Page 30 of The Wedding Run (The Wedding Letter #1)

Libby

L uke turns on classical music. Is he setting a romantic scene? I sit on the loveseat. Part of me wants to embrace this yearning. Another part of me knows it’s too soon. I need reasons not to engage.

I peek under the loveseat. No dust bunnies. Drat.

A stack of magazines sits on the coffee table, and I pick through them.

There’s a Trave l magazine and the Smithsonian .

At the bottom of the stack is Victoria , a magazine with a fancy china teapot and a gorgeous, three-tiered cake on the cover.

I flip through it in search of something that might offer a clue about the teabag.

“That’s my mom’s,” he says. “In case you were wondering.”

“I was thinking of Dumbledore and his knitting magazine,” I manage.

“Fourth book?” he asks.

“ Half-blood Prince ,” I correct.

“I should have known. My mother wants Roxie to use a recipe for the shop. I keep forgetting to give it to her.”

I close the magazine and straighten the stack, but the rugged Cliffs of Moher grab my attention. Holding up Travel , I ask, “Where would you go if you could go anywhere?”

Luke dries a pan. “So many places, so little…”

“Time?” I offer.

“Money.” He laughs as he folds the dishtowel. “I’d love to travel across Europe, seeing cathedrals and ruins, walking through history.” He moves into the den and pours more wine into my glass. “Would you like coffee instead?”

“That might keep me up all night.” If thoughts of Luke don’t. “Where else?”

He sits in the reading chair. “All the usual touristy places. Paris, London, Rome, Barcelona. But also the villages and towns no one’s ever heard of and I can’t pronounce, the little mom and pop cafes.”

“Sounds lovely.” I lean into the loveseat’s cushions.

“Where would you go?”

I don’t even have to think about it. I point to the magazine cover. “Ireland.”

“That was very decisive,” he says.

“It’s always been on my list. And yes, before you ask, I do have a list.”

He chuckles as if he knew without asking. “Where else?”

“Same as you. Paris, Rome. All the famous places I’ve only read about.

I want to see artwork, Renaissance paintings, and the Impressionists.

I love Renoir. I want to see where the great writers lived.

Dickens. Burns. Jane Austen. And all the sights like this.

” I look at the cover of Travel . “Sights that take my breath away.”

Right then, I envision Luke and I walking hand in hand, sampling gelato, drinking wine, taking pictures in front of the Eiffel Tower or on the Amalfi Coast, dipping our toes in the Mediterranean. Then, Luke pulling me against him for a long, slow kiss?—

Whoa! Stop with the kissing.

I break eye contact with him, sip more wine, which I do not need, and try to breathe.

“I’ll be right back.” He steps out of the room, angling down a hallway.

It takes a minute for my heartbeat to slow. What are you doing, Libby? Are you going to seduce him? Shut up , I tell myself, and fluff my hair.

This is much too fast. It’s too early. But I’m tempted. Really tempted. Luke is kind and generous and hot. Let’s be real.

He returns carrying a laptop, which seems odd. But whatever. Maybe he’s going to show me vacation photos. He tilts the laptop screen toward me. “I came across some old photos. Thought I’d show you some from our college days.”

Our? My spine stiffens. “You mean you and Derek?”

“You asked about our college days. Remember?” He clicks open a picture of Derek posing with kids. Vaguely in the background, I spot a fuzzy Luke carrying a pile of packages.

“Our fraternity collected presents for an orphanage each Christmas,” he explains.

He’s hyping Derek. Anger covers my disappointment. I cross my arms over my chest. “What are you doing, Luke?”

“Huh?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I thought you’d be interested… If you’re not…”

I remain silent. Fuming actually. Then I remind myself of my plan. “Fine. Show me about Derek.”

He clicks onto another picture. Instantly, I recognize Derek dressed as Billy Gibbons from ZZ Top with a fake beard and furry guitar. In the background, Luke plays an electric guitar. But it looks real.

“This was lip-synch night. Can you guess who Derek is?”

I shift the conversational spotlight onto Luke and playfully touch his arm. “I didn’t know you played guitar.”

“It’s been a while.”

“Derek’s faking it,” I add. “But you… I’ve always loved boys in the band.”

Luke takes the hint and clicks on another picture. A photo emerges of Derek and Luke, numbers pinned to their chests, as they run a 5K. Even in that captured moment, I can see the competition on Derek’s face as he’s pumping hard to beat Luke.

“And you’re athletic. Do you still run?”

He shakes his head. “Not much time these days.”

