical attraction and that allowed her to sneak past my defenses even with her age and with Wyatt and Jackson in the picture. And with my past.

But these past few days have shown me that there is no use in lying to myself. I’m miserable without her. I’m miserable not knowing how she is. I’m miserable not knowing if her internship is going well. I’m miserable not being able to text her things I know will make her smile. I’m miserable not being able to ask her out for a simple dinner.

And I definitely miss holding her, kissing her, being covered in her scent, being a part of making her come undone with pleasure.

It feels like my right to do all of those things and it feels completely wrong to be apart from her.

I want her back. But I know that there’s something I have to do before I can tell her that.

I need to fix my shit so I can move on and be happy.

I’m tired of being miserable. I’m tired of being angry. I’m tired of assuming I am going to end up in pain.

And yes, I’m forty years old. Which means I’m fucking old enough to know how to fix this.

That’s why I’m walking across the grass toward a play area in a picturesque old Chicago neighborhood.

Marci is sitting on a bench near the slides where several young children laugh and run and play.

She lifts her hand in a little wave, but as I draw closer, I can see the trepidation in her expression.

That’s understandable. I haven’t seen or spoken to my ex-wife in over a decade.

I take the seat next to her on the wooden bench. “Hi,” I say simply.

“Hi.” She gives me a smile.

“Thanks for meeting me.”

“Honestly, I almost said no, but my curiosity got the better of me.”

It had taken me a little work to get her number. My mother still exchanged Christmas cards with Marci’s mom and she was able to get Marci’s cell number from Janet.

To my mother’s credit, she simply asked if everything was okay when I asked for that favor. I had confessed that I met someone special but that I felt I needed some closure with Marci before I could fully commit. The fact that my mother took that at face value and helped me, tells me that my mom agrees I need that closure.

We sit quietly for a couple of minutes, watching the kids play. I know none of these kids are the baby girl I thought was mine. Her name is Audrey, and she is in dance class in the studio across the street from the park. Marci said this was the best time and place for her to meet me because of that dance class. I don’t blame her for wanting it to be a public, neutral space, and for there to be a timeline on our meeting.

I finally look over at her. The ten years that have passed have been good to her. Her long blond hair is pulled back into a ponytail, she only has light makeup on, and she’s wearing jeans, tennis shoes, and a simple tee with a zippered hoodie over the top. She looks like a very casual mom at the park with her kids.

---