She didn’t want to miss lunch today. She didn’t want to miss it at all. Especially because he would be expecting her and when she didn’t turn up… Well, the thought hurt in a way she wasn’t expecting.
Why should you care?
That was the thing. After she’d seen the bleakness in his eyes that day at lunch, when they talked about dreams, and he’d told her he got through his day minute by minute.
I wish things were different every single day.
Even now thinking about it made her want to cry. And God knew she was already prone to waterworks because of the damn pregnancy. There was something wrong in his life, something he wasn’t telling her.
Which was a worry. It reminded her too much of Alistair’s big secret, and she knew she should ask him about it but she was afraid. Afraid of what the answer might be, and that too was a worry. Because if she was afraid, it meant she cared. About him. And God knew she didn’t want to care. Didn’t want to have all these feelings for him at all, and yet she couldn’t seem to brush them aside.
Which really frightened her. He frightened her. He had the power to make her care deeply, and she didn’t want to go down that path with him. She’d been down it once before with Alistair and had been scratched by the brambles, then fell in the huge muddy puddle at the end of it.
Feelings sucked. Especially feelings for guys who only wanted “two-week girlfriends” and not relationships.
She hit the message app on her phone and texted him a quick message.
Sorry. I’m not sure I can make lunch today. Have a meeting that’s running late.
Almost as soon as she sent the text, her phone rang. No surprises as to who that was. “Hi, Luke.”
“Why will you be late?” he demanded without preamble. “Where are you?”
A small jab of annoyance poked at her, joining the guilt that already sat heavy in the pit of her stomach. “Hey, take it easy. I’m at the university meeting with the fine arts dean. I want to know whether I’m eligible for that degree before applying. But the guy’s running late and—”
“We have lunch together at one.”
She swallowed. “I know. I’m sorry.”
There was a pause down the end of the phone. “I need you here for lunch, Marisa.”
A strange kind of hurt turned sharp inside her. “No you don’t. Not really. It’s…a routine we’ve gotten into.”
“You’re not a routine, Marisa.”
“Every day we buy the same sandwiches from the same shop and we always sit in the same place at the same time. How is that not a routine?”
There was silence down the end of the phone for a moment. “I have lunch with you because I also like talking to you.”
She swallowed, a little bubble of longing bursting in her chest. “Do you?” she asked, before she could help it. “Do you really?”
Do you really? God, how desperate did she sound? Marisa sat back in the chair, hating her vulnerability.
“Of course I do,” Luke said, sounding impatient.
Oh sure, that was convincing. “I’m sorry, I probably won’t be able to make it to the park on time. We could have coffee at the café next to the office instead if you like.”
“We can’t meet near the office, you know that.”
No, of course they couldn’t. Because they might be discovered. Because of his precious rules. “It’s one coffee, Luke. No one’s going to suddenly think we’re in a relationship because they saw us having coffee together.”
“They saw us having lunch last week,” he said flatly. “Another date will cause people to talk.”
Marisa’s fingers tightened on her phone as the hurt slid deeper. Digging in more. So, once again, she’d become a man’s dirty little secret. Yay, her. “Who cares if they talk?” She tried to make her voice sound casual but it didn’t come out that way. “I mean really, who gives a crap if I’m seen with you?”
“I give a crap. The rules against workplace relationships are in place for a reason, Marisa. I can’t ignore them when it suits me. I’m the CEO. It’s not a good look.”
“Yeah, you’re the CEO. You were the one who made those stupid rules in the first place.”
“Which means I’m the one who can change them, presumably?” He made it sound like she wanted him to go murder a puppy or something.
“That’s not what I’m saying.”
“Then what are you saying?”
The hurt mixed with the anger, creating a giant ball of acid that sat painfully in her gut. “I’m saying that I’m sick of being a secret, Luke. I’ve been there before and it sucks.”