LUCIEN: A Standalone Romance

by Glenna Sinclair

  I didn’t know what to say. She stood and came around the table, taking my arm as she tugged me out of my seat. “Let’s go walk those delicious pastries off.”

  “Mother, are you sure you should—”

  She waved a hand at Miles. “I want to get to know your young wife, Miles. Let us be, will you?”

  I glanced back at him, as she led the way into the garden. He looked deeply concerned, but so did Lila and Keegan as they watched us. What was it they were so worried about? Surely they didn’t think I would say something to upset her, did they? I may have been a wife of convenience, but I wasn’t a complete idiot. I knew how to be polite.

  The garden was terraced, not unlike the much smaller version in the backyard of the house I currently shared with Miles. We made our way down the first level, stepping into the second and its wild abandon of native plants. Cranberries and azaleas, honeysuckle and Mountain Laurels filled this space, the vibrant colors awe inspiring, even this late in the summer. I reached out to touch the petals of a marigold, causing Elena to chuckle softly under her breath.

  “Ironic that my son should marry the only person to appreciate this garden almost as much as myself.”

  “Why is that ironic?”

  “Because I could never get him out here when he was a child. He said it was boring to pick weeds and plant new seedlings.”

  I thought about the half-completed garden back in Texas, and I could see that. As much as he wanted to emulate what his mother had done here, he’d lost interest somewhere along the way. And that suggested a complicated relationship with his mother. And it made me want to get to know her all that much better.

  “He cares a great deal for you.”

  I glanced at her. “You think so?”

  “The way his face lights up when he talks of you tells me so much more than anything he might have said over the phone would have.”

  I tried to imagine Miles’ face lighting up, but couldn’t quite get there. “He’s complicated.”

  “He is. He hasn’t exactly had it easy. His father was always much too hard on him.”

  “I suppose that’s something father’s do.”

  “It is. But Jackson was always harder on Miles than either Robert or Lila. And that took a toll.” She squeezed my arm a little as she slowed the pace. “Lila is the eldest, but Miles was the first son. Jackson thought he was preparing the boy to take over his business as his father had failed to do with him. But what he was really doing was pushing him away.”

  I remembered Miles’ comment about how he went to law school but never took the bar because it was what his father wanted. The more I heard about Mr. Thorn, the more I was interested in meeting this man who could bring out that rebellious streak in Miles.

  “It breaks my heart when I think about it.”

  Elena’s voice seemed to be growing weaker with every step we took, and our pace had slowed quite significantly since we stepped onto the lower terrace. I had thought she’d slowed to enjoy the flowers, but now she was dragging on my arm so hard that it was obvious the movement was just too much for her. I saw a stone bench a few feet away, so I carefully directed her there.

  “Thank you,” she said softly as she settled down, sliding over a little to make room for me.

  “What is it?”

  “Ovarian cancer.”

  I’d expected her to say something like an infection or anemia or something innocuous that wasn’t life threatening. But she said cancer like it was innocuous, like it didn’t really matter.

  I was at a completely loss for words. All I could say was, “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” she said, touching my knee lightly. “It’s been a long battle that I’m glad Miles wasn’t here to watch. But I’m content with my situation now.”

  I wondered if this was why we were here, why I was here. Had Miles known his mother was ill when he asked me to marry him? Was this part of the reason why he needed a wife so quickly? Was it something to do with appeasing his mother, of showing her that he was settling down and had found contentment in his life? Or was there more to it, something a little more nefarious than that? Was he after some sort of inheritance, or something?

  I hated to have such dark thoughts about Miles. But, really, what did I know about him?

  “All three of my children are settled down now,” she said somewhat breathlessly. “My husband is mellower. Perhaps he’ll make it easier for Miles to accept his apology and come home. This whole construction thing is just a rebellion, his way of showing his father he can do well on his own. Now that he has done that, perhaps they can put things to rest and return to the way things should have been.”