“I’m showing you a different side you might not have seen before.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I say, not bothering to look at the next photo but keeping my focus on Luke. “Another charity event. I get it. Derek’s generous. Worried about humanity. Got it. But I want to know more about you, Luke Maine.”

“Uh, Libby, what are you doing?”

My irritation snaps, and I slap the laptop closed. “Enough! Did Derek put you up to this? Do you think you owe him something because he invested in your company?”

“He wants to work things out with you, Libby.”

“I’ve already told him I’m not marrying him. And so, I’ll tell you too. I am not marrying Derek. Get it?”

“You don’t love him?” Luke probes.

“No.”

Luke blinks with surprise. Frankly, I’m shocked how quickly I denied it.

“Did you ever?” he probes.

It feels like an accusation, not from Luke but from my own heart. I’m not proud of this, but I confess, “I’m not sure. Of course, I care about Derek. But love? I don’t think so. At least, not the way I should have.”

“It’s okay, Libby. I’m not judging you.”

“Well, I am!” My voice cracks with the weight of humiliation. “It’s a horrible thing to admit. But it’s true.”

“It’s okay, Libby. I understand.”

I nod, and for some reason, I keep nodding, like I’m trying to accept what I’ve said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Libby.”

“I feel like I should explain.”

“You don’t have to do that either.”

I face him then. “When my mother died, it was the worst thing that has ever happened to me. It broke me. You know? Here.” I place my hand over my heart.

“Somehow in her short life, she left a legacy of love. But I’m afraid…

” I swallow hard to combat the threatening tears.

“I’m afraid to love. Because when you do, then you lose the person you love.

They either walk away and break your heart or die and shatter your life forever. So, if you don’t… if you don’t…”

My throat chokes off any more words.

Luke moves toward me. “If you don’t ever love, then when you lose someone, it doesn’t hurt as much?”

I clench my jaws to control the emotions surging inside me. “Something like that.”

“I get it,” he says. “I’ve had someone walk away.

And I lost someone I loved. Hurt doesn’t even begin to describe the pain.

But if I think about erasing that person, of never knowing her, of never enjoying her company and the times we shared…

well, it’s better to have loved, and yes, even to have lost, than never to have loved at all. ”

“Seriously? Don’t throw some cliché at me, Luke.”

“Libby, marriage isn’t a paint-by-numbers activity. How do you expect any relationship to survive the ups and downs of life if there isn’t love to begin with?”

“I don’t know!” The words burst out of me. “I don’t have the answers. And I didn’t handle things the right way with Derek. It’s all my fault. I get it!”

He meets my gaze squarely, but something in his eyes is softer and gentler than the edge I feel. “You made a list, didn’t you?” he asks. “Of whether you should marry Derek or not.”

“People make lists all the time to make a decision.”

“How’d that work out for you?” His words take the breath right out of me.

My gaze narrows. “Did you do the Disney thing with your engagement and follow your heart?”

He doesn’t answer.

“How’d that work for you, Luke?”

We stand, toe to toe. I’m breathing like I climbed twenty floors. He’s calm, as if removed from the emotional trauma.

“You’re all sanctimonious, Luke,” I fire at him, “but the truth is you go out with this girl, Benepole?—

“Bethany—”

“—or somebody else, without really committing. That’s it, isn’t it? Derek told me. You act like you owe your life to him or something. That’s where your loyalty lies.”

“That’s not it,” he says, his voice deep and raw with emotion.

“Then what? I’m not stupid. You’ve been interested in me. From what you said before you kissed me. And maybe because you’ve volunteered to help me figure out the teabag. It’s all been a charade, hasn’t it? But you restrained yourself. Because of Derek.”

“He’s my friend.”

“Or is it because he owns most of your business?”

“He’s my friend.”

“Keep believing that. Except for that kiss. Am I right? Trust me, Derek would never give you the same courtesy.”

He closes the gap between us and grasps my arms. He pulls me closer. I want him to kiss me. I want more. And I can’t explain it. It doesn’t make sense. But it’s there – the want, the need, the hope pulsing between us. I see the same desire smoldering in his eyes.

And I’ve pushed him… us, to this edge.

But then he shutters the desire, clamping it off. I sense his tension, his grip on my arms, his shallow breathing. Gently but firmly, he sets me away from him.

“It’s getting late,” he says, his voice rough.

“You have to do what feels right. For you.”

And that’s it. No romantic interlude. No inkling as to what Luke is thinking. Or feeling. I realize that what I want is not what Luke wants. And maybe it never was or can be.

And now, I have something real and solid to put on my ‘What not to like about Luke’ list.