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When Sal gets home a little after six, Luke’s already there, waiting for her. He’s raising a brow, straightening up from his perch on the front porch step. “Well?” he asks, coming toward her to meet her in the gravel drive. Taking her gently by the shoulders, he peers into her face. “What’s the word, darlin’?”
Love ripples through her. Luke’s been worrying all day. She’ll never stop loving how he cares so damn much, how he’ll do anything necessary to take care of her.
She reaches up and grips his thin black tie. He’s still in the suit from his photoshoot. “Well, word is, your girl’s anemic.”
Relief flashes across his face. “That’s it?”
“With a side of dehydration.”
He groans, rolling his eyes up to the pink sky. “Sal ...”
“I know,” she says quickly, intercepting his worry. She smiles. “I’m okay, though, I promise.”
“You sure?”
“So sure. Don’t worry.”
“I always worry.”
“Just kiss me, Luke.” Taking his handsome face between her hands, Sal stands on tiptoes to kiss him deeply. She tastes the whiskey on his breath, the scent of rosewood oil and wood shavings.
Luke responds by wrapping his arms around her waist to pull her closer. His kiss—tender, sparking—has her blood pulsing, her heart beating as if it will never stop.
When they break away, gasping, chuckling, Luke’s lean hands cup her cheek. He stares at her, nothing but love in his warm, dark eyes.
She damn near melts right then and there. She’s so tempted. Tempted to tell Luke. It’s on the tip of her tongue. She’s pregnant. A new road. A baby.
But the anticipation, the excitement’s quickly chased away. It hits her like a brick. She could lose it. Again. Another baby gone.
She tunes out the awful thought. Tunes out the guilt about keeping her news from Luke. Instead, she reminds herself about the conversation she overheard on Sunday.
It’s only for two weeks. She’ll hit twelve weeks and tell him then.
Until then, she can’t get his hopes up.
She turns her cheek into his palm, savoring his touch. Looking up at him through heavy lashes, she asks, “How was the interview?”
He scoffs, his drawl tight and irritated. “They had us out in a cornfield in damn suits. Hot as hell, sweating for two hours.”
“Bet they got some good photos.” Sal eyes Luke with appreciation. He looks sharp and sexy in the dark navy suit.
“They better have or Seth will never let me hear the end of it.” He chuckles. “Interview was good, though. It’ll be great for the album. How about you?”
She nuzzles against his broad chest, letting the warmth, the strength of his body support her. “It’s been a weird day.” The closest to the truth she can get. She smiles. “But a good one.”
Luke traces a finger across her cheekbone. His eyes search out hers. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Sal kisses him again and whispers, “A great one.”
Luke frowns. Every light in the kitchen is off.
Dark. Dim. Silence.
Sal stands near the fridge, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders, her eyes blank. She stares at Luke. She holds out her hand.
In it, a miniature airplane.
Luke blinks in confusion. “Sal ...”
