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Chapter Two
When Rose had left the apartment she shared with Alex, she’d left most of her things behind. She’d been too distraught to be practical, and she’d only packed one suitcase. When she had reached Luke’s home, she hadn’t even had the presence of mind to remember that she’d left that suitcase in the trunk of her car. Now, as he led her up the stairs, she told herself she would retrieve her belongings the next morning. Facing the rain again was the last thing she wanted to do.
She let her fingertips graze the oaken railing as she followed Luke to the second floor, and when he led her to the room where she’d spent countless nights with him when his parents had been away, her heart jumped into her throat.
Luke opened the door, and at the sight of the room beyond it, Rose’s heart sank. The silver sheets had been replaced by bedding of a more neutral tan, and none of Luke’s high school hockey trophies remained on the shelves. Instead, landscape paintings covered the walls—a beach at sunset here, a lush forest there.
“It’s a guest room now?” Rose asked before she could stop herself.
“I don’t know how much you’ve been keeping up with the news, but Mom and Dad moved to Washington full-time. The house is mine, now. So is the master bedroom.”
Rose’s pulse quickened at the thought. Naturally the first time they truly had the house to themselves, there was far too much distance between them for that to matter.
It’s your own fault, she told herself, staring at the wide brushstrokes of the beach painting above the pale wooden dresser. You never should’ve left in the first place.
“That’s great,” she said at last as she returned her focus to his face. His hair was a very light blond, missing the reddish tints of her own, and it was combed back and to the side. His chin was pointed and covered with a fine layer of stubble, his jawline sharp enough that she’d always been half-convinced he’d been sculpted from marble. No face should be so handsome. His pensive green eyes were fixed on her, and it took her a moment to regain her bearings enough to continue speaking. “I’m glad your mom’s kept her Senate seat and that you get the place to yourself.”
Luke shrugged stiffly. “I guess it’s all right.”
Rose studied him. He’d seemed startled to see her when she’d arrived, but he’d held her while she’d released four years’ worth of tears on his couch. Now, his expression was guarded again, like he wanted to pretend he hadn’t let her open up to him and opened up to her in return only a few minutes earlier. She knew she deserved this determination to keep her at a distance. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d caused him anything but pain, and she hated herself for it. But still, she couldn’t stand that his walls had gone up once more, shutting her out.
“Thank you for letting me stay,” she said quietly, fidgeting on her feet. “I think I’ll turn in, if that’s okay with you.”
He nodded. “Let me know if you need anything.”
Without another word, he stepped back out into the hallway and closed the door behind him. Rose let a few seconds pass and then leaned against the wall with a heavy sigh, her palms pressed to her face.
How was she going to tell him? She’d had enough of a hard time believing the truth herself. When she’d seen the second line form on the pregnancy test, she’d sat in a heap on the bathroom floor for hours before she’d managed to pull herself together enough to start packing her suitcase. She’d thought she’d loved Alex, but at the idea of raising a family with him, she’d been absolutely crushed. The only one she’d been able to think about was Luke. The one who’d held her while she’d cried until she’d run out of tears the night her parents had kicked her sister out of their house. The one who’d asked her to marry him, who had planned to spend his life with her before she’d thrown it all away.
She didn’t know how she could even begin to ask this of him. It was bad enough that she’d barged back into his life in the middle of the night and asked him to let her stay, as temporary as it was. But to raise a child with her… that was too much to ask.
Rose trudged to the bed, slipping out of her dark jeans and leaving them in a pile on the floor. She lay down and pulled the satin sheets up as tightly as she could, staring at the painted waves crashing onto the shore.
***
She didn’t realize she’d fallen asleep until she woke up staring at the white ceiling. No light entered through the blinds covering the window to her left, and she knew she couldn’t have slept for long.
Her body thrummed with restless energy, her legs itching to move. Reluctantly, she sat up and climbed out of bed. She doubted Luke was still up; it had been after midnight when she’d arrived, and he’d seemed as worn-out by their conversation as she had been. She was sure there was no harm in taking a walk.
Rose opened the door quietly and stuck her head out into the dark hall, and when she heard nothing but the ticking of a clock, she let some of the tension coiling her muscles relax. She stepped out onto the polished hallway floor and crossed her arms over her chest as the wood’s chill spread up through her body. She paced the hall, glancing in doorways to find the library just as she remembered—furnished with red leather armchairs, the shelves so filled with books there wasn’t a millimeter of space remaining—and the door to what had been Luke’s parents’ room half-open. A faint light spilled from within, and Rose’s stomach lurched, warning her to turn around.
He sat at the edge of the bed, which was covered with the silver silk Rose remembered from his old room. His eyes were closed, his head resting in his hands. He was shirtless, the firm muscles of his arms and chest exposed, and the sight sent a jolt of white-hot desire down to Rose’s lower abdomen. Luke was every bit as handsome as she remembered.
I shouldn’t be here.
Rose took a step backward. The floorboard creaked beneath her foot, and Luke looked up to meet her eyes as she swore under her breath.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I needed to take a walk.”
They stared at one another in silence. Rose’s heart was beating so quickly she thought she might be sick, and she was torn between the desire to run and avoid embarrassing herself further and the need to be closer to him. To touch him.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” Luke asked at last.
“Yes.” Rose’s throat was dry, and her feet refused to move.
Slowly, Luke stood and started toward her. His expression was neutral, but when he reached her, she saw a fire in his eyes that had haunted her dreams for the last four years.
“I shouldn’t be here,” she said, aloud this time.
