by Elise Faber
Yup. Luke definitely deserved that gold medal.
Afterward, they showered, threw on the bare minimum of clothes, then found their way back to Becky’s bed.
He picked up her cell from her nightstand. “Ready?”
“No,” she muttered, but took it from him anyway, punching in four numbers to unlock the screen. They corresponded to a date in the past he was hoping to replicate at some point—four ten—the day he’d first proposed to her.
She hadn’t accepted . . . because that wasn’t his Becky.
She would never be an easy woman to love. She was formed of layers and layers, some soft and generous, some vulnerable and protected by sharp spikes, but if he could make his way to the core of her again?
That was the best.
If someone made it into that inner circle, his Becky loved without barriers. She would move the world to make that person happy, love them at the expense of herself.
She gave everything. He just hadn’t been able to give everything back.
But he was different now. She owned him and he would give her everything down to his last breath.
Her finger hovered over the button to play the message for a moment. “I—”
“You got this.”
Eyes locked with his, the finger came down, and the voicemail began to play.
“Hi, uh, Rebecca. My name is Helen. I’m your father’s . . . um, wife. I—"
A loud gust of air made them both wince.
“I’m sorry. I probably shouldn’t be calling. I know you don’t want to hear from us, but your father is sick and . . . I, uh, thought you should know in case. Anyway, I hope you’ll come. He’d really like to see you . . .”
Helen rattled off the name of the hospital and a room number.
The message ended, and she played it again. Then a third time. But when she would have gone for a fourth, Luke stayed her hands.
She didn’t fight him, just let him slip her cell from her grip and set it on the nightstand.
“He—” Her shoulders sagged the slightest bit. “He didn’t tell me he’d gotten remarried.” Her voice was small, too fucking small for the vibrant woman he loved. “I’ve talked to him once a year on his birthday. I’ve emailed. Texted. And this Helen thinks—” She shook her head, hands clenching into fists where they rested on the outsides of her thighs. “I waited for him to call me, hoped he’d remember my birthday or maybe send me a fucking Christmas present.” She jumped to her feet, paced alongside the bed. “Do you know that before Abby and Sera, I was the only one who spent every holiday at school? Alone. I was so pathetic that the different teachers took turns bringing me home so I wouldn’t be by myself. And he—he has the fucking gall to say that it was me? That I didn’t want to talk to him. I—I—”
She stumbled to a stop, knees giving out.
But he was there before she crumpled to the floor.
Luke scooped her into his arms, carried her back to bed, and held her as his powerful, strong, courageous woman lost her battle with tears.
Sometimes the creatures with the hardest shells had the softest insides.
And his Becky, she had a really hard shell.
Twenty
Bec
She’d been categorizing Luke in her head as the man she’d loved.
Emphasis on the past tense.
But as she looked around the living room of her apartment, the members of the Sextant who were in town gathered because of the man she loved today.
Luke had called them while she’d slept off her crying fit, and now it was after ten and her friends all had to work the next day and they’d still come and . . . great. Because the fact that they’d come, that Heather had FaceTimed in the middle of her workday in Berlin, that CeCe was on a beach in the Mediterranean and still had called made her feel like crying all over again.
“I don’t like having feelings,” she muttered.
Abby shoved a tissue box at her. “You’re not the Tin Man. You’ve always had a big heart, Becky.”
Bec narrowed her eyes at her friend, who just grinned unrepentantly, then turned to glare at Luke, who raised his hands in surrender and mouthed, “I didn’t know.”
“Why do you think you’re usually the first one any of us call when we’re in trouble, huh?”
“Because I’m single and nearby?”
Luke snorted and slipped into the kitchen, abandoning her, the jerk.
“Except, you probably have the heaviest workload of all of us, Heather aside,” Rachel said.
“More,” Heather chimed in. “Clay has made me slow down the last six months.”
Sera’s lips twitched. “What exactly is your definition of slowing down?”
“Not beach time,” CeCe said, reclining back on her lounger and taking a sip of a colorful drink with a purple umbrella in it.
“Or staying in the same time zone for more than a few days at a time,” Rachel teased.
Heather glared. “Considering you’re the one who makes my schedule, whose fault is that?”
“Ladies,” Abby said. “We’ve been called here for a reason.”
Exactly one moment of silence before the room burst into laughter, including Bec.
“We’ve . . . been called . . .” Sera was bent over on the couch, clutching her side as giggles erupted out of her.
“We need cloaks,” Rachel managed between laughs.
“And a boiling cauldron,” CeCe added.
“Magic crystals.” Heather.
“More wine,” Bec said.
“Amen to that, sister,” Abby muttered. “I swear, you guys, I don’t even know why we’re friends sometimes.”
Sera tugged their reluctant friend into a hug. “Aw! You love us.”
Luke walked in with a bottle of wine and filled their glasses, then sat down on the couch next to Bec. “Should I go?” he whispered. “I don’t want to leave you, but I also don’t want to intrude if you want to be with the girls—”
This man.
God, she loved him.
“Thank you.” She cupped his cheek. “For caring. I’d like it if you stayed, at least until any talk of penises starts happening.”
