Luke's Second Chance Family

by Francesca Lane

  Maybe because she was equally as stubborn …

  “Hey.” He reached out to her, stopping until she looked at him.

  “I know it’s been years since we’ve seen each other, really talked the way we used to, Luke. But sometimes it feels like yesterday.”

  He nodded. “I know.”

  “And yesterday, you were a champion surfer. A stubborn champion surfer.”

  Luke shook his head. “Not really. Just a guy with a stick.”

  Maggie almost smiled at his use of the old term for surfboard. She peered at him. “Why’d you quit?”

  Conflict marred his face, his gaze landing nowhere.

  “Did you think you’d fall easily for the fame again? The women?”

  Luke scoffed. “Please.”

  “Because that’s why you left the circuit, right? I mean, CeCe and Siena certainly didn’t stop you, right? From what I remember, CeCe was all about being with the reigning surf champ of Colibri Beach.”

  The words flew out of her mouth sounding far snarkier than she had planned. Not that she had planned anything …

  “This isn’t worth talking about.”

  “Oh no?” Maggie shrugged and looked out to the lapping tide. “I guess you’re right. It really was all a bunch of garbage, wasn’t it, Luke? I mean, not your skills, but the fame? The popularity? Oh and all those ridiculous girls!”

  “Stop.” Luke grabbed her hands. He was inches from her now, his breath uneven, like he had just run up a hill. “What about Rafael?”

  Maggie frowned. “Rafael? The guy with the … bod?”

  “Don’t mess with me. I know you were with him.”

  Maggie recoiled. “With him … how?”

  Luke’s eyes flittered all over her face now, and she couldn’t decide what she desired more—to fall deeply into his embrace or smack him with everything she had. Lucky for him, she still hadn’t decided.

  “You went to him. The day after I told you that CeCe was pregnant. I saw you with that guy on the beach. He was … smug.”

  The memory hit her with clarity. Luke was right. Why had she blocked this memory for so long?

  Rafael, ever-shirtless, had come upon her crying the night that Luke had shredded her heart. He dried her tears with the damp towel he’d carried home from the beach and she’d buried her face in his golden chest. It struck her now how coveted a spot that was for the girls of Colibri. But for her? Just a safe place to land.

  She and Rafael had fallen asleep on the beach that night and hours later, in the early morning hours, watched as the sunrise cast a glow upon the western sea.

  Another memory rose: her dad. Her father had been livid that she had been out all night. So what if she was over eighteen? “Did you spend the night with that guy?” he’d said, nearly accusing her of something that was, to him, unthinkable.

  If only he really knew all that had happened …

  One look at her mother, though, and the truth came out—with a bucketful of tears to wash it down. Though she didn’t see it herself, she surmised that her mother had silenced her father with one look. And then her mother had spent the rest of the morning listening to Maggie’s cries and teenaged torment over Luke’s sudden predicament—and dismissal of her.

  “Maggie, did you hear me?” Luke stood there, his face screwed up into some self-righteous expression.

  She blinked. “Did I hear you what? Accuse me of looking for solace after you threw away everything we had?”

  Luke sputtered.

  How dare he throw shade at her? After what he’d done, who cared who she might have—and might not have—found sympathy from?

  Maggie stopped in place. It didn’t matter that they had traveled light years since those days of heartache and confusion. She had made the best decision she felt equipped to make at the time, the decision she thought was best for everyone, including Luke.

  And now, these ten years later, she had already weathered the pain of a difficult marriage and single motherhood. Maggie could hold her head up—this she knew. Her parents had trained her well. She was resilient. And she wasn’t about to let anyone—even Luke—try to take that away from her.

  Nine

  Luke tapped his pencil repeatedly on the front counter in his shop, while Siena sat on a stool nearby, idly reading a book about a garden with secrets. She’d pulled her hair up into some kind of bun with all kinds of curls coming out of it. It looked nice.

