I thought of my phone that had only rung once more in the past couple of days, and even that call had been from a doctor I didn't know. Melancholy swept through me at that depressing thought.
Luke nodded toward my glass. "We're calling the drink a Little Wilder."
I smiled at him, pushing aside my sadness. This was an amazing day for him, and I couldn't be happier to be part of it. "Perfect. Absolutely perfect."
I took another swig and then passed the glass for him to share, but he downed it in one swallow and held out his hand for me. When I took it, he dragged me onto the dance floor just as the music slowed and began a deep, slow lullaby.
Being in Luke's arms, I let myself melt into him. When Wayne had stopped by the restaurant earlier, I'd been filled with such a sense of dread that I had to force my attention on my plate so Luke wouldn't see how wrecked I was. He didn't say a thing.
He spun me once, twice, then pulled me close, whispering against my hair. "It's been one hell of a week, duchess. I'll be sorry to see you go."
"Then don't."
I wasn't sure what made me say it, but Luke stilled and pulled back, his hand cupped under my chin.
"Ask me to stay," I whispered.
I'd never meant anything more in my life, but Luke looked at me like I'd just called him a filthy word.
"I thought you didn't need a man telling you what to do."
Confused, I stared at him, not sure what he was talking about. It took a moment for the memory to resurface, and when it did, it stung me as keenly as if he'd slapped me across the face.
"What? You're too proud to ask me?" I asked.
"I shouldn't have to. Come on, duchess, be reasonable."
"Be reasonable?" I blinked, suddenly aware that the burn in the back of my throat wasn't whiskey anymore, but the first sign of a wave of tears.
"I'm not asking you to stay. You should stay only if you want to."
He said it so matter-of-factly that I blinked again, waiting for the rest of his explanation, but it didn't come. Instead, he just stared at me.
Stunned, I nodded slowly. "Roger that."
I stepped away from him and slipped away through the crowd, glancing briefly toward Duke and Molly to make sure they were too preoccupied to notice when I slipped out the door and into the evening air.
So Luke didn't want me to stay? Fine. That was perfect. Or maybe he was just too stubborn to ask me. Either way, it didn't matter. I wasn't going to uproot my whole life for a man who couldn't mutter a few simple words. I deserved more than that.
Lightning cracked, followed by a slow rumble of thunder, and I lifted my face to the rain in hopes that it would hide my tears.
I'd stupidly put myself on the line and been shot down. Swallowing a sob, I glanced back at the bar before I broke into a jog, thankful I'd worn my flats.
Come tomorrow afternoon, I'd be long, long gone.
And apparently? That was the way Luke wanted it.
Chapter Seventeen
Luke
When I got home a little while later, the house was dark and empty, filled with nothing but the sound of rain tapping against the windowsill and the occasional rumble of thunder tearing through the hot Texas night.
To be honest, I wasn't sure what I'd expected. Maybe that Charlotte had waited for me the entire hour since she'd left, a reading light perched over her head in my living room as she pretended to read but stared at the front door.
I laughed at myself for even thinking such a stupid thought. Of course, she hadn't done that. A girl like Charlotte wasn't the type to sit around and wait for a guy, even if I'd asked her to.
She was like Sarah-she'd take action, do what she needed to in order to survive.
And this time? Apparently, that meant packing up her shit and getting the hell out of my house before I could even walk through the door to try to stop her. Which, of course, I also couldn't blame her for.
Fuck, I would have gotten the hell out of Dodge if I were her too. But, damn it, why did I always have to be the one to beg? Why couldn't she stay just because she wanted to?
With a deep breath, I made for the small makeshift bar in the corner of the living room. There I grabbed the newest bottle of whiskey and poured myself a glass.
It had been raining the night Sarah left too, though that had been a flash of summer rain. Tonight was different. It was wild and torrential, fat droplets spattering the dusty ground and turning it into a mud slick.
Had it rained the morning our mother had left?
It felt like it was possible.
I swigged my whiskey, then thought again of the look on Charlotte's face when she'd tasted the drink I'd concocted. It was like she'd lit up, so bright and animated. When was the last time I'd seen a face like that-of someone who believed in me so much? Someone who wasn't Duke or Molly?