But of course, being the woman she is, my mother looked me square in the eyes and said, “I’m crying because your father doesn’t think I’m beautiful anymore.”
That’s what it was always about for her. How she looked. It couldn’t have been because he’s just an asshole who cheats. It had to be her fault. She wasn’t as young and pretty as she was when they first got married, and that was her only value.
Having gotten older, her worth was gone.
That’s when she started to change. When her outer shell became a hard plastic. Cosmetic surgery. Expensive clothes. Luxury cars. Fancy parties. If she couldn’t keep my dad’s attention, she sure as hell wanted everyone else’s.
Eventually, she managed to grab the attention of someone who could make her feel beautiful. A man who could give her what she wanted. Something even my father couldn’t give her, with all of his money and resources.
A daughter. A precious baby girl.
That man used her, and she used him in return.
I’ll never understand what led my mother to sleep with a married man, let alone one that had also been sleeping with other women. That had already fathered one child within the elite of Hermosa Beach.
But I guess it’s easy to excuse your behavior when you’re in pain. When you’re searching for something that you think could possibly solve your problems.
I push away my thoughts, not wanting to spend any time dealing with the knowledge I hold of what’s transpired between Hannah’s dad the rich wives of Hermosa Beach.
He might have done something nefarious, something shady and underhanded, committing a betrayal against his vows and his family.
But the girl that I’m rapidly falling for has nothing to do with any of that. She’s pure. A beautiful, enchanting ray of sunshine breaking through the cracks of the tangled web that we live in. And like a moth, I am drawn to her, unable to see anything but that light.
Instead of continuing my fruitless workout, I shower, change, make myself a quick breakfast smoothie, and then head into the main house, pushing open the door to the office I use when I’m in town.
I’ve been dicking around enough since I’ve been back. Time to start planning for London.
Something squeezes inside of me at that thought, but I carry on, knowing that there’s plenty of work to get done over the next few months before the summer ends.
When Otto approached me about stepping out of solely an investor role and into something that would be much more involved with the evolution of Elite X, I’d shrugged it off. It didn’t feel like it would be a good fit, considering the small-scale of events he hosts in the local area.
But being a long-time friend, I’d sat with him and helped him brainstorm additional ideas, pushing buttons that would help him formulate longer-term plans. That’s when this whole international travel thing sparked up.
Now, he wants me to be the director for the international branch, building up the department in London to create a self-sustaining business that manages partnerships and hotels and airfare. The whole shebang.
It’s a pretty big task, and if I’m honest, I’m not sure I want to be the one to do it.
I mean, I think I could do it. I’m just not sure I want to.
I used to be a big traveller, which is why I think Otto wanted me in on this part of Elite X. And I do love seeing the world. I spent a semester in New Zealand when I was in college. Probably the best few months of my life.
But I also don’t see myself living abroad permanently. And this London thing? Even though Otto claims it’s only for a few months, it feels long-term. Like I’d be moving to the UK for years. And as much as I want to carve a path for myself in a business like this one, I don’t want to have to move away to do it.
Being here, back in Hermosa, is making me realize that I might want to stay. Maybe not in this city, specifically. But at least nearby. The list of important things in my life is starting to shift around, and I’m starting to see the value in staying close, so I can be around for Ivy as she grows up. Maybe try to patch up my relationship with Ben.
And now, I can’t even believe I’m thinking this, but Hannah is starting to become a factor. The idea of leaving in August, even though that’s two months away… it turns something painfully in my chest. Like my heart, which was so jaded and jagged and rough around the edges, is finally starting to pulse again, and just the idea of going back to how I was before is like catching one of those unsmoothed corners.
“Knock, knock,” a voice says, and my head jerks to the doorway, where I see Lucas leaning against the doorjamb. “Hope I’m not intruding. Vicky let me in.”
I grit my jaw. Lucas showing up here unannounced isn’t surprising. But it is grating, especially since I can see in his facial expression that his smile is all for show.
He’s not pleased with me, and he’s here to share what’s on his mind.
“Come in,” I say. “Though I feel like you would have come in whether I invited you or not.”
Lucas tucks his sunglasses into the collar of his shirt, then takes a seat in one of the two chairs that face my desk, crossing his legs, his ankle propped against his knee and his hands resting casually in his lap.
At least I have the upper hand. When this room was getting designed – by my father – he told me that every office he worked in was made specifically to make sure the other person recognized the power of the person behind the desk. Dark colors, brass, uneven chair heights, and special lighting. Do I buy into that stuff? Not really. But I’ll take any leverage I can get.
Because as casual as Lucas is trying to be right now, I can feel him bristling beneath the surface.
“I saw you and Hannah this morning, though I’ve been hearing all weekend about the two of you together. Riding up to Santa Monica, a date at Papa Louis’, getting her the day off and taking her to the beach, spending the night in my house.” He cracks his knuckles, though it seems more in stress than intimidation. “I saw your shit on her nightstand this morning.”
