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I tried to look somewhere behind his head, anything to avoid meeting his gaze. “Well, like I said, my car was broken into and it needed to be fixed.”
His voice was flat. “But repairing a windshield only takes an hour.” He wasn’t getting it.
Tears welled in my eyes.
Don’t cry, you idiot.
My hands balled into fists until my fingernails bit painfully into my flesh.
“Yes, well, I couldn’t afford it. So they kept my car.” I couldn’t quite keep the pain out of my voice.
None of us said anything for a while. No doubt, he was looking for some phrase, some appropriate response for this situation he had been taught in his gentlemen classes at his overseas boarding school.
“I’ll call a town car.”
His thumb moved rapidly over his cell phone. I swallowed the lump in my throat.
“No, really. It’s okay. I’m fine with taking the BART. I do it all the time. It’s no big deal.”
“Neither is calling a town car.”
I wanted to argue, but his hand reached out and touched my shoulder, squeezing it.
He wore a nonchalant smile on his face, as if he hadn’t noticed the tears welling in my eyes, but of course he had and was just trying to make me feel better.
“Okay.”
A few minutes later, a sleek black Mercedes rolled next to the curb. I revolved on the spot with a heavy feeling in my stomach. Well, that’s it.
“Thank you so much for everything, Luke.”
He nodded. “I’ll contact you in a few days if all is well.”
He swept down and planted a swift kiss on my cheek. The spot burned like a hot poker and the faint smell of his shampoo drifted inside my nose. I could still feel the imprint of his lips on my face.
The kiss surprised me so much that I forgot to say goodbye. I let out an embarrassing giggle and ducked into the security of the smooth, leather car interior. Luke leaned down near the passenger’s side to exchange words and a handful of cash with the driver.
Feeling light, I laid my hand across my cheek where he kissed me for a long time, marveling at how something so brief could feel so good.
I still felt like I stumbled into some kind of fairytale when the car dropped me at my house. Maybe a fairytale wasn’t accurate. It was like a bizarre dream. In what world did a gorgeous billionaire pay women to date him when he could have any woman he wanted?
I stepped out before the driver could open my door and gave him an awkward wave. Whoops.
He gave me a cursory look and sped away when I stepped on the sidewalk. I shrugged as I watched the town car blast down the street. I struggled to open my door for several minutes until I realized I used the wrong key. Finally, I pushed it open and strode inside.
The back of Natalie’s head was against the couch. She whirled around as soon as I entered and stood up, looking apprehensive.
“Jess, look, I’m sorry for what I said.”
Seeing her looking so tired in her pajamas stirred my guilt. She waited for me all night and probably wondered if my face would appear on the evening news.
I was too tired to argue. “It’s fine.”
Her hands fidgeted. “You didn’t text me.”
“Ah, sorry. I forgot,” I said as I hung my coat in the closet.
“Well, how was it?”