His brows rose. “Is that going to happen?”
Her lips twitched. “Guaranteed.”
He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Okay. Staying till talk of penises commences.”
Abby waggled her brows. “So tempting.”
“Shut it, you,” Bec told her.
“What happened to the picture of the kiddos?” Abby asked innocently.
Bec’s eyes narrowed at her friend. Luke had picked up the pictures they’d knocked to the ground before her friends had come over, and though Sera had given the naked walls a second look, no one had said anything.
Abby grinned unrepentantly.
“Becky—Bec is considering redecorating,” Luke said.
Smiles all around, the punks. But then Sera sighed. “You’ve got a good one there.”
Bec’s mouth curved. “I do,” she said. “I really do. Don’t know why he puts up with me, considering I’ve spent this entire evening pretending to be a gigantic pile of tears.”
“Well, first,” Abby said. “He’s lucky you let him come back into your life—no offense, Luke.”
“None taken,” he said with a grin. “I am lucky she decided to give me another chance.”
“Second, you’re fucking awesome, dude.” She leaned over Sera and lightly punched Bec’s arm. “What happened to the Rebecca Darden, kickass lawyer who doesn’t take any shit from anyone?”
“She got motherfucking feelings,” Bec grumbled. “It sucks ass.”
“I happen to like your ass,” Luke said.
“I bet he does,” Heather said with a cackle. “What kinds of things is he doing with that yummy ass, Becky?”
Bec stood, grabbed Luke’s hand and tugged him to his feet as well. “And that’s your cue.”
He hesitated. “But there wasn’t any talk of penises.”
An
d now all the girls were cackling.
“There was yummy ass talk,” Bec told him. “That’s close enough.”
Luke’s lips were tugging up at the corners. “If you say so.” He leaned in, pressed his lips to the spot just in front of her ear. “You sure you’re okay?”
Bec nodded. “I am.”
He rolled back on his heels. “Okay then, I’m going on an ice cream run. Orders?” he asked the room at large, typing the requests into his phone and chuckling when Heather and CeCe expressed their jealousy at missing out. After they’d all finished, he leaned in and kissed her soundly on the lips and long enough to make her head spin. “I’ll be back in a bit.” He started to leave, paused, and met her gaze. “I love you.”
“Dude,” CeCe breathed after he’d gone. “You need to put a ring on that.”
They all laughed, and then Heather said, “As much as I’m enjoying this little tête-à-tête, I have a meeting in fifteen minutes and don’t want to miss all the important juicy bits.”
“Juicy bits?” Abby said with a snort.
“Yes,” Heather replied. “Big ol’ giant juicy bits. I like them. I want them—”
“I’m going to puke,” Rachel interjected.
Sera nodded. “Let’s step away from juicy bits and move onto emotions.”
“I second that,” CeCe said.
“I’m still semi-interested in Heather’s juicy bits—” Bec stopped, made a face. “Okay, that sounded a lot less dirty in my head. I’m sorry to everyone involved.”
“Bec.” Sera took her hand. “For the love of God, please save us more juice talk and get to the point.”
Bec took a glug from her wine glass. “My dad, or rather, my stepmother called me.”
Silence. Only half the room—herself, Abby, and Sera—knew why that was such a big deal, and so Abby and Sera were stunned into muteness by the news. Rachel, CeCe, and Heather were quiet, as they no doubt waited for more information as to why her stepmother calling was such a big deal.
“The long and short of it,” she said, “is that my mom died, and my dad shipped me off to boarding school. I was the Harry Potter equivalent of not going home for holidays, of being lonely and isolated, except my dad was still alive. He didn’t visit or call, not even on my birthday. Every bit of contact we’ve had over the last twenty-something years has been because of me, because I called.”
She sighed, took another sip of wine. “And even then, even after I moved back, he still never had time to meet for lunch or dinner, never wanted me to come by his house or office. Turns out he remarried and never mentioned it to me, then started another life, and other than my trust fund—which I haven’t touched since I graduated from law school—he hasn’t given me a second thought.”
Yay for family.
Another sip from her glass as clarity dawned. “I think I reminded him too much of my mom, of everything he lost. Maybe I should have pushed harder, called more—”
“What. A. Dick.” Harsh words from a source Bec wouldn’t have expected.
From CeCe.
“You needed him, and he abandoned you. Good parents are good because they put their kids first.” Her tone took on a bitter note. “I know because mine didn’t.”
“We’re all on that particular train, CeCe,” Heather said. “I had parents who made babies like they were going out of style but didn’t want to actually spend time with them. Abby’s parents are no peaches—her mom having an affair and, no offense, but your bio dad is a total dickwad—”
“None taken,” Abby said.
“Let’s see,” Heather tapped her chin. “CeCe’s disowned her because, gasp, she wanted to live her own life. Rachel’s dad was both absentee and shockingly bad. Who’s left?”
Sera raised her hand. “I don’t have any of that. My parents are still happily married. But I am incredibly sorry you guys went through that.”
