I trust him.
SEVENTY-SEVEN
LAYLA
Eventually, the kiss ends. I pull away from him slowly. He swallows, looking down at me.
“I love you,” I tell him. My heart is pounding so hard it hurts. “I love you. Love you.”
“God.” He clasps me against him. His chest shudders with hard breaths. “I could hear you say that until the day I died and it wouldn’t be enough.” He rubs his throat. “You know what Em would be saying, if she were here right now?”
“Get off my man, you bleach-blonde skank?”
He smiles, his eyes glistening. “Congrats. Ya big idiot. Or something to that effect.”
Tears fill my eyes. I don’t know what to say, so I just kiss him again.
When I finally pull away, my skin is fizzing. Zack stays at my back, stroking my arms as I turn to Luke. He’s sitting on the arm of the sofa, watching me, his face calm. The silvery strands of hair falling over his forehead are gilded in the low yellow light of the lounge’s side-lamp, and the sleeves of his white shirt are rolled to his elbows, exposing his strong forearms.
He looks edible. All I want to do is throw myself at him. But I don’t get to do that anymore.
His eyes run over my face, as if he’s drinking me in. “Is it my turn?”
“If you want one.” I meet his gaze steadily. “I meant it, when I said that I love you. I do. But I understand that a relationship with me looks bad to Amy, and the school, and your old teacher friends. It’s a bit of a shitty reason, in my opinion, but I get it.” I grit my teeth. “But if you have any concerns about me being too hot, or flighty, or easy, or whatever the Hell else, then you can go right to Hell. And I don’t think we can be friends anymore, either.”
He closes his eyes. “Love, this was never about Amy. It was about me. I was scared of you.”
“Scared of me?” I repeat incredulously.
He dips his head. “Yes. Please, believe me when I say that never for one second did I believe anything that Amy said about you. My decision to break up with you was entirely to do with my own issues. Going to that wedding, and seeing all those people again, just rubbed salt into a wound I thought I’d gotten over. I felt…” He trails off. “Well. To be honest, I felt stupid.”
“What?”
His grey eyes gleam. “I felt stupid for marrying Amy. Right before I broke it off with you, Amy told me that, during our entire marriage, she never once loved me. I was just a convenient choice. And everyone around me could see it. All of the signs were there. All the red flags. Hell, you were a sixteen-year-old girl who barely knew either of us, but I bet you knew she wasn’t a good person, didn’t you?”
I don’t say anything.
He sighs. “So, yes, I felt stupid. I felt like a total idiot, and I was defensive and embarrassed and scared of making the same mistake again. When Zack broke up with you, it felt like a perfect out. I chose wrong. I’m sorry.” He runs a hand through his hair. He looks tired. “I… I didn’t want to fall in love again. Right now, I’m content with my books and my friends and my work. This is enough. I wanted to keep it this way.” He smiles weakly. “But I couldn’t stop myself from falling in love with you, even if I tried. And I’m a coward for not admitting it to myself. Layla, you are so much braver than all three of us.”
I swallow thickly. “I’m scared of you, too,” I tell him honestly, and his face falls. “I’m scared you’ll change your mind about me again.”
“I’d marry you right now if I could,” he says evenly, and my heart flips.
Zack’s grip on me tightens. “Hey, I’m right here, can you not propose to my girlfriend?” He growls.
Luke ignores him. “I know you’re right for me, Layla. I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it to you, if that’s what you need.”
I nod slowly. “You trust me?” I ask. “Not to hurt you, or cheat on you, or—”
He shakes his head vehemently. “Jesus, Layla. Yes, always. It never crossed my mind not to.” Something tight inside me eases, and I step forward. He flinches, like he wants to reach for me, but doesn’t know whether he can.
“I trust you, too,” I tell him, looping my arms around his neck.
With a soft noise, he wraps his arms around me, tugging me onto his lap. I bury my face in his chest. He smells heavenly. Of books and tea and warm linen and home. I want to burrow into his shirt and never leave again.