“Oh.” I draw my satchel across my chest. The battered leather isn’t fit to be a shield, but I need a layer of protection between us. “Hi.”
“I was hoping I’d see you tonight.”
“Well, here I am.”
Despite Sawyer’s insistence otherwise, Iamawkward, and even though I hate the word, I’m probably quirky, too. So, instead of squaring my shoulders and lifting my chin like a normal person, I twirl on the spot. The plaid pleats of my skirt swirl in the dark until I end the ridiculous display with a curtsy.
“And here I go,” I say.
I waste no time escaping. My feet fly down the sidewalk. But Luke easily matches my pace—without the burning face and heaving chest—and he walks shoulder to shoulder beside me.
“Did the clinic close late tonight?” Confusion edges his voice. He’s probably never been stood up before.
“I locked up right on time,” I say.
“No walk?”
“I go for a walk along the waterfront every day after work.”
“Not today.”
“Everyday.”
“How did I miss you?”
I scoff a bitter laugh. “Perhaps you were too busy cozying up to your best friend, Kristen.”
My footsteps continue alone down the sidewalk.
“Bloody hell,” he mutters.
I don’t wait for him to finish having his epiphany. I’m out of there.
“Elsie!” Urgent steps burst against the pavement behind me. “Wait.” Luke’s hand clutches mine, and he tugs me to a stop.
With my eyebrow creeping up, I turn to face him. Oh, the glare that man gets from me! “Are you sure you want to do that?” I snap. “What if the journalist sees you? Imagine the scandal!”
“I’m sorry you heard that.”
Everything in me knots at once. No explanation. Not even a proper apology! “But you’re not sorry you said it?” I choke out.
“Els…”
“Anyof it?”
Luke’s eyes whip in every direction, and his throat bobs on a nervous swallow. We’re not alone anymore. An elderly couple strolls hand-in-hand on the other side of the street. I don’t recognize them. Tourists, probably. But he’s not taking any chances. He leans in.
“You have every right to be upset.” His voice drops even lower. “But I don’t like people knowing—”
“About me. Yes, I know. I heard you.”
“That’s not—”
“Don’t.”
Sawyer was right. Standing up for myself doesn’t have to be loud. But the hiss of that word escaping between my clenched teeth is ugly and unfamiliar. Adrenaline floods me. My knees wobble.
“Oh… Els…”
