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Hell, my reflection isn’t exactly a sight that will give Brad any confidence that I’m not out here being heartbroken. My hair is gathered up in two messy buns, my oversized hoodie drowns me, and I’ve got comfy sweats tucked into my even comfier socks.

But, fuck it, I’ve got my body weight in cheese and chocolate ice cream to consume. Who cares if I’m sporting trash-panda chic? Certainly not the girl who has to figure out a way not to blurt out to her friend that she’d rather be worshipping his dad’s cock.

I scoop out a little of the face mask and smear two fingers across my cheek in charcoal gray. Just as I’m about to start layering that bitch on thick, my doorbell rings.

God. Here we fucking go.

With an exaggerated sigh through my nose, I patter my way to the front door, drooping the tub of face mask I’d been carrying on the kitchen counter as I go past.

“Hope you brought food, ’cause I will cut a bitch if you try to steal my piz—”

My throat closes over mid-sentence.

Dark eyes find mine from beneath the brim of a hat I’ve been dreaming about for weeks on end. A broad chest fills my vision. The scent of leather and the faint hint of soap engulf me.

“Hey.”

I blink like a barn owl. Lucas Rhodes is on my doorstep.

“I did bring you something to eat, hopefully that’s okay?”

Oh my god. My knees feel like they’re going to buckle.

“Luke? What are you doing here?”

“Can I come in?” His lips twitch a little as his eyes sweep over me, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

“Are you carrying a Crock-Pot?”

“It’s called a casserole dish, actually. Do you have mud on your face?” he counters.

I want to die right here. I do have mud on my face, and I’ve got sweats on, and I’m wearing my baggiest, comfiest, least sexy outfit I could possibly have chosen.

Meanwhile, this man looks like the angels plucked him straight from cowboy heaven and delivered him to my door.

“Why are you here?” My knuckles turn white around the door handle.

Luke’s brows crease, and he hesitates a moment, sending my pulse into an erratic, thudding mess.

“I told Brad everything. Well, more accurately, he harassed me nonstop after you left, kept on at me until he wore me down, and I told him what was wrong with me.”

Oh god. My face pales.

Luke’s expression isn’t giving me any clues. Is Brad upset? Angry? When I spoke to him earlier, he seemed fine …

“He was a bit weirded out at first, but to be honest, Skylar, it’s been him convincing me for the past few weeks that I needed to come here and see you.”

“Weeks? Brad has known for weeks?” I whisper-screech. Eyes nearly hanging out of my head.

“My kid is a lot of things, but I didn’t expect him to be so … uhh … enthusiastic about me coming over here.”

“Luke … I …”

My heart is doing backflips and somersaults, but I’m so uncertain what this actually means. We haven’t spoken since that final night we had together on New Year. No matter how many times I went to text him, I couldn’t bring myself to press send because I didn’t want to give hope a chance to bloom.

“Skylar, I had to come and see you. I’ve been battling with myself this past month because all I want is for you to be happy. You’ve got your life, your business, so much ahead of you, and it would eat away at me if I fucked any of that up by selfishly knocking on your door.

“But you gotta know, I was serious when I said in another life … and maybe, just maybe, this is our life after all. If there’s any chance you might want to let me be part of yours, I gotta have you know my heart is here. It’s with you, even if this isn’t something you want. I fell harder than I knew could be possible in just a few short days, and I miss you. So fucking much.”