CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

S ebastian

The journalists rush for the press room, elbowing for the best seats, hungry for quotes after Luke's stunning performance. I slip into a back row, pulse thundering. I shouldn't be here. But I had to see him, one more time before tomorrow night when he chooses someone else. I want every second I can have with him, even if Clark would be furious if he knew I was here.

A few journalists look at me curiously, but then the door opens, and the Blizzards’ head coach enters, followed by Evan and Luke.

I’m scared to meet his eyes. I’m at his workplace.

But when I finally look at his eyes, and they flare, I think maybe everything is as it should be after all. I don’t see repulsion or disgust or regret. I see...longing.

He only moves his gaze away after Evan nudges him.

Apparently, someone has asked a question. I hear his tenor voice talk about hockey things I only somewhat understand. Finally, someone asks a question I do understand.

“Mr. Hawthorne, what caused your shift in demeanor during the game?”

Luke hesitates, clutching his glass of water. “I found some extra motivation in the crowd.”

“Have you decided on who you are going to pick for Seeking Mr. Right ?” another journalist shouts.

“That is a careful secret. But I’m hopeful about it.”

My heart thunders. Finally, the room empties of people. Luke lingers in front, and Evan says goodbye to him, shooting me a curious look. I pretend to linger.

“Hello...” Luke says, his eyes gleaming.

“H-hi.”

He ducks his head out the corridor. “Everyone is gone.” He turns to me, boyish grin in place. “Want to go back to my place?”

I stiffen, and his shoulders slump.

“Oh,” he says, and I hate the melancholic note of the sound. “I guess that’s not why you’re visiting.”

“I want to,” I say quickly. “I-I missed you a lot.”

“Oh yeah?”

“But they would be suspicious if I’m not there tonight, after what...”

He nods, then clutches my hands with his. “Just as long as you still like me. I’m so sorry about what happened.”

“I couldn’t possibly not like you,” I say, my voice solemn.

“Good.”

I hesitate. I need to tell him more. “I’m serious. Like... Really serious.”

“I hurt you professionally.”

“Nonsense. I did that.” I scrunch my lips. “I’m sorry I didn’t contact you at once. I thought about you. I know that’s not the same, but...”

He wraps me in his strong arms. “It’s all good, Sebastian. You were overwhelmed. Next time you come to me, right?”

I nod, even though I know we don’t have the time that allows for next times.

He smiles, and his eyes shimmer. “Would you like a thorough tour of the arena, Mr. Archer?”

“But—” I furrow my brow. I don’t want to go on a tour. I want to be in a quiet room with Luke.

Luke’s lips twitch, like he can hear all the things I’m thinking.

“I promise you’ll enjoy it.”

“Well, in that case...”

Luke takes my hand and leads me to the door. Then he drops my hand. “One day, I don’t want to let go of your hand.”

My hand tingles, even though we’re not touching.

I half-expect him to show me back to the massage room, but instead he leads me toward the ice. Cleaners descend upon it, carrying mops and buckets and large trash bags.

“It’s a bit crowded.”

“Yeah. It takes lots of people to make everything nice.”

“You did great.”

He shrugs, but his eyes glow, and I love the proud flush that curls up from the collar of his super sexy suit.

He still doesn’t take my hand, but he nudges my shoulder, and grins, and my heart swells.

And I’m not going to deny what it is.

I’m not going to say I can’t be feeling that.

Because I am.

I totally am.

I am completely and utterly in love with Luke.

Even though tomorrow night he’s going to choose a woman to spend his life with, and the media will follow his every move. Even though soon I’m going to have to sneak back into my room and say I went on a super long walk or something to cool down from my anger.

I love him.

I want what’s best for him.

His eyes soften. “Let’s go.”

I follow him up the stairs, then we stop in front of a door that says VIP Only.

Luke enters a code, then the door swings open.

Soft leather seats surround us. A lush Christmas tree sits in one section of the room, beside a long bar. My gaze darts to the ice. The view is amazing, and for a moment, I stare. Then Luke wraps his arms around me and nestles his chin against my cheek.

“I missed you.” His tenor voice rumbles in my ear, and he hits a button, and blinds groan downwards.

“This is probably not proper,” I say.

“Absolutely not,” he agrees.

“How are you able to come here?”

“Alternate captains have the codes to everywhere.”

“Because you’re so responsible.”

“Utterly.” Then Luke turns me around and stares into my eyes, and my world is just him. He cups my cheek.

“There’s something you need to know,” he says, and I stiffen, because that phrase could be followed by anything.

Like maybe I need to know I shouldn’t show up at his workplace.

