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Carter
“Hey,you’rewalkingwellwith only one crutch now,” I say as I step into Luke’s apartment.
He laughs as he stands in the foyer, wearing a pair of gray pants and a fitted black shirt. He’s leaning against a single crutch, but his stance is more upright than the last time I saw him.
“Practice makes perfect, I guess,” I say, shutting the door behind me.
“More like persistence moves shit along.” He turns in the direction of the kitchen and uses his one crutch to help him cross through the living room.
I smile to myself as I follow behind him, making sure my reflexes are prepared in case he needs some assistance. So far, though, he’s walking perfectly on his own. He’s so inspiring; it’s annoying.
“Need any help with anything?” I ask when we enter the kitchen.
“If you want to help, get the plates out of the cabinet before the food arrives.” He gestures toward the cabinet above his counter.
“Sure,” I say and retrieve a couple of plates and bowls.
“Thanks,” Luke says and takes a seat, propping the crutch against the table. “So what’s up, Carter? We haven’t seen each other in a couple of weeks. How’s life?”
I sigh as I take out a few utensils from the drawer below the cabinet. “Busy,” I say, taking the seat across from him. “There’s still so much to do before we begin casting in a couple of months. We still haven’t finalized the script or secured all the locations. It’s starting to stress me out.”
I throw my face into my hands as I mull over all the shit that still needs to get done. Not only that, but I’m still reeling over my weekend with Mia. I’ve never been with a more sexually compatible woman before. I keep finding myself craving her touch, her taste, everything about her. A weekend wasn’t enough to satisfy my desire for her. I need more.
“If it means anything, I’d kill to be as busy as you are now,” Luke says. He chuckles, but I can tell it’s driving him crazy being at home while he recovers.
I frown to show him some remorse. I’d definitely hate to be cooped up in my apartment for weeks on end. Sure, I’d enjoy it at first, but I can see how it would wear someone like Luke, who loves his work and being productive.
“Actually, something else happened that I haven't told you about,” I say, sitting up straight.
Luke tilts his head curiously. “Like what?”
“You know Mia’s ex? That creative executive I told you about?”
He breaks into a smile. “Yeah. What about him?”
“I brought Mia to a work event, and he was there. He threatened to have some photos of her and me on her wedding day published, then tried putting his slimy little hands on her.”
“Oh, shit,” Luke says. He rests the side of his face against his palm, immersed in the gossip. “Did you intervene?”
I smirk. “I beat the shit out of him.”
He lets out a laugh. Something tells me he isn’t buying it. “No way.”
I hold my hand up. “Okay, okay. I punched him twice. But Ididmake him bleed. I would have kept going if security hadn’t stopped the fight.” I join in on Luke’s uncontrollable laughing fit. “You should have seen Peyton. He was pissed that I nearly caused a scene at his club.”
Luke and Peyton aren’t close, but they’ve met enough times for him to know how hilarious it is when Peyton reacts to the possibility of losing some money.
The doorbell rings as we compose ourselves. “That must be the food,” Luke says.
I rise before he can. “I’ll get it,” I say, heading over to the door.
When I open it, a member of Luke’s hotel staff is carrying two bags from Thai Villa, a restaurant Luke and I frequent whenever I come over.
“Thanks,” I say and take the bags from him. I set them down on the table and remove the boxes, opening them up to make it easier for Luke to serve himself. Luke digs in, adding food from various boxes onto his plate. I sit back down and dig in myself.
“Do you think fighting him is enough to keep him from publishing those pictures?” Luke asks once we’ve both filled our plates up with food.
“I didn’t tell Mia, but I reached out to him after the gala. I gave him a warning and told him to destroy the photos, along with any copies he may have,” I say, and wrap some crunchy noodles around my fork.
