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No. Not home. House.
Then I went to boarding school at eleven and that definitely wasn’t home. I shared a room with three other girls for seven years, then stayed in the ballet company’s housing when I was in Spain. Hotels when we traveled.
My first home was my Hunter Valley little apartment.
“It’s a house, not your home,” I said.
This huge mansion that was easily worth millions of dollars, was just a fancy place for him to crash. My apartment above Mrs. Waddle in Hunter Valley was tiny. The whole place wasn’t much bigger than his master bedroom. I slept in the living room on a daybed. But it was my home. My little safe haven with Sierra. I didn’t need big. I didn’t need a view. In our little cozy spot, I had my own little world with my daughter.
Luke had everything. Success, fame, fortune. But he had to be… lonely.
He stared at me for a second, then nodded. “Yeah, sounds about right. The one thing I do have is a TV. What do you say we pick something to eat and watch Dr. Shep Barnes in action?”
“Will he perform a triple craniectomy?” I asked, grinning.
He shrugged, then grinned. “I’m not spoiling it, except for the fact that my hair always looks spectacular.”
24
LUKE
* * *
“I can’t believe Priscilla died in an elevator accident.”
We were on his huge couch watching the first season of NYC ER. Chinese to-go containers were on a tray on the floor, long forgotten. For someone who didn’t watch TV, she was really into it. I’d never watched the episodes from start to finish before and it was a little weird to see, knowing how they were filmed and what was happening behind the scenes. Even more so with Aspen who never watched TV and had never seen me act. Ever.
“Her contract was up,” I explained about the Priscilla character.
“But you couldn’t save her,” she said, shaking her head in shame. “I thought Shep Barnes didn’t let anyone die.”
“Can’t save them all, tiger.” I reached for her feet and tugged so they were over my lap, her dress sliding a little up her thighs. Her legs were bare and silky smooth. Toned and gorgeous. I’d had her this afternoon on the plane, and I wanted her again. I loved having her to myself. No chaperones. No tabloids.
“You’re a pretty convincing doctor.”
“Only pretty convincing?”
She tore her eyes from the TV and Priscilla’s funeral to look at me. “Well, I know the real you.”
“I’m not cut out to be a real doctor, huh?” I asked, not put out.
“Mallory would push Theo in front of a bus if she thought she had a shot with you.”
“I’m aware, and so is Theo,” I grumbled.
“Women love you.”
“They love Shep.”
What about you, Aspen? Do you love me, the real me? Do you love Luke? Could you?
Seeing her watch the show made me wonder if I, Luke, was enough for someone like Aspen. She saw the plane. The house. The TV show. She said she knew the real me. But did she like him–Luke–or was she expecting more? Could I be enough?
“And your hair,” she added.
I couldn’t help but grin. I had good hair. Wavy. Curly. Dark. “I think it needs its own contract.”
She cocked her head, then shifted her feet off my lap, spun around and settled back against me. I moved so her back was to my front as she was tucked beneath my chin, my arm around her shoulder. Fuck, this was better. “How did you get into acting?” she asked.
