by Robin Huber
“Okay. I’ll think about it.”
Chapter 7
Lucy
He wants me to buy another studio,” I say to Sebastian, who pauses mid-sip and lowers his soy cinnamon dolce latte.
“But Drew gave you this one, no strings attached. It was the best-case scenario.” He takes another sip.
“Sam thinks there are strings attached.” I sip my latte macchiato and sigh. “He thinks it’s Drew’s way of keeping me tied to him. I don’t know if it is or not, but it’s really bothering Sam that Drew gave it to me.”
“Well that sounds like Sam’s problem.”
“But, what if I feel that way a little too?” I ask over the rim of my paper coffee cup.
Bas takes my hand and drags me to the middle of my brightly lit studio, gesturing at the walls that are adorned with my paintings. “You created this. No one gave this to you. These paintings belong to you.”
“Yeah, and they’re hanging on the walls that Drew paid for.”
He rolls his eyes and marches across the hardwood floor to answer the studio phone that’s ringing on the front desk. “Hello?…No comment.” He hangs up.
“Who was that?”
“Nobody.” He unbuttons the sleeves of his fitted navy blue dress shirt and begins rolling them up on his way back over to me. “Some stupid reporter.”
“What were they asking about?”
He drops his head to the side and gives me a dubious look.
“Well, obviously, but I meant specifically. What did they want to know about me this time?”
“Your due date.”
I choke on my coffee, spitting a little bit of it on Bas’s shirt. “Sorry!” I say, pulling my hand to my mouth.
He flares his nostrils and wipes his front buttons with the inside of his wrist. “I assume you don’t have anything to tell me.”
“Of course not!” I shriek and grab my phone.
I Google Sam’s name.
Sam Cole expecting first child with artist girlfriend.
Sam Cole’s girlfriend pregnant with ex’s baby.
“Uhh!” I huff, and keep reading.
Sam Cole trapped by unexpected pregnancy with girlfriend from his past.
Sam Cole and Lucy Bennett to marry this Christmas.
I look at Bas and start laughing hysterically.
The corners of his mouth turn down as he watches me. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I say over the giggles that are bubbling out of me like a pot boiling over. “It’s so…stupid.” I laugh harder.
Bas starts laughing too. “After all these years, you finally trapped him.”
“It was my master plan all along.”
“And now you’re having Drew’s baby!”
I gasp for air in between wails of laughter and wipe my eyes, but the tears keep coming, and before I know it, I’m actually crying.
“Oh, honey,” Bas says, squeezing my hand. “I told you not to read that crap.”
“I finally got my big break with my exhibit and now everything I’ve worked for could be overshadowed by a bunch of lies. They shouldn’t be allowed to write that stuff. And now they’re talking about Drew? It’s one thing if my career is ruined, but I’d never forgive myself if this affects Drew’s. He’s one of the hardest-working people I know. He shouldn’t be a newsflash.”
“Neither should you.”
I nod softly and wipe my eyes. “I’m just glad they’re not hanging outside the studio anymore.”
“Look, I’ll make you a deal. You promise not to Google yourself or Sam, and I promise to keep you abreast of any rumors worthy of a good laugh.” He sticks out his pinky. “Okay?”
“Okay.” I wrap my pinky around his and he gives it a shake.
“Now, more importantly. Have you found a dress for LA yet?”
“No, but I still have a couple of weeks. I’d like to get my stuff unpacked at Sam’s first.”
“Sweetie, you live there now. Stop calling it Sam’s. And why haven’t you unpacked yet? It’s been days.”
“A week actually. And I don’t know. It just doesn’t feel like home yet. It feels like I’m sleeping over or something, at a really nice hotel.”
Bas holds his clean-shaven chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Maybe because you’re living in an episode of Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous.”
“I know, right? It’s weird. There’s too much space, and everything’s so perfect.”
“Well, would Sam care if you changed some things around?”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know, maybe you could start with a picture frame,” he says seriously, and it makes me laugh. “Surely you took some pictures in Exuma.”
I raise a mischievous eyebrow. “Perhaps.”
Bas rolls his eyes. “One you could display in your living room.”
I grin and pull up my pictures, and start scrolling through them. “What about this one?” I show him one I took of me and Sam on the beach with the turquoise water as our backdrop.
“That one’s great. Now frame it and put it in your living room.”
“Okay. I will.” I put my phone down and follow him to the back of the studio. “Speaking of LA, are you sure you can’t come?”
“As much as I like watching the Lucy-Sam saga unfold, I have my own love life to tend to. It’s our anniversary that weekend, remember?”
“Oh, that’s right. Speaking of your love life, how are things on the baby front?”
“For the time being, we aren’t talking about it.”
“How’s that working out?”
“It’s basically me not talking about it and Paul leaving adoption pamphlets on every surface in our apartment, like breadcrumbs.”
“Have you read any of them? Maybe you’ll find something in one that’ll make you feel better about everything.”
“On principle alone, no.”
“Sebastian.”
“Look, I’m not ready to be a parent, okay? And I honestly don’t know when or if I ever will be.”
