A Story Like Ours

by Robin Huber

  I get out of my car and give him a small wave, hoping he’ll roll his window back up, but he just nods and watches me walk to the front door. I hold my breath and press my finger to the doorbell, but the door swings open as I push it.

  Janice peers over my shoulder at Miles and asks, “Is that your security detail?”

  I glance over my shoulder and watch him disappear behind his tinted window. “No. He’s just a friend.”

  “I know who he is, dear.” She presses her painted lips together into a tight smile. “I know everyone in this town.”

  I bob my head and smile uncomfortably over the uneasy feeling she stirs inside me. I knew this was inevitable and that it would be difficult, but I didn’t know I would suddenly feel like the old me—the person I was with Drew—who I realize now was far less tenacious. Be brave. I clear my throat and ask, “May I please come in?”

  “May I?” she repeats, raising her thinly plucked eyebrows. “So proper. And here I thought all the manners we taught you had worn off already.”

  I pry my tongue off the roof of my dry mouth, but before I can say anything, she leans in and adds, “Maybe it was just those tacky pictures making me think that. I’m sure you can imagine Drew’s reaction when he saw them.”

  “No, actually, I can’t,” I manage to say over my pounding heart. It takes everything in me not to ask if she tipped someone off that I was there. She wouldn’t.

  “You really had us fooled, didn’t you?” She splays her fingers over her chest and puckers her lips. “I suppose it’s a blessing what happened, really. You would have tarnished the Christiansen name eventually. One can only hide their true colors for so long.”

  I swallow the hurt she inflicts, briefly wondering if mothers normally talk to their daughters like this—maybe she didn’t care about me as much as I thought she did. I fight the tears that prick in my eyes and stand up straight. “May I come in now? Please.”

  Janice steps aside and lets me in, and the familiar smell of the house comforts me in a way that makes my chest ache.

  “Is Drew here?”

  “No, darling, he’s out of the country.”

  “Out of the country? Where did he go?”

  “He went to Europe. He was in Barcelona yesterday, but he’s probably in Paris by now.”

  I release a quiet breath that somehow leaves my chest painfully tight. “He’s on our honeymoon,” I say quietly to myself.

  “It was nonrefundable. It was transferrable, however, so he moved the dates up to get away for a little while.”

  “He went alone?” The thought saddens me.

  “Don’t be silly. He has several friends abroad.”

  “Oh…of course.”

  “So, what exactly is it that you need, dear?”

  “I, um…” I close my eyes and shake off thoughts of Drew country hopping in Europe without me. “I just need to get the rest of my things. It shouldn’t take long.”

  “Of course. Follow me.” She leads me to the garage and points to two plastic bins labeled Lucy in black marker.

  “He packed my things?”

  “I did, actually. At Drew’s request. He said it was too painful for him. You understand.”

  I swallow the lump in my throat. “Yes.”

  “Rest assured,” she points to the bins, “everything that belonged to you in this house is right there.” She smooths her shiny silver hair back and spins around. “Speaking of things you don’t own…”

  I pick my heart up off the cold garage floor and follow her back inside, wondering what dagger she’s going to throw next.

  She grabs a manila envelope off the kitchen counter and hands it to me. “Drew wanted you to have this. Though, I can’t imagine why.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s the deed to the art studio.”

  “What?” I ask, shocked and a little confused. “Why?”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  “No.” I hand it back to her. “I need to talk to him.” I pull my phone out of my bag, but Janice wraps her long skinny fingers around my arm and lowers it.

  “No,” she says firmly, placing the envelope back in my hand. “Giving you the studio was his way of letting go. Now let him do that.”

  “But I can’t—”

  “Let. Him,” she says again.

  I swallow hard and blink back tears that fill me eyes, but one escapes and rolls down my cheek. “I can’t. I’m sorry, but I can’t take it.”

  “Yes you can.”

  “No I can’t. It’s not right. I won’t.”