  “What is that?”

  Elena shrugged. “Miles was always supposed to learn the business at his father’s side and then become the CEO one day. He went to law school to help him become a better business man, and to open the door to politics if he ever wanted to go in that direction. But then this whole mess began when Claire walked into his life, and then the whole fiasco with Robert…” Elena shook her head. “I can’t blame Miles for leaving. Who would want to see your future unfolding for someone else? At least he found something better than what that girl brought to the table.”

  What would she think if she knew the truth? But the picture she was painting was a sad one; it made me see Miles in a new light. Maybe he wasn’t such a bad guy, after all.

  Elena squeeze my knee. “I think I’d like to go up and lie down now. Would you help me back to the house?”

  “Of course.”

  Chapter 8

  There was a party that night. I didn’t realize it until Lila mentioned something about it halfway through lunch. Not only was there to be a party, but apparently, Miles and I were the guests of honor.

  I dressed slowly, more conscious of my humble upbringing in those moments than I ever had been before. I couldn’t get Elena out of my thoughts, how gracious and beautiful she was even as she fought a fatal illness. And Lila. She was funny and sensitive and kind, her eyes often moving over Miles’ face as we lounged together over lunch. She was clearly worried about him, and I felt as though she was looking to me for some sort of sign that he was okay, but I didn’t know how to give her that. I barely knew this man I called my husband, and what I did know, I’d learned just that morning from his mother. How was I supposed to reassure her when I didn’t even know what it was she was worried about in the first place?

  I heard the bedroom door open, and I stood, glancing in the mirror one last time before I stepped out of the bathroom. Miles was sitting on the edge of the loveseat, sliding his tennis shoes off as I came into the room. I must have made a sound because he looked up and that expressionless mask he wore most of the time slipped slightly, showing something like interest, as his took in the mermaid-style gown I was wearing.

  “Lila said it was black tie, and this is all I brought that’s really formal.”

  He cleared his throat, as his attention turned back to his shoes. “You look fine.”

  “Are there going to be a lot of people at this party?”

  “My parents don’t have a party without inviting the entire who’s who list from Boston. It will be quite a crowd.”

  That idea made my heart jump into my throat. I turned away and nearly tripped over the hem of my dress, as I made my way back to the bathroom. I barely caught myself on the door jamb. And then Miles was there, his hands snaking around my waist.

  “Sorry,” he said against my ear, “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “No, I just…that’s a lot of strangers to meet in one night.”

  “You’ll be fine. Just stay by my side.”

  I nodded, leaning into him for a second. Why did it feel so good to be in his arms? Why did feel so perfect? It was like his body was made for mine. Or maybe it was mine that’d been made for his. Either way, we seemed to fit together like two puzzle pieces that had been separated for far too long. I felt it every time we touched, like my body was crying out for
that connection, that completion.

  It was stupid, really. He wasn’t mine. He never would be.

  I pulled away and slipped into the bathroom, avoiding my reflection in the mirror.

  We walked into the sitting room, hand-in-hand, forty minutes later. The room was already filled from wall to wall, even though the official start to the party was only fifteen minutes before our arrival. Miles squeezed my hand as though saying, Here we go. We moved into the room, and we were quickly surrounded, names being thrown around like popcorn at a viewing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show. I tried to keep up and tried to remember each name, but it was nearly impossible. Whenever I was forced to speak to someone directly and couldn’t remember their name, Miles was kind enough to whisper it in my ear. That was the only way I could get through it.

  Champagne was flowing from a small fountain on the veranda, and waiters and waitresses were filling glasses and passing them out by the hundreds. I had a few, I’m not ashamed to admit. I needed something to keep my nerves under control. The only time I felt completely at ease was the brief moment as we stepped onto the veranda and the band began playing Sinatra’s “The Way You Look Tonight”. Miles pulled me into his arm and moved into an impromptu spin, making me laugh as he dropped me into a quick dip. He laughed, too, and the beauty of that made something inside of me melt away. But then he lifted me up, and I saw Claire Watson—Thorn, now, I supposed—walk into the sitting room on the arm of a man who could be Miles’ twin.

