Lisa sighed and peered up at me from beneath her brows. “Are you sure she’s the one you want?”
“There’s not a doubt in my mind.”
“How can you be sure? How can you be that sure? It’s only been five weeks!”
“I love her,” I said simply. “I do. I love her.”
My sister stared at me like she was seeing me for the first time. “You love her?”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,” I said, taking my sister’s hands. “And I’m pretty certain she loves me too.”
“Then she’d be here with you.”
“No, because she’s torn. Kayla never wanted to hurt you, Lisa. Do you know how much turmoil she must be in that she can’t make this right with you? How many times has she tried to call you?”
Lisa looked down at her feet. “Over sixty. And she showed up at me place.”
“She did?”
“I said some mean things.”
I sighed. “Nothing that can’t be forgiven, I’m sure. This is Kayla we’re talking about.”
“She probably hates me,” Lisa whispered. “I’d hate me.”
“Kayla doesn’t hate anyone. She wants her friend back.”
Lisa looked up at me and I wiped a tear from her cheek. “I want my friend back, too,” she whispered.
That was what I wanted to hear.
I smiled at my sister and kissed her forehead. “Then what do you say you and I make things right?”
“How?”
“Follow my lead, little sister.”
Chapter 38
Kayla
My fingers flew over the keyboard as I typed out yet another apology letter to Lisa. The words sorry and forgive were starting to look strange and I had to use spell check just to make sure that they were in fact spelled correctly. A quick glance at the time on my computer told me I’d been at this for two hours and hardly made any progress, so I slapped my laptop closed and slumped down on my sofa, pouting.
“She’s never going to forgive me,” I muttered to my empty apartment.
Nobody spoke back to me. Nobody offered any encouraging words. Nobody told me to stick to my guns. Nobody came and sat with me and told me not to waste any more energy on this.
Of course, the only person I wanted by my side telling me those things was Lukas. But I’d gone and botched that, too. I abandoned him hours after he had to go through a terrible night with his mother. Chances were he hated me too.
“You’ve successfully alienated yourself from both the Holts. Well done, Kayla.” I clapped for myself bitterly. It didn’t make me feel better.
Desperate to feel something other than regret and guilt, I got up and put the kettle on to make myself a cup of tea. I chose a ginger and honey tea because my stomach had been bothering me due to all the nerves. As the kettle boiled, I stood by the counter slouched over, the sash on my robe dangling precariously close to the floor.
I heaved a dramatic sigh and willed the kettle to boil faster.
It didn’t.
“Why hasn’t he come to see me?” I asked the tea kettle. That was a question that had been playing over and over in my mind.
Lukas hadn’t bothered to reach out. Even if I’d hurt him, part of me assumed he’d push back a little. It was in his nature. He’d done it at the beginning of our relationship. He wouldn’t take no for an answer. But this time? The time I desperately wanted and needed him to step up and push me a little, he was nowhere to be seen.
That hurt.
I gave my head a shake. Nonsense.
Was I seriously upset with him for respecting my wishes? I’d told him we shouldn’t see each other for a while. So naturally, he wasn’t seeing me. He was doing what I asked. He was following through.
And clearly, it wasn’t what I’d actually wanted.
What I wanted was my best friend back. And my man.
Why couldn’t we all just coexist? Why did Lisa have to care? Why did she have to paint me with the brush that I was the same as all the gold diggers who’d pursued her brother before? Why did she have to make me feel like a movie villain for falling in love with her brother?
“All that’s missing is superpowers and a cool costume,” I mumbled.
The kettle finally started to whistle and I poured hot water into my teapot. The smells of honey and ginger wafted up on the steam until I put the lid on and set the timer on the stove for four minutes.
It was after the first minute had passed that there was a knock on my door.
I frowned and looked over my shoulder. Who would be dropping by my place? I didn’t get visitors. Not ever. Probably a neighbor looking for sugar or salt. Or eggs.
I considered ignoring them, but it wasn’t in my nature. With a tired sigh, I shuffled barefoot across the kitchen floor to my front door. I looked a mess and whoever was knocking was going to regret what they were about to see. My hair hadn’t been washed in approximately three days and had existed in the same messy bun on top of my head for that entire duration. It was oily, and the bun had come loose, so it had settled a little off center. My skin was oily and my robe was stained from food and drinks I’d managed to eat over the last four days.
I mustered up the energy to open the door.
And there he was.
“Lukas?” I breathed.
He smiled. He looked good as always. He was wearing a pair of dark jeans and black boots. He had a gray hoodie under a black leather jacket, and the hood and shoulders of his jacket were speckled in raindrops. He held a bouquet of red roses in his hand. The petals glistened with tiny drops of water.
“I brought these for you,” he said, holding out the roses.
I blinked at the bouquet and looked up at him. “How did