“It’s interesting that you have people keeping tabs on your sister.”
“They’re not. But that doesn’t mean the people in this town aren’t loyal enough to tell me when something is going on.”
My nostrils flare, and I realize that I have no idea where this conversation is going.
“The minute I realized something was going on between the two of you, it became my business. I brought her here for a reason, and the guilt I feel about it is too much.” He shakes his head. “I won’t have you using her for anything on top of that.”
“I’m not using her,” I say.
Lucas rolls his eyes. “Don’t blow smoke up my ass, okay? I know you, Wyatt. I know who you are and how you are with women. Hannah is a quick pit stop before you take off, and she doesn’t need you as a complication when there’s a lot of other shit going on.”
I stand up, my chair shooting out behind me. Then I lean forward, one hand on my desk, the other with a finger pointed at Lucas. “You have no idea what’s going on between me and Hannah, or how I feel about her. So you have no business getting involved.”
Lucas stands, too. “You expect me to believe you actually feel anything for her? What, are you in love with her?”
I freeze.
Because in truth, the words form on my tongue but I can’t get them to come out of my mouth.
It’s too soon, too swift, too sharp.
So I say nothing.
“That’s what I thought,” he says, heading to the door while I stand mute, unable to say anything worthwhile.
He turns back to look at me before he leaves.
“Stay the fuck away from my sister,” he spits out.
And then he’s out the door.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Hannah
When I hit the brakes outside of the house on Friday evening, I’m not surprised to see dozens of people spilling out onto The Strand.
I could hear the music from blocks away, but I guess that’s
just the type of good time Lucas enjoys.
I lock up my bike and slip through the crowd, then jog up the stairs from the bottom floor all the way to the top.
I have no interest in getting stopped by anyone for anything, my only focus on heading straight for my room to shower and get ready, since Wyatt’s supposed to be here and I want to smell much better than this.
When I open my bedroom door, I see a wrapped package on my bed.
I smile. I don’t know how Lucas knew it was my birthday, but I can see his handwriting spelling out my name on the card.
Pushing myself to have patience, I quickly jump into the shower, scrub the smell of grease and meat off my skin and out of my hair, then make sure to put on that lotion that Wyatt loves.
Finally, after I’ve gotten fully ready, I open up the card.
Hannah,
Hopefully this helps get you to where you want to be
Lucas
I carefully unwrap the package, having no idea what could possibly be inside. But when I see a familiar logo, I stop unwrapping. My butt hits my bed and I cover my mouth with my hand.
There’s no way…
I finish pulling off the pretty blue paper and hold the box in my hands, spinning it around to look at the photos on the outside. And that’s when I see another note, taped to the box itself.
Opening the flap, I almost want to laugh when I see the same handwriting.
Hannah,
I know you’ll say I shouldn’t do this. And I know you’ll assume I think you’re mooching off of me. But that’s not the case. Just consider this a replacement birthday gift for all of the ones I missed in the past.
Happy Birthday,
Lucas
It shocks me how quickly he already seems to know me. But it also warms something in my chest. Something that had frozen over a long time ago.
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, still struggling to understand how he managed to figure out such a special birthday gift. Something I can really use. Something that has the potential to change my life.
Deciding to accept Lucas’ amazing gift without complaint, I slowly open the box, pulling out the Nikon D850.
It fits perfectly in my hands, not too heavy but not so light that I don’t realize how expensive this must be.
A camera like this will be a game changer. I might even be able to build up an actual, legitimate photography business now.
Eventually, I force myself to walk away from my gift, heading downstairs to find my brother.
When I find him in the kitchen, chatting with Otto, I bump everyone out of the way and wrap my arms around him. “Thank you so much,” I say. Then I pull back and see the pleased smile on his face. “Seriously. And yes, I do think it is too much. But it’s also amazing and could possibly completely change everything. So I’m not going to tell you I won’t take it.”
“I’m glad,” he says, his smile matching mine. “Now, let’s celebrate.”
I look over my shoulder, my eyes widening when I see Paige pulling a cake out of the fridge.
“Sorry, I was supposed to get this ready once I saw you come home and I lost track of time,” she says, digging candles out of a box. “Gimme thirty seconds.”
The last time I had a birthday cake with candles was my ninth birthday. It was Cinderella themed, though the idea of becoming an orphan and dealing with wicked family drama wasn’t even on my radar at the time.
So when Paige gets all of the candles lit, someone turns off the music, and everyone in the area starts singing happy birthday to me?
The rush of emotion is almost too high.
Too much.
I close my eyes before I blow out my candles, not wanting to waste my wish even though I know it’s bullshit. Then I lean forward and blow out the candles as everyone claps for me.
“How did you know?” I ask Lucas, stepping to the side as Paige whisks away the cake to pluck the candles and start slicing for our little group. “I didn’t tell anyone it was my birthday today.”
