Love Story

by Lauren Layne

  I can do anything.

  I like working with grapes, yes. I like making wine, definitely. I’m damn good at it. I could also be better. With a little time, effort, and energy, I could be the best.

  What’s your endgame?

  My endgame’s always been the same.

  Lucy Hawkins is my endgame.

  I reach out to pull the flyer off the bulletin board, and then I remember that her being my everything does not make me hers.

  Idiot.

  My arm drops, and I turn back to the counter to get the sandwich.

  The girl’s watching me as I approach, leaning forward onto the counter as I reach for the bag. “Looking for something?” she asks, nodding her head in the direction of the bulletin board.

  I shrug. “New in town. Looking for a place to stay.”

  “Well that’s convenient. Because I’m in the market for a roommate.”

  The girl’s smile is slow and maybe a little flirtatious. Belatedly I realize that she’s probably cute, borderline hot, and I haven’t noticed. I don’t really care, and that makes me all the more angry at Lucy and her careless words.

  I keep seeing her handwriting over and over in my mind. Line after line intended to rip out my heart.

  Falling for Reece the first time was the dumbest thing I could ever do. Doing it again would be certifiably insane.

  What the hell am I supposed to do with a guy who doesn’t seem to have even an ounce of fight in him?

  Reece is damn lucky he’s so good in bed, because he’s got exactly zero boyfriend potential.

  No matter how many times I force myself to replay the words, the pain won’t lessen.

  I need to move on. I need to clean the wound, no matter how painful.

  I force a slow smile, leaning forward and matching the sandwich girl’s posture as I press against the counter. “Tell me about this roommate situation.”

  Chapter 38

  Lucy

  “See you Monday, Helen,” I say, slinging my bag over my shoulder and pausing in the door of my new boss’s office.

  The pretty blonde looks up from her laptop and smiles. “You too. Got anything fun planned?”

  “Nah,” I say, forcing a smile. “Just finishing settling in.”

  “Ah. Moving’s the worst,” she says with an understanding nod. “You almost done?”

  “Nearly!” I don’t tell her that I’ve been unpacked for days. That mostly I’ve been passing the time by rearranging things needlessly while trying not to think about Reece.

  It’s been more than week since he discarded me without so much as a look back or a text goodbye.

  I figure I’ll give him a couple more days before chasing him down at his new workplace, but I keep holding on to the hope that he’ll reach out to me.

  That hope’s fading fast.

  I wave goodbye to Helen, say goodbye to a couple of my other new colleagues as I step out into the summer sunshine. Napa’s everything I want it to be. So’s the new job. Mostly I’ve been training, shadowing everyone, learning everything there is to know about Chateau St. Magrit branding.

  And then there are the fun parts: tasting, learning the nuances, learning which labels are selling well, and which need a little bit of repositioning in the marketplace.

  It’s absolutely everything that I envisioned, right down to the sunny little office just off the main tasting room. I’ve already decorated it with the inspirational quotes that used to fuel me.

  The damn quotes have been failing me lately.

  Everything’s failing me. Because everything I thought I wanted isn’t what I want the most.

  I drop into the driver’s seat, the familiar sight of Horny reminding me, as it always does, of those two weeks with Reece. I alternate between missing him like crazy and hating his guts for being an emotional moron. Look, I get that guys can be weird with their feelings sometimes, and that talking it out doesn’t come naturally.

  But my guy? He’s set the bar really low on the communication front.

  I pull out my phone to look up a decent pizza place, feeling very much like I’ve earned a slice of pepperoni and a glass of the nice zin I’m supposed to be developing a tasting note for.

  Unsurprisingly, there’s no text from Reece. I’ve almost trained myself not to hope for it.

  There are, however, two texts from Craig, and I frown in confusion.

  The first text: Spock. You didn’t get it from me.

  The second is an address in El Verano, California.

  I wrinkle my nose. What? I don’t even know where that is.

