Page 22 of My Pucking Valentine

I guess I said those words out loud, and she answers me, so at least there’s that, but fuck.

I take a step backward, my body ready to fight. I’m going to go down to that fucking school. But Barbara calls out my name, and my head lifts and my eyes meet hers. She shakes her head a couple times.

“Just come in. She’ll be home soon. I can’t imagine it is going to last much longer. There can’t be that much to talk about.”

My gut tells me to go and look for her, but Barbara is convinced she’ll be back soon. Instead of sitting on the sofa, I pace. I can’t sit still. I need Clara to be here. I need to know that she’s okay.

I’m not sure how long I pace the apartment, but I can’t stay there a moment longer. I glance over to Barbara and open my mouth to tell her goodbye when the front door opens. It’s Clara standing in the doorway.

I move toward her, but before I reach her, she holds up her hand. Her palm faces me, and I watch as wetness fills her eyes. Her bottom lip trembles

“Clara,” I rasp.

“It’s over, Luke.”

I shake my head once, knowing that this is a knee-jerk reaction. “I told you I can fix this, baby,” I murmur.

I watch as her eyes slowly close, then open again, and I read a resolve that wasn’t there just a few moments ago. She opens her mouth, then closes it again, inhaling a deep breath before she lets it out slowly.

Her eyes find mine. They focus, and then she lifts her chin in the air. She looks down her nose at me, her gaze never wavering, and I know she’s serious.

“Clara,” I murmur.

“Luke,” she responds. “This cannot work. Nothing about it can. You should go with your publicist’s suggestion. Get a new girl, be seen with her. Forget I ever existed.”

I move toward her but stop when I feel her palm press against my chest to keep me from getting closer. I wrap my fingers around her wrist. I could pull her closer to me, touch my lips to hers and make her forget whatever bullshit she’s got going on inside her head.

“I’m serious, Luke,” she says, her voice seemingly strong.

“Baby,” I rasp.

I’ve never felt this vulnerable before. I just told her that I love her. I’m ready to take our relationship to the next level, and now she’s telling me that she’s done with me. What the actual fuck?

“This is over,” she states, her voice clear and her tone serious.

Biting the inside of my cheek, I watch her for a moment, my gaze searching hers. I don’t believe her. She’s running scared. Instead of calling her out on her bullshit, I decide I need to prove to her that everything is going to be okay.

So, I take a step to the side, releasing her wrist when I do. I walk toward the door and reach for the handle, looking back over my shoulder before I open it and leave. Clara has spun around and is watching me, her green eyes big and sad.

“This isn’t over,” I state.

“Yes, it is,” she whispers, but even I can tell she doesn’t mean those words. She doesn’t believe them, either.

TWENTY

CLARA

The moment Lukewalks out of the door, my entire world shatters. It doesn’t matter that I pushed him out of the door. I still didn’t want him to leave. It’s for the best, though. Clearly, he knows that this is for the best as well because he didn’t try too hard to stay.

“Clara,” Barbara calls out.

Reluctantly, I turn away from the door and look over to see her sitting in the living room. She’s facing me, her eyes wide, and I hate that she saw all of that. How freaking embarrassing. I wait for her to ask me about it, but she doesn’t.

“What happened at work?” she asks.

Wincing, I move toward the sofa and flop down on the cushions. I feel them bounce as I do. Reaching for one of the pillows, I place it in my lap and hug it as I rest my chin against it and look across the room to her.

“I got fired,” I whisper. “Kind of.”

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