Outrageously in Love by Jen Morris
19
Iwander the abandoned subway platform, straining my ears for the sound of approaching trains that I know will never come. It’s eerily quiet down here.
Luke strolls past, hands tucked into the pockets of his hooded sweater, head cocked to read the plaques dotted along the platform. Up ahead, Henry ducks into an old subway car.
After we finished our time on the trapeze—I went three more times, each one a little easier than the last—we changed and headed out. When Luke suggested we come to the New York Transit Museum in Brooklyn I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I’ve got to hand it to him; this place is awesome.
Entering the museum was like entering any other subway station: down the steps with the green railing, all the way underground to a disused subway platform, lined on either side by old trains as far as you can see. The difference here is that there isn’t the screech of trains coming and going, the press of the crowd to get on board, the feeling that I could be mugged or pushed onto the tracks at any second. I’m surprised that—as much as I hate the subway in Manhattan—I’m captivated here, walking through these old carriages, thinking of all the people who rode them and what their lives might have been like.
I lean closer to read a plaque that dates the carriage in front of me back to 1907 and utter a reverent “Wow.”
Luke stands beside me, reading the information he’s probably read a hundred times before. He told me he comes here all the time, and I couldn’t help but find that nerdy little fact adorable—even though I know I shouldn’t.
“Isn’t it awesome?” he says.
I nod, amazed at how old the carriage before me is. People have been riding these trains since the early twentieth century and here I am, a modern woman, scared of the subway. I shrink with shame.
Luke angles his body towards me. “What is it?”
I blush and smooth my hands over my dress. How can he tell something is up?
“You okay?”
I meet his gentle gaze. “When we went to the board game cafe yesterday, and when we came over to Brooklyn today, why did we take a cab and not the subway?”
He shrugs. “I thought you’d be more comfortable. Alex mentioned something about you not liking the subway. I was surprised by that at first—I mean, you go skydiving and do all these wild things.” He shakes his head, smiling to himself.
An uneasy laugh ripples out of me as I look across the platform of the museum. No wonder he was confused. Who’s afraid of the subway but happily jumps from an airplane?
Luke leads us off the platform into the empty subway carriage, and I glance around in wonder. Unlike the subway cars today, we have to step onto the end to enter. The body of the car is made of wood—no steel or plastic—and the interior is painted a dark red, with windows lining each side and leather handles hanging down along the center. Seats line the walls like the modern cars of today, but many of them face forward and back, like a bus. They’re covered with a woven, wicker material, and the whole thing makes me feel like I’ve stepped back in time.
I check ahead for Henry, then spot him out on the platform further back. As I wander down the middle of the car, I wonder what the people on here were doing, where they were going, a hundred years ago.
“See?” Luke says behind me with a smile in his voice. “What is there to be scared of?”
I sit on one of the seats, thinking of the trapeze I just swung on, and wonder how to explain it to him. “I think, on the actual subway, I don’t like all the people. I guess it’s the same reason I don’t want to go to the major tourist places. I get anxious around the crowds. People are unpredictable, and sometimes I don’t feel safe—” I cut myself off with a grimace.
I hate talking about this stuff. It feels like a weakness of mine, like some deeply flawed part of who I am, despite the fact that multiple therapists have told me not to think of it that way. But I’ve been anxious as long as I can remember, and very few people have been understanding about it. There were some girls at high school who were especially nasty to me during those times I couldn’t quite keep it together—one particular panic attack comes to mind. Boyfriends and even friends in the past have been exasperated by it. Steph spends a lot of time trying to push me out of my comfort zone, but it’s because she worries I’m missing out on things. She doesn’t know how bad it was for me at high school, and I prefer it that way. Because if she did know about that part of my life, she might treat me differently for it.
“I know it’s silly,” I mumble.
“It’s not.” Luke lowers himself onto the seat beside me. “We all have our thing.”
A comforting kind of warmth flows through me at his words. He’s not judging me and that’s… really nice.
His knee nudges mine. “Remember me on the plane? I was terrified.”
Our eyes lock and my heart bumps against my breastbone as I think of the way I took his hand to comfort him, the way I kissed him and made him forget everything. “I remember,” I murmur.
Henry passes outside, waving at us through the window as if we were commuters. Luke and I wave back, watching as he steps onto the next carriage.
“You’re so good with him,” I say, smiling. Then before I can think better of it, I ask, “Do you want kids of your own?”
Luke’s jaw tightens and he sits silent for a moment. “Yes. It’s one of the reasons…” he trails off and I fill in the blanks.
“She didn’t want kids?”