  A quick search on my Maps app shows me that it’s near Sonoma, but why my brother would be sending me there…

  Unless…

  A couple days ago, in desperation, I texted Craig, asking if he knew how I could get ahold of his idiot best friend who wasn’t answering my calls. If he doesn’t know what went down between me and Reece, my text has probably gotten him wondering, but I don’t care.

  I don’t care about anything except the idiot who ran away from the best thing either of us has ever known.

  Craig didn’t reply.

  Until now.

  “Brother, I love you,” I mutter to myself, as I quickly get driving directions to the address Craig provided.

  Getting around the area on a Friday afternoon is no easy feat with the weekenders coming into town for a couple days of winery-hopping, and by the time the GPS gets me to my destination, I’m practically shaking with anticipation.

  It’s a tiny blue house on a quiet street. A little run down, but a little charming too. There’s a white Honda and a beat-up blue truck taking up all the driveway space, so I park on the street, and, heart hammering, I make my way to the front door, which is…

  Open.

  Just a crack, but enough for me to hear masculine laughter.

  Familiar laughter.

  My heart seizes. Reece.

  Before I can think better of it, I nudge the door open and step inside, my heart pounding in anticipation. In hindsight, I probably should have come up with a plan, but then I remember that I’m not the one who has some explaining to do.

  I’m not the one who ran away.

  I follow the sound of his voice, my heart quickening in a different, more dangerous way when I register that it’s not just his voice.

  There’s a female voice too, high and a little giggly.

  I should be braced for the sight. After what happened with Abby all those years ago, I really should be prepared.

  But somehow, I’m not.

  And the sight of Reece in a kitchen laughing with another girl, who’s standing far too close, nearly breaks me. He’s in the middle of eating whatever’s in the bowl he’s holding. I watch in agony as she reaches up and wipes a thumb across his lips, as though it’s her right to touch him.

  And he doesn’t seem to mind.

  What’s weird is that this moment is far more innocent than the one I’d walked in on when I was eighteen, and yet this one hurts so much more.

  I can’t make a single noise, I can’t even breathe, and I put a protective hand to my stomach as though trying to physically push away the shock.

  My gesture captures Reece’s attention, and his blue gaze swings around until it lands on me, his eyes widening in shock, then regret, and then, almost deliberately, defiance. As though daring me to care that he’s alone in another house with another woman.

  Dare accepted, Reece. I care. I care.

  The girl senses the tension and quickly turns around, and I register that she’s ridiculously pretty. She lets out a little squeak of surprise when she sees me. “Who are you? What are you doing in our house?”

  Our house. Jesus.

  I want to run. I need to run. But I did that last time, and it did not work out well. Instead I stand my ground and force myself to take a deep breath. “Yeah, Reece? Who am I?”

  He lifts a shoulder. “Lucy, this is my new roommate. Pam, Lucy. My best friend’s little sister.”
<
br />   I let out a crazed laugh, not sure which one hurts more. The fact that he’s living with this girl when he can’t even be bothered to send me a text message, or the fact that I’ve just been deliberately, summarily dismissed as Craig’s sister.

  He couldn’t be more clear. We’re nothing to each other, connected only by an annoying tie to his best friend and my brother.

  I don’t cry. Thank God, I don’t cry.

  Instead I lift my chin and sadly meet his eyes. “You win, Reece. I give up, and you win.”

  Chapter 39

  LUCY, EIGHTEEN, REECE, NINETEEN

  “Reece?” Lucy called, knocking once before opening the front door to the tiny house where Reece and his dad lived. “I got your text. Sorry I’m late.”

  No response. Lucy stuck her head into the kitchen, making sure that Reece’s dad wasn’t there with his usual beer in hand. Nope. Must still be at work.

  Lucy pushed away the thought that wondered how long Jeff Sullivan would keep this job.

  “Reece?” Lucy asked again, heading down the dark hallway with its ugly yellowed carpet that led to Reece’s bedroom.