  The morning traffic had been brisk as tourist season had kicked in with full force. Guys and girls milled about, but it was the boys he wanted to corral and knock sense into. He wanted to tell them to keep a cool head when it came to girls, that he understood the rush of testosterone, the thrill of appreciation, and the victory of … well, maybe he oughta keep some things to himself.

  If he could give them one piece of advice, it was to think before acting, listen before speaking.

  If only he had followed his own advice with Maggie. He hung his head and tried to focus on work. Though he continued to stare at the order sheet on the counter, he couldn’t see or concentrate on any of it. He had blown it. Again. He had asked Maggie to walk with him, hoping to explore her feelings for him. Instead, he’d stubbornly refused to answer a question she had asked him in earnest.

  And then he had spun the conversation to her choices. He rubbed the back of his neck, a simmering anger tightening his nerves. He still seethed thinking about seeing Maggie with that guy. Knowing that Maggie was forever linked to Rafael made him break out in a sweat.

  “Hey, boss,” Carlos said, breaking his self-loathing. “How much for the shorts?”

  Luke snapped a look up, still unseeing. He squinted. “Uh. Not marked?”

  “Nope.”

  He rubbed his eyes. “Hang on a second.” Quickly he pulled the pricing sheet he kept under the counter. Old school, but it worked for him. He relayed the price to Carlos, who returned to the customer. Luke sighed. In some ways, this mental tussle over a girl that kept him from doing things as he ought reminded him of growing up more than just about anything else.

  Luke glanced at the calendar. Maggie and Eva’s departure was days away, and from what he had picked up in snippets of conversation, the house would be sold as soon as summer ended. Maybe what had gone down was for the best. They could chalk up their argument to what it was: a disagreement between old friends.

  But then, why did he feel like he had taken a pounding like rocks into sand?

  Maybe he should tell her about his … mishap. He rubbed the scar over his lip, bringing on a slice of phantom pain.

  Luke pressed his mouth into a grim line. Some things were not worth reliving, no matter how many times he’d heard it could be cathartic. He didn’t want to take that chance. Then again, the accident led to decisions that CeCe could never accept.

  Even after you got me, you wanted Maggie.

  The words she spat at him after signing the divorce papers resurfaced in his consciousness, but he had to come to terms with his part, if any, in CeCe’s decline. He looked across the shop to the teens in the corner watching an unending loop of surf footage on a flat screen. They could be anywhere but here today—looking at their phones, hiding under the covers, out causing trouble—but they were here. A safe place that played homage to a quintessential beach town sport.

  “Dad?” Siena stared up at him, eyes sparkling.

  “Hm?”

  “Could you put some things on your order list for me?”

  He held his smile back by pursing his lips. He had no idea what she wanted, but figured it would be something electronic. With a screen. “What is it, kiddo?”

  “I need some smoothing cream for my flyaway hair. And a wet brush.”

  “A wet brush?”

  “You know, for brushing my hair when it’s wet so it won’t get all tangly. Oh, and could you get me a bag of elastics so I can braid my hair?”

  He grinned. His little surf girl never seemed to do anything but shake her wet hair after a shower or time
in the ocean. A pang of regret caught him in the windpipe. Maybe he should have investigated what was out there for her. Never crossed his mind.

  “Sure, honey. I’ll add those things to my order when I’m online later.”

  “You could always ask Maggie for help,” she said, with a shrug. “She knows stuff about that.”

  Maggie. Of course. Siena had been spending so much time over there that she’d picked up some tips from her. Maybe from Eva, too.

  Luke turned slightly so Siena could not see emotion building on his face. Maybe it was time to stop blaming himself for CeCe’s … disappointment. He’d done the very best he could with few instructions. Now, he had the chance to right some wrongs for both him—and for Siena.

  Friendship was a start, but Luke knew he wanted something more with Maggie. He determined to tell her—and soon.

  Maggie spent the next few days on the phone. In between trimming Lea’s bangs, washing and setting Wren’s hair, and touching up paint all over the beach house, she had finalized a rental apartment in exactly the place she wanted to be. The complex had a pool, laundry, a workout room (woo-hoo!), and it was walking distance to Eva’s school. Well, a long walk, but still.