“No.” He lets out a long, weary breath. “It’s not entirely Dena’s fault. I thought I didn’t want kids either. For years I was focused on my career, and it felt like a family would just get in the way of that.” He gives a sad shake of his head. “But as I watched Mike raise Henry, and I got to spend time being Uncle Luke… I love it. I realized I do want kids of my own, but she wasn’t changing her mind. It was just one of many problems between us, but it was the one I couldn’t let go of. I couldn’t give that up for her, and I didn’t want to resent her for it later.”
“That sounds tough.” I can’t imagine being in that position. I’ve always known I want kids one day, when I meet the right guy. My mind unhelpfully points out what a great dad Luke would be, but I tell it to shut up and focus on the conversation. “It must have been hard to go through your marriage ending without your family’s support. I’m sure if you’d told Michael, he would have understood.”
“Yeah, he would have. Probably better than most. That’s the problem.”
“What do you mean?”
Luke sighs. “Mike’s been through a lot over the past few years. His divorce completely wrecked him, and when Mel dragged him through court to fight for custody of Henry, he became a shell of a man. I honestly thought he’d never be happy again.”
I nod. I remember Alex saying something about him being in a bad place when they met.
“But now he is,” Luke continues. “And after everything he’s been through, he deserves to enjoy it without worrying about me and my shit, without… I don’t know, feeling guilty, because my marriage is over when he’s the happiest I’ve ever seen him.” He picks at a loose piece of wicker on the seat between us. “I know it sounds stupid, but I didn’t want to do anything to take away from that.”
There’s a pang in my chest at how selfless that is. “It doesn’t sound stupid,” I murmur. “It sounds like you just want him to be happy. But… you also deserve to be happy.” I reach out and place my hand over his, squeezing. As soon as I feel the warmth of his skin under my palm, I realize touching him was a big mistake.
Suddenly, it’s too quiet down here in this old subway car, without the sound of trains or commuters. There doesn’t even seem to be anyone else in this part of the museum. I don’t know where Henry has gone. Silence stretches between us and my breathing goes shallow, like I can’t suck in enough air. I can feel the weight of Luke’s gaze on me, and when I bring myself to look at him, my pulse skips at the question in his espresso-brown eyes. The corner of his mouth lifts in a tentative smile, and for the first time I notice a small dimple in his right cheek underneath his scruff. I move my gaze over his face, from the chicken pox scar under his left eye, to the bristles along his jaw, until they land on his full lips.
God, he is so unbelievably gorgeous. It takes all my strength to pull my hand away again.
“Harriet…” His voice has a gravelly burr to it that makes my thighs quiver. He inhales to say more when Henry appears in the carriage in a frenzy of excitement.
“Did you guys see the big engine down the end?”
Luke drags his gaze from me to smile at his nephew. “Not yet, buddy. Let’s go.”
Henry dashes off again and Luke stands, reaching for my hand and pulling me up. I try not to notice the way he twines his fingers with mine as we head out of the carriage, the way he doesn’t let go until we are back on the subway platform.
* * *
An hour later,we head out and grab a late lunch, strolling through Brooklyn Heights as we eat. Luke spends the time telling me about the area and Henry shows me some of the places he knows. I’m pleased to have him there as a buffer between Luke and me. Otherwise, who knows what I’d do.
I don’t think my time in the shower last night worked quite as well as I thought it did because, fuck, the force is strong in this one. Every time I look at Luke I’m sure he can tell exactly how I feel. He’s feeling the same things, too—it’s written all over his face. And even though I know that nothing should happen between us, I’m also aware that my self-control is not bulletproof. If Luke were to straight-up tell me he wants me, would I be able to say no?
I don’t want to find out.
After walking for some time, we arrive at the foot of the Brooklyn Bridge and Luke turns to me with a grin. “You okay to walk across here?”
I hesitate, glancing at the crowd.
“I know it’s a little touristy,” he says. “But it’s worth it. The views are amazing, especially on a day like today.”
We both look up at the azure sky, not a single cloud in sight. It is a beautiful day and I don’t want to miss seeing the city from the bridge. Besides, after the trapeze this morning, this doesn’t seem so bad.
“Okay.”
He leads the way and we start to climb, Henry racing ahead. The wooden walkway takes us up higher than the traffic, with a white line dividing the narrow space. We have to keep to the left, because cyclists come tearing down the right, and the first time it happens I get a fright and lurch into Luke’s side. He chuckles and switches so he’s walking on the outside of me, and I pretend I don’t find that incredibly sweet. I also pretend I don’t want his hoodie, which he offers when he sees me shivering in the wind. I know if I snuggle into the warmth and smell of his sweater, it will be all downhill from there. And if I see those forearms of his again? Forget it. I’ll be a goner.
