Endless Love

by Drake, Tabatha

  My heart skips even more, but the prior feeling of dread is replaced with hope.

  My family.

  Boxcar takes the other chair on my left with his giant steak burrito and a plastic spork. He quickly glances into the passing crowd, following my father’s trail, but he’s long gone now. “You okay?” he asks.

  “Yes,” I answer truthfully. “Feeling really good about that, actually.”

  He smiles as he asks the same thing he always does. “You think he’s gonna come back?”

  Usually, I answer maybe. But this time, I pause.

  “I hope so,” I say.

  Boxcar rests a comforting hand on my back. “Then, I hope so, too.” He looks at Colby on my other side, keeping his voice low. “When are we gonna tell her?” he asks.

  I consider it. He said when. Not what.

  When should we tell our daughter about our family’s darkest secrets?

  “When she’s old enough to understand,” I say.

  Boxcar nods, seemingly in agreement with that answer. “So,” his throat clears, “would now be a bad time to continue that talk from earlier?”

  I smile, biting my lip. “No, we can,” I say, entranced by the devious twinkle in his eye. “Assuming you’re of sound thought and mind.”

  He laughs. “I am.”

  “Then, what do you think? Do you want to?”

  “Do you want to?” he asks, his breath held tight.

  I gaze at our baby girl as she silently enjoys her treat. “No,” I answer.

  “No?” Boxcar repeats.

  “Not yet.”

  “Interesting.”

  “I mean, we just got her in school,” I say.

  He nods. “We did.”

  “And I’m officially a full-time student, too.”

  “And I’m up for a promotion.”

  I blink. “You are?”

  He grins. “They told me today.”

  I throw my arms around his neck. “Congratulations! That’s awesome, Box.”

  He hugs me back. “So,” he kisses my shoulder, “it sounds like we’re both a no right now.”

  “It sounds like.”

  “For now?”

  I smile as I pull away. “Yeah, for now.”

  He takes a sip from his soda. “Check in again in six months?” he asks, hopeful.

  I look at Colby again as she adorably licks hot sauce off her fingers, picturing what it would be like to see a little brother or sister sitting beside her. She came into our lives like a tidal wave. We were unprepared. Boxcar was barely employed. I was still trying to figure out who I was. However, even though we both loved her more than anything, we knew that our family wasn’t done growing yet.

  But not until we were both ready.

  “Six months,” I say with a nod. “I love you, Box.”

  He takes my hand and brings it to his lips. “I love you, too, Cal,” he says as he gives my palm a kiss.

  One little kiss and all my worries melt away. All the fear and doubt. Just like always, it doesn’t matter what life throws at us. An international terrorist organization. My father. A baby.

  We can handle it.

  As long as we’re together.

  Lucy

  I can’t do this.

  Why did I think I could do this? Why did I think I had the experience or the know-how to handle something like this?

  I’m a fraud.

  A horrible, awful, stupid fraud.

  I sit up on the bed. The window sits slightly open, curtains softly billowing as city sounds echo in from outside. It’s not nearly as comforting as the water slapping against the dock outside the lake house, but that life is far behind us.

  We’re Chicagoans now.

  And it’s all my fault.

  I glance at Dante lying on the bed beside me. His thick chest rises and falls with every careless, sleeping breath.

  What a prick.

  I exhale hard and slide out of bed, wrapping my red silk robe around my naked shoulders as I go.

  It was all my idea to come back here. Dante, being the wonderful and supportive partner he is, never questioned it. In fact, he was downright excited when I told him my idea. It wasn’t the reaction I expected. I thought he’d hesitate to leave the home he grew up in, but Dante merely smiled and said he’d left it behind before. He’d do it again for me.

  He’d leave his perfect, quiet retirement… for me.

  Big yikes.

  That was just about a year ago now. The move happened quickly after that, far quicker than either of us expected it to.