“Girl,” Abby touched her arm. “Your parents aren’t peaches, either. Remember when you wanted to stop with the pageants, and they shipped you off to boarding school? Or the time you didn’t want to be in that commercial, so they forbid you from eating anything except for carrots and spinach until you agreed?”
“It wasn’t that bad. I was getting chunky—”
Heather raised a brow. “You’d what? Gone from a size double zero to a zero?”
“I—” Sera fumbled for a few moments to find the right words then sighed. “Okay, fine. My parents were pretty shitty.”
“Glad you got there in the end,” Heather said with a smirk. “But putting that revelation aside, my point is that none of us are the same, aside from our dirty ass minds—”
Abby snorted, thus confirming her dirty-minded tendencies.
Heather ignored her. “We’re all very different and still not one of us had stellar parents. And at the risk of digressing, but something I think is also important is that the common experience of going through that is probably why we found each other in the first place. Like knows like. Pain knows pain.” Heather waved a hand, probably because she was bordering on poetic, and Heather definitely didn’t do poetic. “Anyway, I think the most important thing we can deduce is that their ineptitude has nothing to do with us.”
Bec frowned, and she wasn’t the only one in the room to do so, but Heather went on with her explanation before they could question her logic.
“I’m not saying any of us are perfect. Far from it, actually. I’m just saying our imperfection and, on the opposite side, our success and whatever happiness we’ve managed to carve out in our lives haven’t happened because of them. We’ve managed to become the people we are today in spite of their interference and absence and general douchebaggery.”
Abby nodded. “My dad definitely has a degree in douchebaggery.”
“And mine,” CeCe added.
“Ditto,” Rachel said.
“I guess it’s no wonder why we’re so fucked up,” Bec said dryly, and they all laughed. “Heather, I know you have to go, and I definitely feel what you’re saying. But . . . I guess I don’t necessarily feel comfortable blaming a sick man for my emotional problems. I’ve never been one to not take responsibility for my actions.”
“Which makes you a much better person than your father.”
Oh.
Bec’s heart twisted. Not because she believed that she was the better person, but because she’d always blamed herself for her dad leaving her.
It was her fault that he’d gone.
She’d seen the pictures, knew she looked like her mother, knew she reminded him too much of her mom and that the resemblance hurt him.
But that was . . . bullshit.
It wasn’t her fault.
And it never had been.
Strange how just thinking the words changed everything, as though a switch had flipped in her brain or maybe in her heart, or maybe Luke and her friends had finally given her the courage to understand.
She’d been a kid.
It wasn’t on her.
Bec blinked back tears, though instead of crying for her past and the hurt and the painful memories, those tears were full of relief.
Relief she no longer had to carry that burden.
Relief her life no longer had to be defined by something that had happened to her growing up.
Relief she finally could be herself and that she didn’t always need to be tough or impenetrable or unfeeling.
Arms wrapped around her, holding tightly as she sniffed. “Okay, fine. You win. You guys are the best,” she said.
“Of course we are,” Heather joked, startling a laugh out of her.
Sera broke away from the group hug. “So great, Ms. Becky here doesn’t have to see her dad. She can just move on with Luke and live happily ever after.”
“No.” This time the rebuttal was from Bec herself. “I’m going to see my father because I have balls of steel. I’m going to clear that final hurdle and put this shit behind me. Then I’m going to move on with my HEA with Luke.”
&nbs
p; “Damn,” Sera whispered. “You’re good.”
“Not exactly,” Bec told her. “I just know I have to be done with this once and for all.”
On the screen, Heather waved a hand—in these are not the droids you’re looking for fashion. “I’ve trained you well, young Jedi.” Her lips twitched. “I’m sorry that I need to run, but—”
“Go,” Bec told her. “And thank you.” Heather’s portion of the screen went blank, and Bec looked around the room. “Thank you all. I couldn’t have done this, be semi-healthy and happy without you guys. I’d still be in the office working fourteen-hour days and not enjoying anything other than the occasional book and girls’ night.”
“Now you’re down to ten-hour days,” Sera teased. “That’s huge progress.”
For her it was, but she also understood Sera’s point. “I’m not stopping here. I’m going to grab onto my happy ending, and I’m going to fight for it and I’m never letting it go again.”
“Damn straight you are,” Abby said with a nod.
Rachel lifted her palm for a high five. “Fuck yeah, Becky.”
“Give him hell, sugar pie,” CeCe chimed in.
“I take it back. I hate you all,” Bec muttered.
“I’ll get more wine,” Sera crowed. “And then we’re talking about how Rachel and Sebastian got caught making out in Heather’s office.”
Rachel’s cheeks went fluorescent, and Bec grinned.
God, she loved these woman.
Then Luke pushed through the front door, individual cartons of ice cream in a bag that he doled out to each one of them in turn, like some sexy, sweet treat bearing Santa Claus, and Bec’s cheeks actually hurt from smiling so much.
Because she fucking loved that man, too.
Twenty-One
Luke
Becky’s alarm went off, and he reached over to shut it off. Between the news of her father, her mid-evening nap, and then the girls coming over, she’d barely gotten any sleep the night before.
He hadn’t slept at all, had just held her in his arms and waited for her to pull away.