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Wintry silence settles between us as Luke considers my words.
“He didn’t want to slow down, too set on building the empire you two have amassed. And eventually, that’s how he lost Karen.”
Mike’s first and only wife is the closest I’ve come to seeing the man truly happy, and it pains me to know how far he’s strayed from that life since they separated. Still, I come to see my old friend whenever I can because I hope that someday, I might see him that happy again.
I just don’t want Mia to follow in her mother’s footsteps and choose a man who will leave her feeling abandoned once more. As petty as the thought is, I don’t doubt that I’ll be able to win Mia as long as I have the patience to outlast Luke. All I have to do is wait out the holiday, and he’ll be gone once again.
Hopefully then, Mia will see that Luke and her father are one and the same when it comes to work-life balance. Neither knows how to call the workday done.
“You know, I might be less like Mike than you give me credit for,” Luke says, his voice low and flat as his eyes follow Mia intently around the room.
“Oh? How so?” I fight to rein in my petty sense of competitiveness, wrestling my tone under control. Because as much as I might think I would be the better choice for Mia, I don’t actually dislike Luke in any way. When it comes down to it, I have a great deal of respect for the man. Just not when it comes to Mia raising a child with him over me.
“I set aside my personal relationships to focus on my career, you’re right. But I haven’t left the possibility for love behind me,” Luke says, turning his intense gaze back on me. “I’ve reached my business goals, and I’m proud of my success. But now I’m ready to slow down. I want to find a wife, to start a family. And I’m ready to put in the time and energy it will take to raise this child with Mia.”
I could almost believe him, his words are so convincing. And maybe that’s because Luke truly seems to believe them himself. But I’ve known men like him all my life, and as much as they say they’re ready to settle down, I don’t see him being capable of doing that permanently. Some men work to live, and some men live to work. That’s a core part of a personality and not something easily changed, in my experience.
“Well, then, I guess all I can do now is wish you luck trying to win Mia’s heart, because I assure you, I have no intention of stepping aside.”
“And neither do I,” Luke agrees.
“May the best man win?” I offer my hand in a gentleman’s agreement. No petty tricks to come out on top. This is about putting our best foot forward and letting Mia decide.
“May the best man win,” he agrees, clasping my hand with a cocky grin.
“But I think we can both agree that Cilian does not get to be a part of this competition.”
“Fuck no,” Luke says adamantly. “I suspect Mia’s too smart to think he would be, anyhow. He’s a playboy and always will be. The ladies might love him, but Mia must see that he’s ill-equipped to be a father.”
“Or a husband,” I agree.
Luke scoffs. “I don’t doubt that if she approached him about it, he’d probably turn and run the other way.”
That draws a laugh from me as I picture the billionaire Irishman from a notoriously shady family tucking his tail between his legs over the prospect of being called Dad.
10
MIA
Dinner feels like an intricate dance, Luke and Zach finding seats on either side of me while Lindsey sits on the far side of her father. Which would have been fine had they not started the meal out by having something of a tug-of-war over the chair they each attempted to pull out for me.
I watch in stunned silence as Luke wins the battle, offering me a charming smile as he gestures for me to take my seat.
“Thanks,” I say, though my eyes shift to Lindsey, and we share a silently bewildered look.
The teen just shrugs, like I should expect the men’s behavior to seem as irrational as she always does.
Then we settle in at the long table full of house guests who laugh and joke, carrying their conversations in from the cocktail hour.
“Have you had a chance to settle into your room yet, Mia?” Zach asks, his smile amiable as the serving staff offers each guest a glass of wine to accompany their meal.
“Oh, um, yes, thanks,” I say, answering Zach’s question. Then I realize the server thought I was asking for wine, and I scramble to recover the situation. “Sorry, none for me tonight,” I say, flashing the staff member an embarrassed smile as I cover my wine glass just in time to stop him short.
When I realize it’s the same young man who walked in on us in the pantry, my blush intensifies. But he either never got a good look at my face or he’s very skilled at hiding his feelings on the matter because he gives a politely indifferent bow before moving on to Luke’s glass.
“You look lovely this evening, by the way,” Luke says on my other side, drawing my attention.
“Thanks,” I murmur, heat flaming in my cheeks as I receive attention on either side of myself.