  His door was open a crack, and Lucy gave it a push, an expectant smile already on her face. She’d thought they could grab something to eat, but if they had the house to themselves…

  Maybe they could have a repeat of last night.

  Lucy was confident she’d be better at it the second time. Not that the first time had been anything less than perfect.

  Her thoughts scattered as she tried to process the scene in her head.

  Reece.

  Not alone.

  A blond girl was plastered against him, her hands cupping his face as Lucy had the night before, and the girl was making breathy moaning noises as they kissed.

  Lucy let out a choked noise, and Reece and the girl broke apart.

  The blonde spun around, revealing the all too familiar face of Abby Mancuso.

  “Oh hi, Lucy!” Abby said with a sheepish smile. “It’s nice to see you again.”

  That hurt the worst. That Abby didn’t even have a clue that Lucy and Reece were together. Nobody did.

  Because they weren’t anything.

  Lucy forced herself to meet Reece’s eyes, wondering if there was anything he could possibly say to make this okay.

  But it didn’t occur to her that he wouldn’t say anything. He just stared at her.

  “Reece?” she whispered.

  His gaze flickered then, but instead of coming toward her, he drove the knife deeper.

  He reached for Abby, his hand touching his ex-girlfriend’s waist protectively.

  Lucy’s eyes filled, and without a word, she turned on her heels and ran.

  It wasn’t until she’d climbed into her car and was driving away at full speed that it hit her that he hadn’t even tried to come after her.

  Chapter 40

  Reece

  I catch up with Lucy just as she’s wrenching open Horny’s driver’s-side door.

  “Hold up,” I say, grabbing her arm and pulling her around before she can climb into the car. “What do you mean I ‘win’?”

  Her eyes are wild and shining with tears as she glares at me. “I mean your grand plan of pushing me out of your life, it’s finally worked. You nearly did it with Abby all those years ago. You made good progress by shutting me out completely without even telling me why. But this? Hooking up with your roommate? Nail in coffin, congrats.”

  Her voice is so full of pain I nearly pull her close. And annoyingly, I feel a strange sense of panic, even as I tell myself this is what I want. To be done with her.

  It’s on the tip of my tongue to explain that I’m not hooking up with Pam. Hell, I don’t even like my new roommate. She’s like a predatory cat, either ignoring or simply oblivious to the fact that I’m not interested.

  I don’t tell Lucy this.

  “How’d you even find me?” I ask.

  “What, that wasn’t part of your plan?” she asks snidely. “I’m surprised you didn’t tell Craig to text me so I’d walk in on your cozy little domestic scene.”

  I look away, and she lets out a choked laugh. “I was joking. Did you…are you kidding me? Is that why the door was open?”

  “The door was open because the lock’s busted and it doesn’t say shut. I wouldn’t—”

  I break off before I can finish the thought. I wouldn’t do that.

  Except I have. I’ve done exactly what she’s accusing me of.

  And damn Lucy for knowing me so well, because she catches it. I watch in misery as she puts the pieces together.

  “You have done that,” she breathes out in shock. “Oh my God. With Abby…you set that up?”

  I run a hand over my face. “It was a long time ago, Lucy. Let’s forget it.”

  “I’ve been trying to forget it. But every time I close my eyes, I see you kissing Abby—”

  “No,” I say so abruptly that she takes a step back.

  “What do you mean, no? I know what I saw.”

  “You saw what you wanted to see. Hell, you saw what I wanted you to see.”

  She lets out a disbelieving laugh. “You wanted me to catch you kissing her?”

  I roll my shoulders. “Hell, Lucy. I don’t want to do this. I’ve been trying to avoid this.”

  “I don’t give a crap.” She steps forward, eyes blazing. “I want the truth. I want to know what happened. I want the other piece of the puzzle. Why you’ve never apologized for cheating.”

  “I didn’t cheat,” I roar with so much force that I swear the doors rattle.

  She steps back now, stunned and angry. “How can you say that?”