“Have you told Paul that?”
“And crush his dreams? No way.”
“Sebastian, you have to tell him. You can’t just not talk about it.”
“I know. He’s taking me on a weekend getaway for our anniversary. Maybe after some relaxation, and a few drinks, I can bring it up.”
“Where’s he taking you?”
“I don’t know.” He twists his pen back and forth between his fingers. “Hopefully not Florida.”
“Why? What’s wrong with Florida?”
“Paul’s family. His mother, specifically.”
“Oh, Sebastian, she can’t be that bad.”
“Let’s just say she’s no Janice Christiansen,” he says, biting the end of his pen.
I roll my eyes. “One is enough.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to reconsider your choice? I’d put up with Drew if meant we got to keep Janice.”
“Sebastian.”
“Ugh,” he groans, and plops down onto one of the floor pillows. “I’m going to miss her. I should have known she was too fabulous to be true.”
“She wasn’t so fabulous yesterday,” I say, sitting down next to him with my laptop.
“Well, what did you expect? You broke her heart—I mean, her son’s heart.” He smirks and sips his coffee.
“Yeah, well, as much as I hate to admit it, I’m going to miss her too. She was the closest thing I’ve had to a mother since I was little. Probably the closest I’ll ever get.”
He puts his hand over mine and drops his chin. “What I said before was shitty. I’m sorry.”
“For what?” I ask curiously.
“Paul’s mom isn’t that bad. She actually gives really good skincare advice.”
I laugh softly and give him an adoring smile. “So do you.”
He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “So what you’re saying is that…I’m the new Janice?”
I laugh and narrow my eyes. “You’re jus
t as fabulous, but way cooler.”
He presses his fingers to his chest and inhales a dramatic breath. “I am, aren’t I?”
“And you’re a lot nicer.”
“Well”—he shrugs a shoulder—“I try.”
* * *
After two weeks of shopping for the perfect picture frame, I place the photo of me and Sam on the beach in Exuma beneath the glass, and carefully position it on one of the shelves next to the fireplace in the living room.
I take a step back to see how Sam and I look on display. I turn the frame to the left a little and take another step back. I move it to the shelf on the other side of the fireplace and consider it there. I turn it to the right this time.
“Perfect,” Sam says, walking up behind me.
I turn around and take a step back when I see what he’s wearing—a charcoal suit and matching vest, a crisp blue button-down, and a skinny gray tie. His hair is combed back, and his clean-shaven face showcases the dimples in his cheeks and the matching one in his chin. I reach up to loosen his tie and breathe in his warm, clean scent. “How’d your meeting with the endorsement people go?”
“Oh, you know, same as always. Miles talks, I nod, we all sign.” He narrows his eyes. “Exciting stuff.”
I smile at his indifference, because I know how much his endorsements really mean to him. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“You looked deep in thought,” he says, wrapping me in his arms.
“I wasn’t sure about the frame. It took me a while to decide on one. Do you like it?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Are you sure? I know you don’t really like a lot of knickknacks.”
He frowns softly. “When did I say that?”
“Well, you don’t have any other pictures in your living room.”
“Because I didn’t have any pictures worth framing in my living room, until now.”
I rest my chin on his chest and grin. “Maybe we could give it a friend?”
He laughs and rubs my arms. “Buy all the frames you want. You’ll never have enough for all the memories we’re going to make.”
I smile wide and look over my shoulder at the picture again. “It feels homier already.”
He gives me a curious look. “Homier?” He looks around the clean, contemporary space. “Is that what you want?”
I shrug. “It could use a little warming up in here.”
“Why didn’t you say something sooner?”
“Because I didn’t want to move into your home and start asking you to change everything around. I’ve seen How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days.”
“Lamb…” He smiles softly, showing me his dimples. “This is our home now. At least until we find something more permanent. I want you to make it yours. Change every room. Paint every wall. Put knickknacks on every shelf, if you want. I don’t care. I asked you to move in because I want to share our home together.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” He puts his hand under my chin and says softly, “Just don’t ask me to take care of a love fern, okay? I don’t do plants.”
I laugh. “No love ferns, got it.”
He kisses me softly and I melt into his strong arms.
I move my hands to his waist inside his suit jacket. “I can’t believe you’ve seen that movie.”
“Yeah, well, it wasn’t by choice.”
“Molly?”
“Yup.”
My phone whistles on the coffee table. I pick it up and read the text from a number I don’t know.
Hey it’s Molly. Just wanted to see if you’ve given any more thought to working together. Let me know!
“Speak of the she-devil,” I say, turning my screen around so he can see the text. “How did Molly get my number?”
“I gave it to her,” he says, shrugging out of his jacket. “I figured she could stop bothering me and go straight to the source.”
I pull my eyebrows together and lay my phone back down on the table. “I don’t know how I feel about working with her, Sam. Even though it would be a great way to get my name out there and showcase my work online. It’s just…too weird, to be quite honest. I mean, you two slept together. A lot.”
“It was casual.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better about it?”