  Miles saw my expression change, and he glanced over his shoulder, tension rushing through his body so quickly that he might have broken my fingers if he hadn’t dropped my hand in that same instant.

  He turned and rushed toward the approaching couple, a darkness like nothing I’d ever seen before washing over his face.

  “Miles,” I said, grabbing at his tuxedo jacket.

  He didn’t pause; he didn’t even seem to hear me. I searched the room for Lila, a little relieved to see that she was headed in our direction, too, honest fear written in her movements. I reached for Miles again, managing to grab the back of his jacket as he came face to face with his brother.

  “You have a lot of nerve showing up here.”

  “This is my home, too, if you’ll recall.”

  Miles glared at his brother. “This party is for me, for my wife. You shouldn’t be here.”

  “Maybe I just came to wish you congrats, big brother,” he said, a snide tone to his voice as his eyes shifted and landed on me. “And this must be the blushing bride.”

  Without looking at me, Miles slid his arm across my waist and pulled me back behind him. “Don’t look at her,” he said. “Don’t even look at her.”

  Robert’s eyebrows rose. He began to speak, but Claire moved up beside him, efficiently sliding between the two men.

  “Let’s go say hello to you mother, darling,” she said in a high-pitched voice that was nothing like the confident tones Lisa and I had imagined she had.

  “That sounds like a good idea,” Lila said, sliding up beside Miles. “She’s out on the veranda.”

  Robert looked from his sister to his brother, a defiant light burning in his eyes. “I guess we can finish this later, brother.”

  “It is finished.”

  Robert slid his arm around Claire’s waist and moved away. Claire looked back, as I moved around Miles, sliding my hand into his. There was something in her expression that was almost sad. It almost made me feel somewhat sorry for her, but then they disappeared out the back doors.

  “Don’t let him get you all worked up,” Lila said to Miles while shooting me a look that said, Keep him out of trouble.

  “Why is he here?”

  “Mother invited him. She was hoping everyone could make amends now that things have changed.”

  “Nothing has changed,” Miles said.

  Lila’s eyebrows rose slightly as she looked pointedly at me. Miles looked at me, too, a little guiltily. After a second’s hesitation, he tugged me closer to him and said, “Come on.”

  We went back out onto the veranda, and he led the way to the small space that had been cleared to act as a dance floor. He pulled me into his arms and held me gently in his arms, moving slowly to a song I didn’t recognize, but whose melody I would likely never forget. It was the music to which my husband truly held me for the first time. We moved slowly, not really moving at all, but swaying as we held each other the way newlyweds often do. I could feel his heart pounding against my chest, could feel his pulse under my thumb as I pressed my hand to his throat. His scent washed over me, filling my every pore, becoming a part of who I was in that moment. It was the first time I truly felt like a bride, like I belonged to someone, that I was a part of something bigger than myself.

  It was a natural extension of the moment for him to lift my chin with a finger on my jaw, for his lips to seek mine. It was familiar, the taste of him, as he pressed his lips to mine. I sighed—I couldn’t help myself—and moved closer to him, wanting to be closer. How he could go from anger to this so quickly. I wasn’t sure, but it was a dream, less bizarre than the moment of our vows, but surreal just the same. I was floating, dancing on a cloud, no longer aware of the sea of humanity surrounding us. None of it really mattered anymore.

  It felt like a new beginning. My heart began to open, and I felt myself falling. I thought it was safe…I should have known better.

  Two months later, he would hand me divorce papers and inform me that my obligation to him had been fulfilled. He would bring me out to a new car he bought for me—out of guilt?—and send me on my way with a list of potential employers I should call. It was like being unceremoniously fired from a beloved job. In reality, it felt like he’d cut me off at my knees, made love to me the night before and tossed me away the next morning, like a regretted one-night stand.