  She owed undying gratitude to Jake, who had agreed to co-sign for her. He had, of course, offered to just buy the whole darn building—she was sure that was said in jest—but independence was important to Maggie. Not just for herself, but she also wanted to model that for Eva.

  And best of all, she had an interview with an absolutely perfect salon with tons of walk-in traffic right near the town square. As the days sped toward Lacy’s arrival, everything was falling into place. Bella should have been the one to take her month at the house, but she couldn’t get away from work. Who knew selling essential oils was so lucrative? Thankfully, Lacy had agreed to step in. Maggie’s shoulders relaxed just thinking about it—Lacy didn’t relent on hardly anything. She would stage the house and Bella would do the final deep clean.

  It had all been decided.

  She eyed the bathroom cabinet, thankful that Jake had decided to leave it when he updated the room. Like just about everyone had commented, it was a beautiful piece and she held a fleeting thought, hoping that the future owners would not discard it. And knowing they probably would.

  Maggie sighed. She bent down on her haunches and flung open the doors. Inside was surprisingly clean, though the contact paper her mother used had faded beyond recognition. She reached in, pulling out old cleaning solutions, wayward sponge rollers—they reminded her of her mother—and pried a few bobby pins off of the cabinet’s floor. A curled up slip of paper was beyond her grasp, so she stretched as hard as she could to retrieve it. The surface felt rough in her hands. She pulled it out and sat back on her heels.

  “Eva? Come here!” Maggie called down the hall.

  “What’s up?”

  “Look.” Maggie held up the uncurled document to her.

  Eva took it and scrunched her face. “Ew. What is this?”

  Maggie reached for it and took a long look at it again. “I think it’s supposed to be you and a cat.”

  “Doesn’t look like a cat. Why’s all that glitter on it?”

  “Well, it was your three-year-old version of one. And the glitter’s there because you loved the stuff.”

  “Me?”

  Maggie giggled. “You made it for Grandma and I sent it to her.”

  Eva laughed a little. “I guess she didn’t like it very much since she hid it in that cabinet.”

  “Oh contraire! She loved your drawings. I bet she loved this one especially because you made it just for her. And …”

  “And what?”

  “Well, you really, really, REALLY wanted her to buy you a kitty cat.”

  “I don’t like them much anymore.”

  Maggie snickered. “I know.”

  Eva looked at the picture again. She threw her head back suddenly and exhaled a high-pitched laugh. “This cat sorta looks like a man—look at its big nose!”

  Maggie smiled, though she felt a check of something inside of her. Eva’s laugh, the one she’d heard many times, was reminiscent of … Luke’s laugh. Why hadn’t she noticed it before?

  Eva shook her head and began walking away. “I was a weird kid, Mom.”

  Still on her knees, Maggie leaned through the doorway and called down the hall. “Not true!” She continued to hear Eva’s high-pitched laugh as she traipsed back to her room.

  Maggie closed her eyes and rolled onto her bum. She leaned against the wall and looked more closely at the drawing, an old memory coming into view. Was this a drawing of a cat? Or … a man? Somewhere in the watery past, she recalled Eva asking about her father. Mick had been long gone by then, chased away by his own inability to make good on his promise.

  She heard Eva’s three-year-old voice in her head. “This is me, mommy,” she said.

  “And who is that with you?”

  Eva thought. “He’s my … daddy! I put glitter on him!”

  Maggie returned to the present and shut her eyes. Small similarities between Eva and Luke rolled through her mind like an old film strip. The way they both liked pistachio ice cream. Yuck, by the way. The on-off curb hopping when they walked down the sidewalk. And that silly laugh. She hung her head, trying not to hyperventilate.

  Of course, some of her sisters laughed like that, especially when tipsy. So maybe that wasn’t exactly an indicator of his parentage? Oh … but that dark hair. Between hair bleach and the sun’s own natural lightening powers, even she had been fooled. She huffed out a sarcastic laugh, wondering why it had never occurred to her how much Eva favored Luke.