“You should give her a chance. Her company has designed websites and created graphics for some pretty big names. A lot of clothing brands.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. You should talk to her about it. See what opportunities she can offer you. She can be a pretty good friend too.”
“Okay,” I say, nodding softly. “I’ll think about it. But, are you sure it wouldn’t be weird for you?”
“Not weird. Molly has far better things to do in her free time than think about me. Like Tristan,” he says nonchalantly.
“Molly and Tristan?”
“Yeah. They’ve been talking.” He fights an amused smile.
“You’re funny.” I purse my lips at him. “So it really doesn’t bother you that they talk now?”
“No. Molly’s my friend. That’s all she ever was,” he reiterates. “If Tristan makes her happy, then that makes me happy.”
“But Tristan’s kind of a player, isn’t he?” I ask, smirking.
“If Tristan could settle down with someone, he would, but he can’t.” He heads to the kitchen and grabs a bottle of beer out of the fridge. “You want one?”
“No, but I’ll take a glass of wine,” I say, hopping up onto the counter. I reach behind me and get a wineglass down out of the cabinet while Sam gets a bottle from the wine fridge.
He uncorks it and fills my glass.
“What do you mean, he can’t settle down?” I ask.
He leans against the counter beside me and sips his beer. “Tristan doesn’t think he’ll live long enough to share a life with someone.” He exhales a rough breath through his nostrils and takes another sip of his beer.
“What?” I ask over the shock that’s suddenly squeezing my chest.
“His heart is too weak. Even with the pacemaker.”
I climb down off the counter and stand next to him. “How long does he have?”
“A few years, maybe more if he’s lucky.”
I suck in horrified breath and blink back tears. “Isn’t there something we can do? What about a transplant?”
“He’s on the waiting list, but he has to wait his turn like everybody else. It could take years.”
I sip my cold wine and swallow it down over the lump in my throat. “I’m sorry.”
“Me too.” He takes another sip of his beer. “Tris won’t ever get to experience what we have.”
“So then, Tris playing the field is really just Tris trying to live as much as he can before he…”
“Something like that.”
“Does Molly know?”
“That’s for them to work out.” He shrugs.
I take another sip of my wine and exhale a breath that’s laced with sadness I can’t hide.
“Don’t be sad, Lamb. Tris isn’t. And he wouldn’t want either of us to pity him.”
“Tris isn’t here.”
He wraps me in his arms and kisses my forehead. “No, he isn’t.”
“It’s going to be okay. Miracles happen.”
He lets go of me and says softly, “Just look at us.”
I give him a gentle smile. “Yeah.”
“If Tristan were here, he’d tell us to stop moping and go pack for LA.” He nods toward the bedroom. “Want to get started?”
“Can I bring my wine?”
“It’s your house.”
I smile and lead the way to the bedroom. “I wonder what LA is like in December? They must have the best Christmas lights with all the rich celebrities that live here,” I say wistfully.
“I’ve never been in December, but I imagine the Christmas lights are pretty good.”
“Maybe when we get home, we can put some up here…outside on the balcony? And…I w
as thinking it might be fun to put up a Christmas tree and celebrate our first Christmas together.”
“Okay.” He smiles. “I’d like that.”
I grab my notepad off the nightstand and scribble down xmas tree and lights.
“What else is on your list?” He looks over my shoulder and reads aloud, “Tampons.”
“Sexy, I know. But it’s reality. And I should be starting any day now, so this little honeymoon of ours is going to have to go on hiatus. Just in time for your pre-fight celibacy rule to take effect.”
“Well, you see, that’s not until tomorrow. Tonight, I’m all yours.”
I fight a smile and shrug casually. “Good to know.”
Chapter 8
Lucy
You ready?” Miles asks me as we pull up to the Staples Center in LA.
Although we’ve arrived at a back entrance of the arena, the SUV is surrounded before the driver even puts it in park. There were paparazzi at the hotel too, but only a few. Not like this.
“No.”
“Okay, we can wait a minute, we have time.”
“They’re everywhere,” I say, glancing up at the tinted windows.
“Look, Grady’s gonna get out of the front seat first. He’ll open your door and keep them all back while we walk in.”
“I won’t let anybody touch you, Lucy,” Grady says in a gravelly voice that resonates from somewhere deep inside his barrel chest.
“Okay.” I tug on the hem of my lacy long-sleeved cocktail dress where it hugs my thighs. Sebastian chose the merlot color for the holiday season. I wish he was here. Note to self: Add “Must attend all boxing matches with Lucy” to his job description. Not sure how Paul will feel about that amendment.
“You look beautiful, Lucy. Just breathe,” Miles says calmly.
I inhale a deep breath through my mouth and blow it out slowly.
“They’re going to fire questions at you about Sam. Don’t answer any of them. Just smile and walk to the door. Okay?”
I bob my head, but I don’t move. I can’t.
“We have to get out now.”
“What if I trip? I’m nervous. I shouldn’t have worn these shoes,” I say, glancing down at the shimmery gold stilettos on my feet.
“I’ll be right behind you. I won’t let you trip.” Miles says.