not alone in this.
Luke is a good and decent person. He works hard and does the right thing, and he loves his brother, and his brother-in-law, and his adorable niece. He loves them all so much because they bring warmth and joy to his life. His mother? He stopped loving her when she became too much of a nightmare to live with, and good for him. It’s more than most normal people can manage.
But do you want to know why he loves me? I know. It’s because my coolness reassures him after years of his mother’s erratic, obsessive love. Because I pump up his ego when he needs it and I make him laugh. And because I give the most mind-blowing blow jobs he’s ever experienced and I’m down for sex at the drop of a hat.
That’s it. That’s love. No need to write poetry about it; I’ve solved the riddle.
So no, I don’t need Kayla’s love. But I really, really want the spark of her companionship.
I smile widely at her as she hums over her first giant bite of ice cream. “When you’re done with lunch, we’ll go shopping and get you all fixed up. Some new clothes. A haircut. Beautiful toes.”
Kayla nods and smiles back, a dollop of whipped cream adorably perched on the end of her little nose. But her eyes stay cold and careful, waiting.
Good girl.
CHAPTER 19
We have a fantastic day on the town. There’s no need to relive the boring details and write them in our diaries. Everyone knows what a fun shopping day is like.
Kayla’s hair has been tamed. It’s nearly the same length, but it’s cut at a sharp angle now, the front sliding about two inches longer past her shoulders than the back. The dirty blond is brighter too, with a few light streaks near the front that Kayla asked for. Her eyes look less muddy and more green.
Her fingers and toes are aqua blue with tiny green crystals on the pinkie nail of each hand. They look nice against her expensive new jeans and white rhinestone flip-flops. Her new ruffled black shirt cost nearly one hundred dollars, and it makes her pale skin glow.
She’s flushed with excitement, and the rush of blood has chased away her sickly waifishness. Now she looks like a healthy little colt of a girl instead of a hungry child raised on the streets. This relationship might be just what we both need.
“Do you want to go out for dinner or order in?”
She glances around the living room with an assessing eye as we drop our bags next to the big dining table. “I liked the lunch here,” she says.
“It’s good food, but it’s much more exciting to go out and show off your new hair and nails and clothes after a big day. You get to enjoy the fruits of someone else’s labor.”
“Can we go somewhere fancy?” she asks, her jaw jutting out as if she’s ready to challenge any denial.
“Obviously. I already checked Yelp and found a high-end Northern Italian place nearby. Does that sound good? Or would you prefer steak?”
“I like meatballs,” she says, so I shrug and grab a reservation for fifteen minutes from now. Northern Italian or not, I trust they know that folks in America would expect meatballs.
“I reserved a table. Let’s go.”
When we get back to the lobby, her flip-flops slap the granite with the same echoing volume of her old shoes, but at least these sparkle and shine as she walks. I watch her gaze slide over the happy hour crowd in the hotel bar. There are dozens of men in there, all in dark suits, all loosening up their already loose morals with booze. Her eyes narrow as if she’s counting their money.
“Come on, girl. You’re off the clock right now.”
“What?” she snaps back in a sharp whine. “I wasn’t doing anything.”
“Do you think you can get past this sex-scheme phase, or is this it for you?”
“Whatever,” she mutters. “I was just looking around.”
“Okay, sure.”
The wind has picked up since we were out shopping, and she’s obviously cold as we walk, but she doesn’t admit it because I told her to grab a sweatshirt or something and she didn’t. She doesn’t want to cover up her cute new clothes. I understand that completely, and I admire the way she just clenches her fists and refuses to even cross her arms against the wind. I grin at the mountains of goose bumps that erupt on her skin as I