Page 80 of Relationship Goals

I raise an eyebrow at myself in the mirror, then grimace around the pink toothbrush. Mascara and eyeliner have decided to abandon their posts, trekking into the valleys under my eyes. It’s not a good look, and my face scrunches up in response.

Shit. I didn’t bring any makeup, either. Not that I normally wear makeup to Pilates, but Luke hasn’t seen me without makeup.

I inhale slowly.

“You’re being an idiot, Abigail,” I tell myself in the mirror. “He kissed you with morning breath. He doesn’t care about that shit.”

Happiness bubbles to the surface, making me feel light and lovely. Maybe we could just skip the smoothie and have another quickie—

“Bad idea,” I say to my reflection.

No time for more sex.

Only time for a quick rinse and Pilates.

No more sex.

For now.

Chapter Twenty

Luke

Abigail Hunt isone of the cutest, most beautiful, and most refreshing people I have ever been around.

She’s pulled down her giant glasses on her face, and they practically swallow her fine-boned features, making her look even more adorable.

“You’re sure Princess will be okay?” It’s the third time she’s asked since we left the house thirty minutes ago, and I love how much she cares about the kitten already.

I also might be slightly obsessed with how much I like her in my clothes.

“I’m sure,” I tell her. “She knows where the litter box is, she was eating well and keeping it down. I’ll take her to the vet this afternoon and get her checked out, but she’ll be fine while we’re at your exercise class.”

I sneak another peek at her, the long cutoff sleeves of one of my old Aces shirts showing off her toned stomach. I spent a good portion of the night fantasizing about pulling up the end of my jersey and finding out exactly what she had on underneath it.

And then I got to do exactly that this morning.

I am not sure anyone has ever woken up to something better thanher tiny snores only to get to undress her and worship her body the way she deserves. Getting her to the class instead of holding her hostage in bed all day means I deserve an award, however.

Abigail hemmed and hawed about wearing a pair of old flip-flops my mom left here, but when I told her my mom wouldn’t mind at all, she seemed to brighten up and put them right on. They’re a little big on her, just like the shirt and the sunglasses.

My mom wouldn’t mind, either. She would be thrilled.

She would love Abigail, and the thought hurts as much as it makes me feel warm.

“That’s it right there,” Abigail says, stabbing a finger at an upscale shopping center at the same time my GPS pipes up and tells me to turn right. She twists the hem of the Aces shirt in her hand. “You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. I can call an Uber to get home.”

“You are not calling an Uber.”

“Okay, I could call a car service. I don’t want to bother—”

“Iwantto spend time with you.”

“Lauren is, uh, a little intense. I’m just warning you,” she says, taking the sunglasses off and staring at me with her big green and hazel eyes. She looks even better without makeup, in my opinion—even more real, more beautiful, more Abigail.

Seeing her like this makes me feel closer to her, like I’ve been let in on a secret that no one else gets the privilege of knowing.

“You make me feel special,” I say, then frown at my non sequitur. “I couldn’t give a fuck about Lauren. Besides, I need the recovery workout after yesterday.”