  She knew she was leaving, but somehow, it felt premature. But what had she thought would happen when she came schlepping back to town with her sweet daughter? Surely people could do the math and at least suspect that Luke was Eva’s father.

  Her sisters hadn’t, though. As far as she knew.

  Maggie groaned out a sigh. For just a moment, she imagined life as it could be if unencumbered by a secret. And a lie. And past hurts.

  Despite the cost, Maggie realized, it was time—past time—to tell Luke the truth. She had to. She pulled herself up to her feet and glanced into the mirror, her own expression mottled with uncertainty. Telling Luke was the right thing to do. But in doing so, she could lose him forever.

  She would have to take that chance.

  Maybe he should have called first. Luke stood on the front porch of the Morelli house, reliving his childhood. How many times had he stood in this very place, his hair combed back, his posture straight, and knocked on the old wooden screen door. Maggie’s dad could severely injure a guy’s spirit with one bend of his evil, fatherly gaze. In some ways, he had the man to thank for his ability to look his elders in the eye and carry on a decent conversation.

  He rapped on the door with his knuckles.

  Eva appeared and attempted to peer past him. “Hi Luke. Is Siena with you?”

  Why hadn’t he thought about the fact that what he wanted to talk about would have to be done in private?

  “Hey, Eva. Sorry—not this time.”

  She shrugged. “You want to come in?”

  “Yes, if your mom’s here.”

  She opened the door wide and stood back. “She’s in the bathroom.”

  Luke stopped. “I’ll wait, uh, in the living room.”

  Eva quirked a look up at him. A smile dawned on her face, followed by raucous, contagious laughter. “It’s ’cause she’s been painting it!”

  “Oh. Right.”

  Eva rolled her eyes, still laughing. “Come on. I’ll show you.”

  They found Maggie standing in the large master bathroom staring into space. She yelped when he appeared in the doorway.

  “Sorry if I scared you,” Luke said. He noticed the drawn, pale expression on her face. “Busy?”

  She put a palm to her chest, as if steadying herself. “I-I’m—no. Not anymore. Was just thinking about you, actually.”


  He leaned his head to the side, lowering his voice. “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  Luke sent a quick glance down the hall, aware of how voices carried. “It’s a perfect day outside. What to check it out?”

  “Luke Hunter, when is it never a perfect day at the beach?”

  He laughed gently. “I hear you. But”—he slid his gaze toward the open doorway—“was thinking maybe we could talk in private.”

  Maggie nodded, though he noticed a momentary hesitation. They headed down the hall toward the back porch, his mind toggling between how different today was compared to the many times he had taken this same walk as a teen.

  Maggie put her hand on the door and turned back. “Eva? Luke and I’ll be outside.”

  Eva called back, “Okay!”

  Outside, trails of clouds stretched across the sky, translucent enough to let sunlight pour through. The old tattered umbrella that the Morelli family once had on this porch was long gone, as was most of the furniture, save a couple of rickety chairs. It struck Luke how much he missed the way things were.

  He leaned his forearms on the wooden rail, glad that it had been pummeled smooth over time. “Do you remember when we used to get up early and go out to the sand?”

  “Hm. I do. Was fun. A whole bunch of us would do it—even Lacy, sometimes. My dad yelled at me one year when he realized that our sleeping bags were heavy because they were full of sand.”

  Luke laughed. “I’d forgotten about the sleeping bags!”

  “That’s because you were out in the surf.” She shook her head. “I was always so proud of you for getting out there so early. I couldn’t do it.”

  “Hence, the sleeping bag on the beach.”

  Her mouth curled into a small smile. “It was cold.”

  “Life wasn’t very complicated back then, was it?”

  Maggie sighed, like she was thinking.

  Luke eyed her. “Was that me waxing poetic?”

  She laughed lightly. “I haven’t heard anyone use that term since my mom. She read a lot of books.”

  “My mom did too.”

  “Ah. But to your question, yes, life was less complicated when we were here, but the rest of the time it was pretty unusual.”