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“Is she wrong? I mean, the cocktails and all. What the fuck, man?”
“Yeah, I figured that would draw attention, but I had to do it.”
“Don’t do those things if you don’t have any intention of sticking with it.”
“I was just trying to … you know, because of …”
He couldn’t bring himself to tell Luke the truth about what had happened later. And it sounded like Hope hadn’t told Libby, either, or Luke would have mentioned it.
“This isn’t D.C. Don’t play those games here.”
“I wasn’t playing a game. That was the last thing I wanted. I just wanted to close that loop from Ava’s wedding; make her smile over that, instead of …” He gritted his teeth. It sounded bad enough even without the additional info of what he had done after. He shouldn’t have done any of it.
Regret serrated his flesh in every direction.
“Make her smile? Didn’t you help her kid or something in school?”
“Is there anything those two aren’t talking about?”
“You tell me. Is there anything else we need to know?”
“We? No, there’s nothing else to know.” He hated lying, though he was good at it. Anything he told Luke would go straight to Libby. No. That was something he had to deal with alone.
“Good. Because you can’t escape something like this if shit gets too real, you know. So don’t start anything you can’t commit to.”
It wasn’t commitment, or wanting to escape, or shit getting real that he was afraid of. It was what that woman made him feel and knowing how fucked up he was.
“You’re preaching to the choir, Luke. I know. Trust me; I know.” He had never meant to start anything. Not with her. She didn’t deserve it. And he didn’t deserve her.
All that was left to do now was damage control … if only he could find a way to do it without succumbing to touching her again.