  I pause by our bedroom window and gaze out onto the street ten stories below. It has barely changed at all from the way I remember it. Skyscrapers and street vendors.

  And the world-renowned Vaughn Academy on the corner.

  To this day, I almost expect to see rubble and ashes whenever I look down there, but no. There it is, completely rebuilt from the ground up in the exact spot it sat before, ready to take on its first students, a class of two dozen young men and women from around the world who leapt at the chance to train beneath the famous Terrance Vaughn.

  Or rather, his daughter.

  That’s me.

  The fraud.

  I pace by the window, constantly peeking at the street as I wonder once again why the fuck I thought I could do this.

  I turn too quickly and stub my toe on the dresser.

  “Fuck,” I hiss in the dark.

  Real fucking graceful, fraud.

  “Lucy?”

  I flinch toward the bed as Dante props himself up on his elbows.

  “Yeah,” I murmur, flexing my bruised toe.

  “What are you doing up?” he asks.

  “Nothing,” I answer too quickly.

  “Then, come back to bed.”

  I stare at the empty space beside him, but my attention shifts right back to the academy across the street.

  “First day tomorrow,” I say.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Uh-huh?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Is that all you can say?” I ask. “Uh-huh?”

  “When half-asleep, yeah,” he says.

  I scoff. “Why aren’t you freaking out with me?”

  He slowly sits up, his little eyes focusing on me. “You’re freaking out?”

  “Yes!”

  “Why?”

  “Why?” I stutter. “Because…” I stutter some more. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this…”

  With a grunt, Dante hoists himself off the bed. “Talk you into what?” he asks.

  “Coming back here.”

  “But this was your idea.”

  “Exactly!” I throw up my hands. “Why didn’t you talk me out of it?”

  He wanders over to stand by me, the city lights gently illuminating his bare chest as he moves closer. “Because, Lucy…” I stop my eyes from going farther down his naked body, even though I kinda want them to, “it never occurred to me that I should.”

  “Never?”

  “Not for a second.” He looks out the window, his stare focused on the academy, too. “Besides, I’d never miss an opportunity to watch you dance.”

  I smile, my cheeks pinking in the shadows. “Really?”

  Dante wraps his thick arms around me and shakes me once. “Don’t tell me that badass Lucy Vaughn has stage-fright,” he teases.

  “For the first time, yeah. I think I do.” I sigh. “I don’t know if I can do this, Dante.”

  “Bullshit,” he says. “Trust me, I was right there at those auditions with you. Those kids worship the ground you heel-toe on. They’re more scared of you than you are of them — as they should be.”

  I chuckle with a quick glance at the apartment building behind the academy. We secured a few floors of it for student housing. Are they standing by their windows now, staring down at the Vaughn Academy with rapid pulses and nervous jitters?

  I hope so.

  When we first decided to re-open the academy, I thought rebuilding
it on the same spot was just a pipe dream. As luck would have it, the land was purchased several years ago by Angelo Argento. The good news is that his daughter, Trix, is an old childhood friend of mine. The bad news is that the Argento family are kinda sorta known for… well, mafia activities.

  The last thing I wanted was to involve us with the Italian mob all over again. Childhood friend or no, I wasn’t sure I could trust the Argentos. I was ready to throw in the towel and told Dante that we should go back home to Wisconsin.

  Instead, he made a call.

  Two days later, the Lutrova brothers returned to Chicago.

  “We can trust them,” Dante said.

  Turns out, after the fall of the Zappias, word spread far and wide that the Lutrova family was responsible for their demise. The Argentos made sure to make extra nice with them (you know, just in case) and the families were always looking for the right opportunity to work together. Trix thrives on good publicity and rebuilding the prestigious Vaughn Academy in Chicago was a perfect investment for the Argento family to take on.

  And Sofia loves the ballet.

  Of course, when I pointed out to Dante that this deal puts us in business with two mafia families, he merely smiled and said he didn’t care.