  “Lucy Marie Bennett, you listen to me, because I’m only going to say this once.” She loosens her grip on my arm and the armor falls off her shoulders. “You are one of the most talented artists I’ve ever had the pleasure to know. You have a gift. Don’t let my feelings, or anyone else’s, get in the way of the success you deserve. Take the studio.” She closes her eyes and lets out a sorrowful sigh that resonates through me and tugs hard at my heart. “Please. Do it for me. And do something great with it.”

  I press my lips together over the emotions that are sloshing around inside me. “I’m so sorry, Janice. I never meant for any of this to happen.”

  She rubs her fingers over her sparkly diamond earring and leans against the kitchen counter. “I know. We never intend to hurt the people who love us.”

  I smile weakly over the tears that keep coming. “I’ll never forget everything you’ve done for me. And if you never forgive me, I understand. But…” I shrug and wipe my eyes. “I’ll always be grateful for you. You made me feel like a part of your family and I’ll never forget that.”

  She smiles softly and sighs. “I really wanted you to be a part of it.”

  “I know.” I put my hand over hers. “Drew is really lucky to have you.”

  “Oh, pfff…I don’t think he would say so.”

  “He is.” I give her a sincere look. “Take it from someone who didn’t have a mother growing up. He hit the jackpot with you.”

  She smiles over the sadness in her eyes. “Thank you.”

  I reach into my purse and pull out my key and garage door opener, placing them on the kitchen counter. “I suppose it will be a little while before I see Drew again. Will you make sure he knows I left these here?”

  “I’ll make sure he gets them.”

  “And would you please tell him to call me when he gets back?”

  “I’ll tell him.”

  “Okay. Well, I should probably get going. I’ll just go get my things from the garage.”

  “Wait.” She pulls me into a quick hug, wrapping her long, skinny arms around me. “Take care, Lucy.”

  “You too, Janice.”

  * * *

  “Lucy,” someone calls across the parking garage while Miles and I are unloading my belongings from his trunk. I look over my shoulder and see a bouncing brunette walking over to us with a glossy smile on her face. “Lucy, hey!”

  “Hi, Molly.”

  “Do you guys need some help?”

  “We got it,” Miles says shortly.

  “Thanks, I think we’ve got it,” I say cordially. “But maybe you could get the elevator for us?”

  She smiles and bobs her head. “Absolutely.”

  I text Sam to let him know we’re back, and then I pick up one of the heavy bins and follow Miles over to the elevator.

  “So does this mean what I think it means?” she asks with curious eyes.

  “It means you need to mind your own business,” Miles says to her, and I shoot him an exasperated look.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

  “You don’t have to apologize, Molly.” I cut my eyes at Miles. “Yes, it does. But please don’t say anything to anyone, for now.”

  She presses her lips together and winks at me. “My lips are sealed.”

  I give her a tentative smile as we wait for the elevator doors to open, and when they finally do, we step inside. Molly presses the button for the first floor and we begin o
ur slow ascent to the main level of the parking garage. When the doors eventually open again, I’m surprised to see Sam and Tristan waiting on the other side of them.

  “Hey,” Molly and I both say to Sam at the same time.

  He looks at Molly and then he looks at me. “Hey,” he says, reaching for the bin in my hands.

  “You didn’t have to come down here,” I say to him, but he ignores me and proceeds to carry my things to the building.

  “Is this everything?” he asks.

  “Yep.”

  He glances over his shoulder at me and gives me a small satisfied smile.

  “Let me get that for you, Sam,” Terrance says when we walk into the lobby.

  Sam smirks. “Thanks, but I think I can handle it.”

  “Oh, I know you can, champ.” He walks beside Miles. “How about you, Miles? You need any help?”

  “I might be a little thick around the middle, but I can carry a plastic storage bin, okay?”

  Terrance laughs and shakes his head. “I don’t know, I see you struggling.”

  “Get outta here,” Miles says, and Sam and Tristan laugh.

  “I’m Tristan, by the way,” he says to Molly, flashing a big, bright smile at her.