He shares things about the bridge as we walk, like when it was built and how long it took and how many people died in the process. I find the last bit a little morbid and when he catches my expression, he apologizes.
But I have to laugh, because he’s trying to make this good for me. I realize again how grateful I am that he’s making such an effort, because I’m certain I wouldn’t have come here on my own.
We slow our walking as we arrive at the first of the two big towers of the bridge. It’s such an iconic sight—the pointed Gothic stone arches and suspension cables stretching out to the deck below like a giant man-made spiderweb.
“Thanks for taking the time to show me this stuff,” I say to Luke as we stop to read a brass plaque set into the stone.
“You’re welcome.”
We wander over to the railing and I glance at him. “To be honest, I was nervous when Alex said you were going to take me sightseeing, but it’s been great.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed the museum, and the trapeze was really fun. Actually, this week has been the most fun I’ve had in ages.”
“Yeah.” I smile to myself. “Me too.”
I lean against the railing and look out at the glistening water, watching a water taxi and mulling over Luke’s words. Despite our circumstances, this has been one of the best weeks I’ve had in a long time. In fact, I can’t remember a time when I’ve done so many fun—and challenging—things.
It’s not just getting out of my comfort zone. It’s Luke. When I’m around him, I feel different. I connect to an inner sense of self I didn’t know existed. He makes me feel alive, and sexy, and—hell—turned on, all the time. Ever since we had sex on the plane, he’s awoken some dormant part of me and I want to explore that more. Because if I feel like that after ten minutes alone with him in an airplane bathroom, after a few stolen moments between wedding tasks and sightseeing, imagine how it could be if we were actually… together.
God. I’m having some dangerous thoughts today.
I can feel the heat of Luke beside me, and when I turn to look at him, his eyes are roaming my face. “I’m not imagining this, am I? This thing between us?”
My heart kicks and I swallow hard. “No. You’re not.”
“And we…” He glances along the bridge to check Henry is out of earshot. “We shouldn’t act on it, right?”
I give a humorless laugh. “Are you asking me or telling me?”
“I—” He wipes a hand down his face, looking pained. “Ugh, I don’t know.”
I study the cars as they pass under the metal beams below us, and draw on my last reserves of self-restraint. “No, we shouldn’t act on it. You’re still married, and even if you weren’t, you want Alex and Michael to think you’re married, so…” I trail off, shrugging.
Luke nods, his brow pulling low. “Yeah. I can’t ruin their wedding with my drama.”
“Anyway,” I say, laughing to try and lighten the mood. “It’s weird either way, right? Your brother is marrying my sister and we’re essentially in-laws in a week and a half. We’ll be like family.”
“I guess that is a little weird.” His mouth twists in a dirty smile. “Mike would not be happy if he knew the things I’ve imagined doing to his wife’s little sister.”
He—what?
Heat explodes in my core and I tighten my hands around the railing. There’s dynamite in Luke’s eyes as they sink down the length of my body then slowly climb back to my face. I want so badly to ask him what he’s imagined, but somehow, I stop myself. Knowing the details of that would make this impossible.
Instead, I take a fortifying breath and do my best to send him a disapproving look. “You probably shouldn’t say stuff like that.”
“Yeah.” He chuckles softly. “Sorry. I’ll try to behave myself.” His forehead wrinkles with a frown and he reaches into his pocket, pulling out his phone. “Shit, I need to take this. Is that okay?”
I wave a hand, desperate for some space from him. “Go for it.”
He steps away to take the call, and I stare out over the water, replaying his words: I’ll try to behave myself. That’s good, I suppose, though I’m not entirely sure I believe him. And worse, I don’t want him to. It will take a million shower sessions with John Stamos to get this out of my system, and maybe not even then. How are we going to make this situation work with the attraction between us? We still have to finalize all the wedding tasks and my self-control is running out fast.
Luke finishes his call and appears back beside me, leaning down onto his elbows on the railing. His whole face is lit up as he gazes over the water, his cheeks rounded into a grin. I know I should look away—should walk away—but I can’t. There’s something so magnetic about his smile, his energy. And when he turns to me and his smile tugs wider, my insides melt.
“You seem happy,” I say.
“Yeah. I just got some great news.”
I tilt my body towards him, relieved the intensity from before has passed and we’ve returned to the usual ease between us. “What is it?”
He goes to speak again, then spots Henry walking our way. Grinning, he gestures down the bridge. “I’ll tell you later. Come on.”