  “Whatever it takes to make your dreams come true, Ms. Vaughn.”

  And here we are.

  I gaze out the window at my dream come true and sigh.

  Dante nudges my chin. “What is it, Luce?” he asks.

  I swallow hard. “I just keep thinking about my dad,” I whisper. “I wish he were here to see this.”

  “I’m sure he’s still proud of you,” Dante says, kissing my forehead. “I know I am.”

  He kisses me again, this time on the lips. Soft and deep, his mouth teases mine, enticing me to kiss him back. His hands caress down my back, coming to rest on my rear beneath my robe. I smile again as he gently squeezes.

  “That won’t work,” I say.

  He chuckles against my lips. “What won’t work?”

  “You know what.”

  Dante lifts me up, cool and effortless. “I really don’t know what you mean,” he says as he carries me back to bed.

  I tremble, my body reacting as he intends it to. He sets me down and I lie back as he towers over me. I touch down his chest, relishing in the hard edges of his abs as his mouth finds mine again. I wrap my knees around him, instinctively expecting to feel pain in my right knee, but that ache is long gone now. My robe slips open as Dante kisses down my chest. I quiver, his tongue gliding between my breasts and over my belly. I comb my fingers through his hair, parting my knees even more for him as he continues down.

  “Dante…”

  “Shh.” His breath caresses my inner thigh. “No talking. Only moans from now on.”

  “I love you,” I say with a laugh.

  Dante leaves a firm kiss on my swollen bud before climbing back to my lips. “I love you,” he says, our mouths grazing. “Now, do you want me to put you to sleep or not?”

  I moan. “Yes, please.”

  One more kiss and he descends me again.

  Dante

  I walk into the academy with a smile on my face.

  The first time I came here was to kill a man. That didn’t exactly go as planned.

  The second time, it was to ask his daughter to go to dinner with me. That went very, very well.

  The third time, the halls were full of heat and smoke. We barely made it out alive. A few others did not.

  But Lucy never thought of this place as a tomb. It was always a new beginning; a place where we could forget our pasts and focus on the future together.

  My shoes echo along the floor of the lobby. I pass the front desk, receiving a kind wave from the security guard station there. He smiles at the bouquet of roses in my hand, knowing who I am and who I’ve come to lavish with attention.

  I pause in the center of the lobby. A small memorial fountain sits here, softly churning out water beneath a golden plaque listing off the names of those who died here five years ago, the great Terrance Vaughn included.

  May you always dance within our hearts, it reads.

  I take a moment to bow my head in respect before continuing down the hallway toward Lucy’s office.

  The door is open, so I let myself inside. Another smile teases my lips as I look around. While her father wasn’t much for decoration, Lucy put a lot of time into making this place hers. Her desk sits on the left side, along with a pair of chairs for the occasional meeting with an instructor or student. A stylish couch sits on the other side of the room for frequent relaxation and socializing.

  Colorful art prints hang on each wall, symbols of our various business partnerships. One is from Trix Argento, another from Sofia Lutrova, and another the two of us chose together from a dealer across the street.

  Her bookshelf is stacked with books on business and music and dance, all placed in alphabetical order by subject.

  Three photos sit on the top shelf in their frames. The first is an old photo of her and her father, smiling and happy together when she was a teenager. The second is her dancer portrait, the same one that caught my eye the night we met. The last is of the two of us standing on the dock back home with the lake house towering behind us.

  A voice echoes in from the hallway; young, light, and positively chirpy.

  Not my Lucy.

  “I just wanted to say again that I am so, so happy to be here. You have no idea. Well—” a giggle, “I mean, you probably have some idea. Oh, and—”

  I stand in place as the voice continues growing louder. Finally, Lucy appears in the doorway with a stack of files in her arms and a young woman directly behind her. The girl is stiff and petite, but her mouth just keeps moving while Lucy politely smiles through it.

