He wasn’t quite sure what Marguerite meant by that.
“I’m asking you—what do you think of her?” Marguerite’s question was serious, her gaze intent.
But Luke only gave a cold, dismissive laugh. “Why should I care what she’s like? It’s got nothing to do with me.”
Laura, who had just composed herself in the bathroom, caught those words as she came out. She curled her lips into a faint, self-mocking smile.
Of course. He was never interested in her; he never even really saw her.
“Luke, Laura’s a great girl. You’re both single, and honestly, I think you’d make a good match,” Marguerite pressed on. “Sure, there’s a bit of a gap between your backgrounds, but that shouldn’t matter to you. You’ve never cared about that sort of thing. Give her a chance—she really is wonderful.”
“Look, you’re both close friends of mine. That’s the only reason I’m even bringing this up. Trust me, I wouldn’t introduce anyone to Laura if I didn’t think highly of you.”
Marguerite hadn’t noticed Laura lingering nearby, listening to every word. Deliberately, Laura slowed her steps, even though she already knew what Luke’s answer would be. Still, she couldn’t help but want to hear it from him—even if it was the last thing she wanted to hear.
“Marguerite, you’ve had a bit too much to drink tonight, haven’t you?” Luke shot back, his tone almost teasing. “You’re talking nonsense. Besides, I’m already in love with someone. I can’t pay attention to anyone else. You know how loyal I am when it comes to this sort of thing.”
In love with someone?
“Fine, fine, I’ll drop it,” Marguerite said with a shrug. “But if you’ve liked someone for so long and nothing’s come of it, maybe it’s time to let go. There are plenty of amazing women out there, and the one you’re hung up on might not even be right for you.”
“Alright, Marguerite, I don’t need a lecture on relationships from you,” Luke shot back, rolling his eyes. “If you were such an expert, you wouldn’t have wasted years on that loser ex of yours.”
Luke deliberately put on an infuriating grin, trying to lighten the mood before things got too awkward between them. He really didn’t know how else to face her.
“Luke, are you looking to get smacked?” Marguerite said, exasperated. “You really need to learn when to keep your mouth shut—or don’t blame me if I lose my temper with you!”
She glared at him, half tempted to actually slap some sense into him. This man, she thought, really didn’t have a kind bone in his body—and he never missed a chance for a sharp retort.

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