  “I’m Molly.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Molly.”

  Miles turns around and looks at them over the bin in his hands. “Molly and Sam used to screw.”

  “Miles!” I shout at him and he walks backward into Sam, who has stopped in front of the bank of shiny stainless steel elevators.

  “Just saying.” He shrugs.

  “Say less.”

  He smiles and turns back around to stand beside Sam.

  “Real classy,” Sam says to him.

  “Hey, Miles, why don’t you let me take that from you,” Tristan says, reaching for the bin in his hands.

  “Nah, I got it.”

  “How about you let Tristan take that from you,” Sam says.

  Miles looks at Tris and hands it over. “I got shit to do anyway.” He shoves his empty hands into his pockets and begins to make his way back across the lobby.

  “Miles,” I call, and he spins around. “Thanks for going with me.”

  His face softens and he gives me a small smile. “Anytime, sweetheart.”

  We take the elevator up to Sam’s apartment, stopping on the sixteenth floor to let Molly out.

  “I’ll see you guys later,” she says to us. “It was nice meeting you, Tristan.” She smiles softly at him.

  “I’ll see you around.” He winks at her over the bin in his hands before the doors close.

  When we get to Sam’s apartment, Tristan deposits my bin in the foyer and picks up his gym bag. “I’ve got to go. But we’ll start the same time tomorrow. Six thirty.”

  Sam stacks the bins together. “Yeah, okay.”

  “You”—Tristan points at me—“make sure he gets up on time.”

  “All right. I will.”

  Tristan gives me a wide smile, coaxing an unabashed smile back from me. He winks and turns around for the door. “See you tomorrow.”

  “Bye, Tristan.”

  Sam closes the door behind him and narrows his eyes at me. “What was that?”

  “What was what?”

  He shakes his head and smirks. “You got all girly just now.”

  “No I didn’t.”

  “Yes you did.”

  I step around him and pick up one of the bins. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You fell for the old Tristan Kelley charm.”

  I carry the bin to the bedroom and put it down on the floor. “Well, even if I did, so what?” I turn around and look at him. “He’s got nothing on the spell you’ve cast over me.”

  He reaches for my hand and pulls me close to him. “Is that so?”

  I smile and gaze into his watercolor eyes, the brown bleeding into the blue, and willingly succumb to the power they have over me. “Yes.” I drop my eyes to his mouth, which yields its own kind of control over me.

  “I need a shower,” he says, releasing me with a knowing grin. “I’ve been training all morning.”

  “Okay.” I watch him discard his sweaty shirt and shorts.

  He looks at me before he rounds the corner to the bathroom. “You coming or what?”

  I bite my smiling lip and begin stripping off my clothes, even though I already showered earlier. I take off my jewelry and pull my hair up, and walk into the bathroom, which is already starting to fill with steam.

  When I step around the glass wall that encloses half of the shower, I pause to drink him in. His elbows are pointed up to the ceiling as he washes his hair, and lather is dripping down his chest and stomach, following the lines of the V between his hips. He rinses the shampoo from his hair and reaches for the soap.

  “You didn’t waste any time, did you?” I ask, stepping into the shower with him.

  “Just wanted to get it out of the way.”

  I laugh and walk under the water, taking the soap from him. “Mind if I help?” I rub the soap between my hands until it lathers and then I rub it over his painted chest and shoulders, kissing his skin where the water rinses it clean. I walk around him and wash his back, taking my time massaging his thick muscles. I rub his round bottom and he groans quietly, sparking a fire that slowly sears across my skin.

  He turns around and pulls me against him, pressing our wet bodies together, and his mouth consumes mine. I wind my fingers in his wet hair, and he tugs my bottom lip between his teeth before picking me up and pressing me against the shower wall. He holds me there while I wrap my arms and legs around him and then he reaches between us and draws his hips back, guiding himself into me with a husky groan.