  I rest my chin against my chest for a moment before I lift it, looking her square in the eyes.

  Let’s do this.

  “I freaked out after what happened with us that night, Lucy. I shouldn’t have slept with you. I knew it the entire summer, but you were so damn sweet, and I needed you so damn much…”

  “So you called…Abby?” she asks incredulously.

  “Yes,” I say with an honesty that’s oddly freeing. “But not for the reason you think. I told her to come over, yes, but I knew you were coming over. I wanted you to see us together.”

  She laughs, and my gut twists when I realize she’s crying at the same time. “So I was right. You’re a bastard.”

  “No,” I say, reaching out a hand, then letting it drop. “I mean yes, but it didn’t go as planned. I wanted you to see me and Abby talking, not…”

  “Making out?” she says snidely.

  “Abby misinterpreted my call,” I say, even as I realize how lame it sounds. “Which I guess I let her, being an idiot kid like I was. But I swear to you, I never laid a hand on Abby that night except to push her away.”

  She snorts, and the sound is all watery. “I saw you kissing her.”

  “Her kissing me,” I say with such finality that she goes still. “Abby kissed me right as you walked in, but I swear to you I didn’t want her for even a second. Nobody…there’s nobody I wanted after I had you.”

  “Then why?” she whispers. “Why would you want to push me away?”

  Fuck all. “Because you were leaving. Damn it, Lucy, you’re always leaving. You were heading to college, and you had all these fucking dreams, and…”

  “Wait. All of this crap, back then and now…this is you leaving before I can leave you?”

  I swallow. “I’m not proud of the way I did it, but I don’t regret it.”

  She shakes her head. “How can you say that? You stand there pretending you were all noble but you almost destroyed me!”

  “For how long, an hour?” I ask, my voice angry now, stepping forward. “Maybe a couple more weeks until you went to college, sulking about the loss of your cherry to a cheating jerk?”

  “Longer than that!” she shouts, equally angry. “I loved you! You knew that, and you used it against me.”

  Her proclamation rocks through me, but I don’t let it sink in. I
can’t handle it. “Maybe, Lucy. Maybe. But you got over me.”

  “Because I had to, but it wasn’t easy, and it wasn’t—”

  “It was easy!” he snaps. “It took you, what, six months before you found someone else? That skinny redhead with the douchebag glasses?”

  She stares at me in confusion, and it seems to take her a full ten seconds to even register what I’m talking about. “Are you seriously throwing Matt Terry at me right now? The guy I dated for all of fifteen seconds? I caught you cheating on me, what was I supposed to do, wait around for a second chance at heartache?”

  “No,” I say, lifting my hands and pressing them to my temples, then letting them drop again. “No, I didn’t want you to wait at all. I never wanted…I never thought we’d get tangled up again. We only proved what I knew back then.”

  “Which is what?”

  “We’re no good together, Lucy. You’re…you’re vivacious and driven and you always want more. You’re always looking to the next thing.”

  She tries to set a hand on my chest, but I step away, and her face flinches in hurt, but she presses on. “Look, Reece, I was eighteen and probably not that great at expressing myself. I wanted to go to college, yes, I wanted to be all things, and do all things, but you were always one of them. I’m sorry if I ever let you think otherwise. Truly.”

  “Maybe,” I say quietly. “But you know better now, right? You know now that I’m a summer fling, and better in bed but not boyfriend material?”

  “What are you—” Her mouth drops open. “Wait. Wait. Tell me you didn’t read my journal.”

  I shove my hands in my pockets and stare at her, so buried in my own pain that I don’t see the slap coming.

  The crack of her palm against my cheek echoes between us, but the sadness in her eyes hurts a hell of a lot more than the slap itself.

  “That’s why you pulled back,” she says with a disbelieving laugh. “You read my rambling, angry, private thoughts in a stupid notebook and decided to base our entire future on what you read there.”

  “We don’t have a future, Lucy.”

  “Only because you’re too chickenshit.”