AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Luke is wearing a black shirt with buttons undone and equally black pants. He’s seated on one of the couches, his phone in hand. His blond hair looks disheveled, and he looks like he didn’t sleep in his own bed. If I had to guess, I’d say he’s coming straight here from an overnight outing—which is just like him.
“Hey. Want a sandwich?” He reveals a box with two sandwiches. “Yours is the bigger one.”
I grab the bigger sandwich and sit opposite him. I notice an opened pack of chocolate cookies on one of the white couches. Some crumbs are on the seat, staining it.
I glare at Luke, and he senses it.
“I gave it to her, yeah.”
His eyes don’t leave his phone. I take a bite of the sandwich he made, chew quickly, and swallow just as fast. I regret it immediately as the large bite gets stuck in my throat. I cough loudly, and Luke offers me a glass of juice I hadn’t noticed. I drink slowly this time.
“I’ve gotta watch her sugar intake,” I say in a throaty voice, secretly proud of my fatherly take.
“It’s just cookies. Let her be a kid.”
“And I’m her dad. Let me be a dad.”
“She told me she wants to go bathe herself.”
“Yeah, she does that sometimes.”
“A five-year-old who bathes herself. You’re raising a champ there, man.”
I don’t feel like I am. I think she’s the way she is despite me, not because of me, but I stop myself from saying it. My phone vibrates in my pocket. Probably a text from someone at the construction site. It can wait.
“It took you less than 72 hours to come back to Carolina. Miss me already?” My eyes crinkle at the sides as I smirk at him with a bite of sandwich in my mouth.
“You have no idea, dude.”
I look him over. “You look like shit.”
He looks up from his phone. I notice his bloodshot eyes. “I was at Alan Ritchie’s club opening most of the night. It was a crazy night, Tristan. It was insane. He hired the craziest strippers I’ve ever seen, man—like high-quality stuff. And you know how many strippers I’ve seen.”
Alan Ritchie is a popular studio executive who parties more than he works. I try to steer clear of him—my alcoholism and whatnot—but Luke doesn’t care about those things.
“I’d ask for details, but I don’t want to puke up my sandwich.” I made a disgusted face as Luke smiles at me, proud of himself.
“You still haven’t said thanks, by the way.” Luke raised a hand.
“Thanks, Chef, for this delicious sandwich. It’s heaven on earth.”
“You’re welcome.”
Luke’s fingers fly across his screen as he continues typing. I eat my sandwich as I turn on the television. The low hum of voices arguing about politics on CNN fills the quiet room. I finally finish the sandwich, but my stomach growls loudly for more.
“Want mine?”
“You’re not hungry?” I stare hungrily at Luke’s sandwich.
“Your growling stomach tells me you’re hungrier than I am. Also, I can just make another sandwich. Contrary to what you might think, it’s not difficult.”
I ignore the insult as I snatch the sandwich from his hands and wolf it down. I gulp down my fruit juice and lie down on the couch. Luke finally sits up and drops his phone on the wooden table in the center of the room. He rubs his eyes and yawns loudly, and I wonder if he’s gotten any sleep.
“Why didn’t you go home, freshen up, and get some sleep before flying out here and driving from the airport?”
“Shit! I just remembered. Yeah, because I have news, and it can’t wait.” Luke sits up suddenly, his posture tense.
“Yeah?” I say without sitting up; the sandwich already made me feel heavy.