  I exhale a satiated breath as he fills me up and satisfies a place deep inside me. Then he pulls his hips back and pushes into me hard, making me cry out and hold on to him tighter. He does it again, and again, pressing me against the wet marble tiles with each strong thrust, over and over, until I can’t take it anymore. I bring my mouth to his and kiss him hard, and he moves faster, sending flames racing across my wet skin, searing up my legs and wrapping around me until they’ve completely consumed me. “Sam,” I cry, squeezing him tightly.

  I soften beneath the weight of his strong body pushing me against the shower wall as he shudders inside me, groaning softly against my neck and grinding his hips against mine in an effort to bring us closer, as if it were possible.

  He lifts his head and his shoulders rise up and down with ragged breaths. “I love you”—he smiles—“so damn much.”

  I hold his flushed cheeks in my hands and kiss his wet lips. “I love you too.”

  He lowers me onto my wobbly legs and I hold on to him as I find my footing on the wet tiles. “First shower sex,” he says with a satisfied grin.

  “Um, if memory serves me, we had lots of shower sex in the Bahamas. In lots of different showers,” I say, narrowing my eyes.

  “Vacation sex doesn’t count,” he says, following me out of the shower. “This was our first shower sex at home.”

  I laugh into a towel, but Sam pulls it away from my face and says seriously, “In our home. In our shower.”

  I pull my eyebrows together at the unfamiliar thought and nod, trying to will Sam’s apartment to feel like home. But first I have to rid myself of the feeling that my real home is nestled on the tree-lined street I drove down this morning for the last time.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah. I just need to unpack and get settled in, that’s all.” I smile and wrap myself in the towel. “Now that I have the rest of my stuff, I can do that.”

  “Speaking of which…” He follows me into the bedroom. “How did it go?”

  “Drew wasn’t there, so, fine I guess.”

  I see the contentment on his face as he watches me gather my clothes out of the pile in the corner of the room. “So how did you get your stuff?”

  “Janice was there. And to say she wasn’t happy wi
th me is the understatement of the year.”

  “That bad, huh?”

  “Janice Christiansen can be your best friend or your worst enemy. Right now, I’m behind enemy lines.”

  “I knew I should have gone with you.”

  “It was fine. She actually softened up a little before I left.” I grab the manila envelope out of the bin I put it in for safekeeping. “She gave me this.”

  “What is it?’

  I plop down on the bed and look at him. “The deed to the studio.”

  He furrows his brow and sits down beside me. “He just gave it to you? Free and clear?”

  I shrug. “I told you, Drew’s not a bad guy. Janice said it’s his way of letting go.”

  “It’s his way of messing with your head.”

  “What?” I roll my eyes at the notion—even though I wasn’t planning on taking the studio free and clear—and I start getting dressed. “Is it so hard to believe that he just wants to move on?”

  “Okay, let’s say he does. But then how do you move on?” He gets up and heads back into the bathroom.

  “What do you mean?” I ask, following him.

  “It’ll always be the studio that he gave you. There’ll always be some small piece of him in it. You think he doesn’t know that?”

  “It doesn’t matter if he does. I’m with you, Sam. I think we’ve established that.”

  “I’m sorry, I’m just having a hard time understanding. So he can buy you a studio and give it to you outright, but I can’t?”

  “I wasn’t going to take it as a gift. I was already planning on talking to him about buying it…somehow. I still plan to.”

  “And you really think he’ll let you do that now? He’s already signed the deed over to you, Lucy.”

  “I don’t know. Yes?”

  “Luc, please…will you just consider buying a new studio? One that isn’t tied to the Christiansens?”

  I chew the corner of my mouth, trying to ignore the turmoil that’s clouding my head. I love my studio. I love that it’s where I met Sebastian and where I held my first art exhibit. It’s where Sam and I found each other again. But it’s also where Drew and I began our first venture together as an engaged couple. We oversaw the renovations together, we opened the doors together, and we celebrated it together. Sam’s right. Drew will always be a part of its history.