Sweet Nothing(67)

Gwen doesn’t answer right away. Instead she seems to study me, her chocolate eyes traveling my face; her lips pursed slightly.

“What?” I study my mug. “I know. It sounds stupid.”

“It doesn’t.” Her voice is strong. “It sounds really nice, El. I’m glad…” Her voice trails off, and she squeezes my arm. “I’m glad. Luke’s a good dude.”

My cell buzzes on the table, and I glance at it before returning to my coffee.

“Oh, please.” Waverly twists her blonde ends into a messy bun, then releases it. She lowers her voice to a sexy rasp. “You know you want to get it.”

“Go on, El. We don’t care,” Gwen assures me.

“Sorry, guys.” I grab the phone and head into the hall as I answer. “Hey, you.”

“Hey, yourself. How’d you sleep last night?”

My body relaxes instantly at the sound of Luke’s voice. “Great, actually. Would have been better if you were there.” I pump the handle on the patio door and step outside, into a veil of muggy late September heat. The pavement sears my bare feet. “How’s Lilah?”

“A handful. Hyped up on sugar. Awesome.”

“You’ve got a great kid, Luke.”

“I know it. You know what else I have? About three dozen leftover sugar cookies. I was hoping you’d have dinner with me tonight, after I drop Lilah off at Ashley’s. We could polish them off for dessert.”

I laugh. “In one sitting?”

“It’s the only way to do it. You know what they say: Go hard or go home. How’s seven?”

“I’ll be there. Don’t start without me.”



The door is unlocked when I arrive, and I let myself in. Luke is standing next to the sink, prying burned cookies from a baking sheet with a metal spatula. Acoustic guitar music seems to float down from the ceiling. I recognize the tune immediately. Ray LaMontagne.

“Where’s the apron?” I tease, joining him in the kitchen. I stand behind him and loop my arms around his waist, feeling my body respond instantly to the contact. I’m not sure we’ll make it all the way to dessert.

“Hey. Be nice. Real men wear aprons, right?” He turns around and pulls me in for a kiss. His lips are warm and salty, and I’m suddenly overcome with intense wanting. I have to have him. I want his hands all over me, his mouth on every inch of me.

“Real men definitely wear aprons,” I nod, resting my chin on his chest. “And real men take care of their daughters and bake too many sugar cookies and go snorkeling and make amazing surprise collages for no reason at all.”

He smiles, but his eyes are serious. “Oh, I had my reason.”

“What’s that?” I trace the imperfections in his gray t-shirt. It’s wrinkled and warm and smells like the beach.

“You. You were my reason. I was… am… falling for you. In love with you. And so I gave you these little pieces of me. That’s all those things are, you know?”

The lump in my throat rises fast. I should tell him. I should tell him everything, because he’s given enough of himself and he deserves the same from me. I close my eyes and the words wash over me. I am his reason. I am enough. If I tell him, he might understand. He could love me anyway. “I… I love you too, Luke.” It’s easier than I ever thought it could be. It’s my truth.

He bends down to kiss me, weakening every fiber of my being. If I reveal who I am, I could lose this. I could lose him. Us. Not having Luke by my side could break me.

“You’re so damn beautiful, Elle,” he tells me. I let him. “And I know you don’t always believe that. But I can show you. Let me show you how beautiful you are.”

Suddenly, I can’t breathe. My chest is tight; my body closing in on itself. “Just… give me a second, okay?”

I give him a parting squeeze and duck into the bathroom. Turn on the faucet and cup my hands beneath the cold stream. The water is like ice on my face, my neck. Slipping past my collarbone. My heart is racing, pounding, chanting the truth. I love him. I love him. I love him. And I have to tell him the truth. I know that. I just don’t know how.





chapter twenty-six



Elle,



I have to get out of here. Being in this house with her is killing me. So I’m leaving. I’m spending the next couple nights at Kylie’s place. Her parents are in Bali or Bora Bora or some shit, so she’s having a few of us over. You know the one: the penthouse on 5th? With the movie theater and bowling alley?



When her parents get back, maybe I’ll catch a flight to Miami. And don’t say no. You’re my only option, Elle. My only sister. Please don’t say no.