Chapter 25

"Ithought you were fighting the stereotypes."

"I am! I'm not eating the ice cream with a wooden spoon." Emma put another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth, and wrapped her free arm more tightly around her legs.

Yes, she hadn't wanted to revert to eating ice cream. Yes, she hadn't wanted to wallow in self-pity. But what was she supposed to do? All she felt was empty … and maybe the ice cream could fill the gaping hole.

Milla sighed and sank into the couch next to her. The sofa was big and blue, and it felt as if it embraced you from behind if you sat down in it. You sank right into the cushions.

"Are you happy with your decision? Regarding the job, I mean?"

She was. "Yes, it was simply the right decision."

"And regarding–"

"If you say his name, I'm going to throw the ice cream tub at you."

Milla raised her hands defensively. "Alright, alright. I simply think …"

Her phone rang. She sighed. "We're not done yet," she murmured, before getting back up and taking the call.

"Yes?"

Emma didn't listen to her, she was busy staring at the ice cream tub in her hands, and thinking about what Mira and Jenny had said.

Had they been right? Had she failed to give him who shall not be named a fair chance? Had she judged him without hearing his side of the story?

"Okay … yes, okay …" Milla sat down again next to Emma and picked up the remote. "I already said … alright!" she said one last time, before hanging up with a sigh.

Emma looked up, bewildered by Milla's heated face. "Who was that?"

"Nobody," Milla said a little too hastily as she pushed a few buttons, until the TV came to life.

Emma looked at her sister with her mouth hanging open. Milla had taken on the same pink color as that of the walls in the tiny living room she had slept in for the last couple of nights.

"Was that … Luke?"

"No." Milla's voice had taken on a suspiciously high pitch, while she was still thumbing several buttons on the remote, looking slightly feverish.

"Milla! Since when are you talking to him?"

Her sister sighed and threw her an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, but he asked me to force you to watch something!"

Emma lowered her hand with the tub. "Milla! You're supposed to be on my side!"

"But I am, honey, I am. You're the one who doesn't seem to be on your side … just watch this, okay?"

She pressed one last button, and the TV showed a baseball game.

Emma groaned and felt her eyes start to smart when she saw that the Delphies were playing the Atlanta Braves. And of course the stupid camera guy had to zoom in on a certain dark head.

Wait a minute. Wasn't Luke still suspended? What was he doing in the stadium?

"He actually wanted me to drag you out there," Milla murmured quietly. "But I told him you would never …"

Emma wasn't listening. She was staring at the screen, where Luke was now handed a microphone, and jogged out onto the green.

"… What is Carter doing?" the commentator asked, sounding irritated. "I'm sure everyone knows that he's been suspended for three days including tonight, because he broke the nose of a fellow team member. And he's usually known for swinging a bat, not giving a talk. But let's see what he's up to."

Emma furrowed her brow.

Luke cleared his throat and looked straight at the camera, as if he knew exactly who was watching him right now. Then he said:

"I'm a diddiotool, I'm a diddiotool, I'm a diddiotool."

"What?" the commentator and Milla asked simultaneously.

But once again, Emma didn't listen to her. She stared at Luke's serious face … and made a sound that was half laugh and half hiccup.

Diddiotool.

He was a diddiotool.

"Emma? Do I have to get what he means?"

She wiped the tears from her cheeks and shook her head.

"No. Just … well, since nobody in that stadium got it either, it's still a little meager for an apology …"

"… and since Emma is going to say that nobody gets what I'm talking about, let me tell you that I'm an idiot, for hurting the woman I love."

Emma's heart skipped a beat. Had he just said he loved her? Had the great Luke Carter really admitted to having feelings, in public and on TV? The ice cream tub slipped from her hands and hit the floor.

"And if the press won't leave us alone, I'm going to sue every single person with a camera that approaches Emma!" Luke added defiantly, dropped the microphone, and ran from the field.

Emma jumped up and stared at the screen. "Where did he go?"

"I don't know, he just …"

Emma didn't wait, but grabbed her car keys, rushed out of the apartment … and ran right into Luke.

She stumbled backwards and looked up at him. "What … how … you were on TV just a minute ago!"

"It wasn't a live broadcast," he murmured. "I was standing before the door and … listening."

"You …" She swallowed, and felt the tears sting her eyes when she looked into his face and saw that he was insecure. She could see the way his index finger tapped his leg erratically, and his gaze nervously searched her face. He was insecure!