He shrugs. “I saw it on your MatchLink profile when we first started talking.”
“And you remembered?”
He blushes.
Like taking the time to file away information about me is something he should be embarrassed about, or like I might judge him for remembering something like this.
But I embrace him, wrapping my arms around him tight.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He nods, gives the top of my hair a kiss and steps back. “You’re welcome.”
My phone beeps in my pocket and I step away, pulling it out, hoping it’s Wyatt. I smile when I see it’s him.
Wyatt: Can you meet me outside?
Me: Sure. Gimme a second.
I glance around, making sure no one needs me, then head out to the courtyard where I find Wyatt sitting on the steps.
“Hey, why didn’t you come inside? You just missed it.”
“Missed what?” he asks, giving me a tight smile, his face looking tired and distracted.
I furrow my brow. “What’s wrong?”
He shakes his head. “I’m just tired. What did I miss?”
I wrap my arms around his stomach and lift up on my toes. “It’s my birthday.”
I press my lips to his but I feel Wyatt freeze against me, so I pull back.
“Don’t feel bad for not knowing, okay? I’m surprised Lucas remembered. But there’s cake. Do you want to come inside and eat some with me?”
He lets out a sigh and presses his forehead to mine. “Happy birthday, Hannah. Sure, I’d love some cake.”
I don’t know what has him in a weird mood, but I press a kiss to his cheek and lead us inside, dropping his hand as we get into the kitchen.
“Look who I found outside!” I say, with a big smile.
Wyatt gets a chorus of hellos from everyone. He does the rounds, hugs, hand shakes. And just as Paige hands me a piece of cake, he gets to Lucas, who looks at him with a hard glare that I don’t understand before stalking out of the room.
Wyatt scratches the back of his neck, his expression uncomfortable.
But no one else notices. Everyone’s too busy eating cake and dispersing back into the living room to dance and drink and talk with other people.
I sidle up next to Wyatt. “Everything okay?”
The last thing I want to do is tell him I saw what was clearly an strained interaction between him and Lucas, but I still want him to feel like he can talk to me about it.
But he shakes his head. “Nothing,” he says, then steps away and grabs a beer from the fridge.
My heart sinks just a little bit.
This isn’t how I pictured tonight.
I thought we’d be flirty, sneak up to my room and fool around while the party raged downstairs. Not that there would be lots of awkward tension and discomfort that I don’t understand.
He stands next to me for the next half hour as we listen to Otto and that Aaron Singer guy from Harbor’s as they tell us about a trip they took to Iceland last year.
But I can see the writing on the wall when he turns to me not long after and tells me he has to leave.
“Really?” I ask, though I feel guilty even saying that. He clearly isn’t having a good evening, and I should want him to get rest or whatever he needs to make sure he feels better.
He nods. “Yeah, I’m just… my head is in a weird space right now. But I’ll text you tomorrow, okay?”
“Sure.”
We head to the front door and step out to the courtyard, and I can’t help myself when I place a soft kiss on his lips. He squeezes my hand, then gives me a tight smile. “Happy birthday, Hannah. I’ll make it up to you, okay?”
And then he turns and heads home, leaving me wondering what’s really going on.
When I wake up early the next morning, I do the first thing that comes to mind.
I pull out the manual to my amazing new camera and get to reading.
There are so many things to learn, so
many differences between my old, crappy piece of shit and this new, very expensive, work of craftsmanship.
And that’s where Lucas finds me two hours later. My back against my bed, all of the camera parts spread out around me, with the manual open to one of the last pages. And a huge, nerdy smile on my face
“You know, I feel like there’s no way we can be related.”
My cheeks pink slightly.
“No one I’m related to would take all of the time to read the manual first.”
“Well, my patience is definitely something I got from my mom,” I reply, crawling to my feet, cringing when I realize my right foot has fallen asleep.
“Have you fiddled around with it enough yet so we can take it out and shoot some photos?”
I nod, my face covered in nothing but happiness.
“Let’s walk down to Mary’s to get some morning drinks, and you can take pictures of everything we see.”
“That sounds so fantastic.”
We wander down The Strand as I test out the camera. I play around with the digital settings and try new exposures. There’s an expression I’ve heard before, being like a kid in a candy store. I’ve always understood the concept, but having never been a child in a candy store, I never felt like I really got it.
Until today.
This feels like the first moment I’ve really understood what that meant. There’s just so many things I want to do and try with this camera, that I don’t even know where to start.
“You work tonight, right?” he asks, taking a sip of his coffee as he follows me down The Strand.
I nod.
“Tomorrow, I need to head up to Downtown LA to handle some stuff with my mom and our lawyer.” He shrugs, like it’s an everyday occurrence that most people would understand. “Do you want me to invite her here after? We could all have dinner.”
My eyes widen, behind my lens as I’m attempting to capture a shot of a bird on the wall that divides The Strand from the beach.
Promise Me Nothing (Hermosa Beach Book 1) Page 27