  It was not one of my best moments.

  Yet, that moment on the dance floor was one to hold on to.

  I still hold on to it.

  Chapter 9

  Is it insane that I still cling to that moment all these months later?

  Here I am, walking onto a cruise ship, my aunts waving at me from the dock, trying to put the past behind me and begin anew, only to have the memory of that kiss still so ingrained in every part of me. I had to get past it. Miles Thorn, our marriage, and the divorce that followed were my past now. Six months. You’d think I’d be able to get over it in that amount of time.

  I stepped off of the gangplank and was immediately greeted by a young steward.

  “Your ticket, please.”

  I shifted my bag from hand to shoulder and handed him the papers I’d been holding for what seemed like hours. A clear change came over him as he read the ticket.

  “I apologize, Mrs. Thorn. We’ve been waiting for you.”

  He turned and began walking away before it even registered what he’d called me, let alone allow me to develop an argument for his choice of address. I’d reverted to my maiden name after I signed the divorce papers. No one called me Mrs. Thorn anymore, except for Lisa when she’s feeling especially facetious. But he was gone and if I was going to follow, I needed to hurry.

  The steward led the way down a flight of stairs and across the front of the ship, finally stopping at a set of double doors. It seemed like double doors had become something of a symbol in my life, leading to more pleasure and pain than I’d ever wanted to experience. Let’s hope that these doors weren’t more of the same.

  He opened them with a flourish and gestured for me to enter.

  “Dinner is at eight. You’ll be dining with the captain this evening.”

  “Excuse me?” I said, turning just in time to see him disappear.

  Guy was like Speedy Gonzales.

  But it didn’t really matter. The room was beautiful, a massive sitting room with an amazing view of the harbor outside a sliding glass door. And the bedroom—that bed was a work of art! I ran my hand over the coverlet, unable to resist the silky feel of the material under
my fingers.

  It’d been a long day. It crossed my mind to curl up on that bed and to sleep for the next few days, but I remembered what he said about dining with the captain. I should take a shower. A twelve-hour car ride with two old women was not really the best way to stay fresh. I tried to talk them out of coming, but they insisted that they wanted to see me off. If Lisa hadn’t agreed to take a week off of work and join them in the morning…

  I really needed to learn not to worry about my aunts so much.

  I slowly undressed, my thoughts returning to Miles. I knew I shouldn’t be thinking about him, but the more I told myself not to, the more I did. The night of the party…I should have known better. I should have known he was only putting on a show for his brother and his ex-fiancée. But I fell for it. So it was my own fault that I got my heart broken.

  I shook my head as I peeled my panties off and crossed the room to the bathroom. Was it crazy that I could still smell him? That the scent of wood and spices still brought the taste of his lips to my tongue? I swear I could smell him now, even here, fourteen thousand miles from home. I must be losing my mind.

  I pushed open the door of the bathroom and…What the hell?

  “Miles?”

  He chuckled softly, as he turned from where he’d been shaving in the mirror, nothing but a thin towel wrapped around his waist. His eyes move slowly over me, over my nakedness, merriment dancing in his eyes.

  “I was hoping you’d be happy to see me. But this is more than even I could hope for.”

  Chapter 10

  My heart crushed after the end of a marriage that never should have been, I boarded a cruise ship for a singles cruise that was the last thing I wanted to do, but I did for my dear, sweet aunts who’d bought the ticket as a birthday present. Not only did I not want to be here, I didn’t want my aunts wandering the streets of Miami while I was gone—even though my best friend, Lisa, would be there to watch over them—and I really didn’t want to meet anyone new. I’d already been on a series of awful dates. I had decided it was time to just sit back and spend a little time on my own, reassess my life, and maybe decide what I wanted to do with the rest of it. Was that so much to ask?