  I smile at the agony in her eyes. She wears a pale pink leotard with black tights and a white skirt around her waist. Graceful. Elegant. Poised.

  That’s my Lucy.

  “Oh, hey!” Lucy loudly greets me, and the girl goes quiet. “Janey, this is my husband, Dante,” she says.

  The girl’s eyes flash with surprise. “Oh,” she says, still smiling. “It’s a pleasure.”

  I nod. “Nice to meet you.”

  “I’ll see you in the studio later, Janey,” Lucy says, hinting her away.

  “Right.” Janey steps back. “Later, Ms. Vaughn. Thank you, again. Thank you.”

  “Uh-huh. Bye, Janey.”

  Lucy slowly closes the door on her.

  I chuckle. “Big fan?” I ask.

  “The biggest,” she says, exhaling hard. “I wasn’t like that around Dani at first, was I?”

  “Nah,” I say, lying.

  Lucy deflates as she rounds the desk and plops her stack of files on top. “Oh, well,” she whispers. She looks at the bouquet in my hand and she smiles. “Are those for me?”

  I raise them up as I walk toward the desk. “Of course.”

  She takes them and brings them to her nose. “Thank you,” she says, taking a quick whiff. “They’ll look great next to Lilah’s.”

  “Lilah’s?”

  Lucy gestures over my shoulder. I turn around and spot the giant floral arrangement on the coffee table with multi-colored lilies and a stuffed bear.

  I sneer. “When did that come in?”

  “This morning. She called to wish me good luck on the first day.”

  “Well, I was going for something more… romantic.”

  “Quality over quantity?” she teases.

  I round the desk to stand beside her. “Exactly.”

  She turns her head up, angling her lips toward mine. “Well, I think you did just that.”

  “Thank you.”

  I kiss her and she grins.

  “Lilah also told me to tell you that it’s officially Thursday, which means, and this is a direct quote: na-na-nana-na.”

  I roll my eyes. “Yeah, Fox texted me. We lost the pool.”

  “You lost the pool,” she says. “I’m still v
ery much in the game.”

  “You made a separate bet?” I ask, surprised.

  “I had a good feeling!”

  “So, you bet against me?”

  “No, I gave us multiple chances to win. What’s mine is yours, Mr. Hart. Big picture.”

  “Speaking of…” I lean on the edge of her desk. “You’re telling them I’m your husband?”

  Lucy pauses. “Uh, yeah.” She blinks with doubt. “Is that okay? I can stop…”

  “No, no. It’s okay.”

  “I know we’ve never officially tied that knot, but… I just always thought of you that way, so…”

  “Did you want to make it official?” I ask. “Now that things have settled down here?”

  “Maybe.” She smiles. “What did you have in mind?”

  There’s a knock on the door. Lucy takes a quick step back.

  “Come in!” she says.

  The door opens and Kyle, one of the instructors, sticks his blond head in. “Hey, Lucy,” he says, waving a clipboard. “Duet time?”

  Lucy looks at her watch. “Shit, yes. I will be right there, Kyle. Just need two minutes.”

  “Okie-dokie.” He nods. “Hey, Dante.”

  “Hi,” I say with a wave.

  Kyle gives a quick bow and closes the door, leaving us alone.

  I watch as Lucy frantically sifts through the files on her desk. “Duet time?” I ask.

  “A little demonstration we rehearsed for the students,” she says.

  “A dance?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Can I watch?”

  Lucy abandons her files and smiles at me. “Why? You jealous?” she asks.

  “Of a guy who says okie-dokie? No.”

  She laughs. “Sure. You can watch.”

  I reach out and lay a hand on her cheek. She leans into it, briefly closing her eyes as I draw her in for another kiss. I take her hand, entwining our fingers. She kisses me back, gently sinking into my embrace against the desk.

  “Where were we again?” she asks, our lips touching.

  “Who cares?” I joke, crushing my mouth on hers.