Chapter 96 Can't Be Without Elsa Miller
Elsa glanced up at Luke.
She wasn't wearing any makeup, and her face still bore healing bruises. Her lips were chapped with a small crack, but her eyes were unusually bright.
'Battle-damaged beauty,' Luke thought, suddenly wanting to kiss her.
"When did you get here?" Elsa asked.
"A while ago." Luke followed his impulse and bent down to kiss her.
The autumn air was dry, and Elsa's lips felt rough against his, tickling him.
He meant to give her a quick kiss, but he couldn't stop.
Elsa, feeling dizzy from the kiss, instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck.
"Take a breath, baby." Seeing her face turn red, Luke chuckled. Why did he always have to remind her?
Not far away, the sound of glass shattering echoed. Luke turned to see Margaret standing at the office door, her eyes already red.
"Margaret, you haven't left yet?" Luke greeted awkwardly.
Margaret didn't say anything, just ran out crying.
"Your first love is heartbroken," Elsa said.
"Don't talk nonsense." Luke flicked her nose, not taking it seriously.
He thought it would blow over, but around 1 a.m., his phone rang.
Luke answered and quickly got up to change clothes, ready to leave.
Elsa, a light sleeper, woke up when he got up. She watched him get dressed without saying a word.
"I'll be back soon," Luke said, kissing her before rushing out.
Elsa hadn't heard the call, but her gut told her it had something to do with Margaret.
She sat up in bed, hugging the blanket, unable to fall back asleep.
The call was from Terry. When Luke arrived, Margaret was drunkenly standing on the rooftop of a tall building, with police and firefighters below setting up an air cushion.
"We can't persuade her, and we don't dare get close. See if you can get her to come down," Terry said, pulling Luke towards the elevator.
After reaching the top floor, they climbed a short flight of stairs to the rooftop. Luke walked ahead, with Terry keeping a small distance behind.
Margaret, in a thin dress, stood at the edge, blending into the night.
"Margaret," Luke called softly, afraid he would startle her.
She looked over and took a step towards him, then stumbled back.
Luke was startled.
"Margaret, don't step back. Come here." Luke gently beckoned her, his tone cautious.
"Luke?" Margaret asked uncertainly.
"It's me, Margaret. Come here," Luke said, inching closer.
"Luke, you don't want me anymore. I'm so pitiful because you don't want me anymore." Margaret looked at him, then suddenly squatted down, crying uncontrollably.
She was like a little girl who had lost her Barbie doll, waiting for someone to come and comfort her.
Luke remembered their childhood memories, and his heart ached.
As kids, he had often said he would marry her someday, and he had genuinely had feelings for her. He had never looked down on her for being divorced. If it weren't for Elsa, Margaret would be Mrs. Taylor now.
The thought made Luke shake his head painfully. How could he not want Elsa? He couldn't live without her.
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