"You … were stalking me?" she finished her sentence, and her heart seemed to swell in her chest until it hurt.

Dear God, she was such a cliché in the end.

Luke snorted and raked a hand through his dark hair. "I wasn't … Jesus, could you please stop tantalizing me? I just declared my love for you on TV, in case you haven't noticed."

Emma leaned against the doorframe slowly.

"Well, the declaration was a little impersonal, don't you think? I mean, your voice was totally distorted and–"

"I love you, Emma."

"Oh." That was a lot better. Better than all the ice cream in the world.

"Let's cross out the ‘token,' Emma," he whispered and let his hand brush up against her throat. "I don't want to act anymore. Nothing I said to the guys was for real. You're not a groupie, and you're good enough. You're everything."

His thumb stroked her cheek.

"You're too good to be true. I think that's the reason it took me so long to understand that I love you. But now that I know–"

She snorted briefly and took his hand away from her cheek.

"Now that you know? Is that your apology? Luke, I … I don't know if I can do it like this. How can I be sure that you're not going to reconsider tomorrow? With you, everything is so … uncontrollable."

He took another step closer towards her, and put both hands around her face. "But why does it have to be controllable? Why can't we simply dive in and try, why do you have to control everything and everyone? Yes, I was an idiot–"

"A diddiotool."

"Yes, a diddiotool. Yes, I hurt you, and by God, I've regretted it every second since! But … please. I'm real. You are real. We're really together, and that is what I need. Reality. I need you, Emma."

She pressed her lips together and her heart beat so fast that it was almost painful.

"Do you know why I like to control stuff? Because I can. I'm really good at being the person who holds the reins, and really bad at being the woman who doesn't know what happens next. And being with you? Who can say if you're going to cherish me, act like a jealous jerk, or hop into bed with the next best bimbo?"

"I can't promise you that I will never act like a jealous jerk again," he said beseechingly. "Really, I simply can't guarantee you that – for God knows, I don't want to share – but I'm not going to hop into bed with anyone else. Why would I? You're damned creative. I really need nobody but you!"

Emma laughed, and felt Luke wipe more tears from her cheek, his gaze now so intense, it felt as if he wanted to burn his love into her. "You said you wanted to be my friend …"

"And you said men and women could never be friends!"

"And I still think that's true … and yet you are my best friend. Just … the best friend I want to sleep with. Always."

She laughed again and closed her eyes for a few moments. "What do you want to hear from me now, Luke? What do you expect me to say?"

"Well, if you told me you love me too, that would be a start …"

"That's not what I mean. I live in Germany. My flight is tomorrow. I have a job there. I have my friends there …"

He stared into her eyes, while his thumbs continued to slowly stroke her cheeks. Then he nodded. "Alright. Then I will move to Germany."

She stared at him, her mouth hanging open. "What?"

"You don't want a long-distance relationship, I don't want a long-distance relationship – so it's the only solution. I'm going to be … a sports reporter. Or simply your rich pimp, I don't care."

She swallowed.

Why was she still crying? The heroines in the romance novels she'd read didn't cry endlessly when the hero confessed his love. They had hot sex in the hallway. She wanted to have hot sex in the hallway, too!

"It would really be a shame if you moved to Germany though …" she murmured and let her hands wander up his chest.

"What?" He furrowed his brow, confused by her last statement.

"Well, considering that I lied to you about going home. I quit my job and am going to be self-employed. Right here in Philadelphia."

He looked at her, dumbfounded and incredulous. "You …"

"What, I think I'm allowed to test you!" she laughed. "You passed. We're going to cross out the ‘token.' There's one condition though."

"Anything."

He still had a lot to learn. You couldn't offer it all to a woman right away! "Please don't force me to come and watch every single game of yours!"

He chuckled and leaned his forehead against hers. "Okay."

"And sometimes I want to watch romantic comedies at night, instead of sports."

"That's okay, too."

"And … please don't fire your cleaning woman! That's the best thing that ever happened to me! Not having to clean."

He gave her a wide smile, but raised an eyebrow. "The best thing that ever happened to you?"

She smiled. "Well, your TV is really awesome as well. And the pool table."

"Emma …"

"Yeah?"

"You still haven't told me whether you love me."

She laughed and blinked away the last tears. "I will. But you're going to have to earn those words from me! Maybe I'll say them in a month or–"

"Shut up, Emma," he murmured and sealed her lips with a kiss.