Or maybe I need to know I shouldn’t sit with the media reporting on him, even though I have a press pass, because that might inspire them to write about us or something.

Or maybe I need to know something else. Like...

“You’re thinking too hard,” he whispers. He takes my hands in his, and nervousness moves over his face.

“I’m sort of glad you ran away,” he admits, and I stiffen. “Fuck. I’m not saying this right.”

I’m not sure if there’s a way he can end that sentence that does make things right, but I gaze at him.

He is still holding onto my hands.

He doesn’t seem angry I came.

I try to remind myself of those things.

“Because it made me realize I don’t want any world without you,” he says finally.

Oh.

A smile stretches my lips upward, and my heart swells, growing larger in his presence.

But just as suddenly I remember that such a world is impossible.

“Tomorrow is Christmas Eve.”

“Yeah.”

I don’t say he is going to have to make his selection then, but the air feels heavier.

Luke stares into my eyes, then kisses me. His lips are wet and cold and cucumber-flavored, like the iced water on the table in the interview room. “I’m sorry about Bryce.”

I close my eyes. “I don’t want to talk about him.”

“Do you think we could still...” He hesitates, more nervous than I’m accustomed to. “Do you think you could overlook him, and still, you know...”

I grin. “He doesn’t matter, Luke. You do. I don’t care who your family is. I mean, I guess sort of. But my family isn’t getting any awards, and that would be a shitty reason to not see you.”

“I’ll keep him in line,” Luke says. “I promise. I want to keep you in my life. I don’t want you to run away. And I don’t want to cause anything that will make you run away.”

“It’s a nice dream,” I agree, nestled against his suit.

“It won’t be a dream,” he says, then he leads me to one of the soft buttery couches in the VIP room. “Not just a dream. I promise. I don’t want to risk your position, but I’ll wait for you, I swear. Whenever you’re ready for me.”

I draw my head back. “Wait for me?”

“Your hosting job.”

“Oh. That.” I sigh.

“What is it, Sebastian?”

I look down. “It’s not important.”

Shame bubbles through me, and I close my eyes. I don’t want to think about my workplace. I don’t want to spend however little time we have complaining about my boss and my colleagues.

“Tell me, Sebastian.” Luke sits on the couch and pulls me onto his lap. He starts to lay kisses on my neck. “Tell me.”

“Or we can make out?” I ask hopefully.

He snorts. “Nope. Not happening.”

He stops kissing me.

“You’re serious,” I say.

“Uh-huh.” He chuckles.

“It’s not important,” I say.

“But...?”

“But I’m pretty sure tomorrow night will be my last episode as the host.”

“They can’t do that!”

“I’m not the first host on the program.”

“Well,” Luke muses, “I’m certainly very attached to a certain host.”

I elbow him, and he kisses me. He pulls away. “Seriously, that’s horrible. Super horrible.”

“It’s okay. I don’t think they’re who I thought they were. I’m fairly confident Ella knew you didn’t apply.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” Luke says, stroking my cheeks. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you. I would do it all differently if I could.”

“I know.” I pull his arms around me.

“Just kiss me,” I say.

“Bossy baby.”

“Uh-huh.”

His eyes dance. “I have something else I want to tell you.”

I groan. “No more talking.”

“I think you’ll like this,” he says. “Tell me if you don’t.”

“Okay. What is it?” I cross my arms.

“I love you,” he says, and now my heart is super swelling.

Did I hear that correctly? “Wait.... You mean...?”

“Sorry,” he says, kissing the corner of my lips. “We have to go back to kissing. I promised you.”

I squirm from his soft, super succulent lips and very gifted and not soft at all tongue. “Wait...Did you...?”

He pauses kissing me. Heat spreads over my cheeks. Maybe I misheard. I probably misheard. Because Luke couldn’t love me. Not really. No. Because no one knows me better than Luke. No one knows all the parts of me as well as he does.

“Never mind,” I mumble and lean back toward him.

I want his lips on mine again and I want to forget whatever crazy thing I imagined. Because that couldn’t be real. He couldn’t actually...

“I love you,” Luke says again, and my swirling emotions calm.

I stare at him.

He stares at me.

“Like...”

“Like completely and utterly. Like people love each other in movies and songs.”

“Oh.” I smile.

“But I’m—”

“You’re perfect,” he says.

“I love you too,” I say, the words tumbling out.

“How convenient,” he says, and I laugh because I’m happy, but also because that’s the only convenient thing about us.

Then he kisses me some more and does a whole lot of other interesting things to me on the couch as my heart skips contentedly, and I try to forget about all the reasons I should not be in his arms.