An Unlikely Deal

by Nadia Lee

  I have. I’ve learned it especially well.

  If you behave, maybe I won’t have to send you away to camp. My mother, standing with her arms crossed.

  If you behave, maybe you won’t have to go to boarding schools like your half-siblings.

  If you behave, maybe I’ll take you with us on our trip to Italy.

  And it wasn’t just Betsy. There were others.

  You’re important to me. How can you not know that?

  Of course I’ll come by to see you.

  The only one who never played that game is Elizabeth, but she’s above such petty bullshit.

  So is Ava. She’s never said she’d do something then broken her word.

  What about Blake?

  I frown. If she claimed Blake said that shit to her, he probably did, even if he denies it. He probably forgot because he says shit to everyone he meets, kind of the way most people wouldn’t remember a particular meal from six months back. When you eat all the time…

  I close my eyes and imagine an invisible metronome is in my room, slowly ticking away. The trick always helps me fall asleep, no matter how agitated I am.

  Bit by bit my muscles loosen. My eyelids grow heavy and my brain starts to drift. Air fills my lungs, then leaves in a steady rhythm.

  The phone in my hand vibrates, jerking me out of drowsiness. I stare at the text.

  You asleep?

  I blink myself fully awake, then smile. Yes.

  The phone rings. “Good lord, woman, can’t a man get any rest around you?”

  “Rise and shine.”

  Her tone is light, but I can sense some tension running underneath. “Are you all right?”

  She hesitates. “I’m fine. Just tired…and I miss you.”

  “Miss you, too.” I make a face even though she can’t see me. “I wish you hadn’t called your foster parents. We could’ve spent the night together, then surprised them tomorrow.”

  I hear nothing but the sound of her slow breathing for a minute. “Probably a bad idea,” she says finally. “They hate surprises.”

  “Even if the surprise is good?”

  “Even then.”

  There is a hint of listlessness in her voice that’s making my scalp prickle. “Did something happen?”

  “No.” She sounds genuinely confused. “Why do you ask?”

  Damn. So if that’s not it, then what? She seemed fine on the flight home. God, I’d give my left foot to have her with me right now, so I could look into her eyes and make sure she’s really all right. I hate having the feeling that something’s going on, but not being able to act on it, make things better for her.

  Suddenly I’m not certain that bringing her home was such a great idea. I didn’t factor her foster parents in. They weren’t much of a presence two or three years ago, and I assumed it would be the same again.

  “Hoping for a reason to get you to come over,” I say finally, deciding to make a joke of it, rather than get really serious when she’s too far away to hold in my arms.

  She snorts, then giggles quietly. “You’re awful.”

  “If by ‘awful’ you mean ‘desperately horny’, then yes…”

  “Are you? Horny?”

  “Yeah. But the real problem is I miss having you by my side,” I answer honestly. Being with her, just holding her hand and sitting in silence, is incomparably preferable to an orgasm…unless I’m climaxing with her.

  “I miss you, too.”

  I can hear the smile in her voice, and it loosens another bit of my tension. “Listen, are your foster parents going to insist on being old-fashioned about us?”

  “Maybe. They know how things fell apart between us. They’re worried.”

  Jesus. Protective parents. I’m grateful she has them, but I have zero experience dealing with them. My dates’ parents didn’t care since they were more concerned with my money—which is why I mentioned my plane to Ray, although he didn’t seem that impressed—and my parents… Well, they don’t exactly qualify for any conscientious caregiver awards.

  “If they’re worried, they can always talk to me.”

  “They just might.”

  “Good.”

  I’d love a chance to explain myself, let them know things aren’t going to be like before. Mentally I pencil that in on my calendar for tomorrow. Then I decide my weekend is empty. If it’s not empty, Rachael can make it empty.

  “I’ll be there tomorrow to say hello.”

  “And try to seduce me while you’re at it?”

  “Sure, why not? Getting naked with you is my new purpose in life. If your folks happen to be in the same room, well…”

  She chuckles. “Is that all you ever think about?”

  “If I were to create a diagram of what’s in my head, you’d occupy ninety-five percent.”

  “What’s taking up the other five?”

  “Breathing. Eating. Occasional personal hygiene. Remembering how to tie my shoes.”

  She laughs. “Please. Are you telling me only five percent of your brain was needed to make your fortune?”

  I’m quiet for a moment. “You know about that?”

  “Of course. I Googled you after…you know. That was pretty impressive.”

  “Well…I didn’t know you then. So I was able to free up more of my brain. I’m lucky we didn’t meet until after I made my money. I wouldn’t be able to spoil you.”

  “You don’t need money to spoil me, Lucas. All you need to bring is yourself.”

  And just like that, she makes my heart so full it aches.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she murmurs.

  I swallow the lump in my throat. I place a hand over my chest, wishing she were here so I could grasp her before she vanishes. “Good night, sweetheart.”

  “Dream of me.”

  “Always.”

  Long after the line cuts off, I keep the phone to my ear so I can pretend we’re still connected.

  * * *

  Lucas

  Harsh winds whip the grass, combing the field this way and that. The cliff juts over dark, churning water, and far beyond my right is an olive tree. Its branches are barren of fruit. What olives that fell, are all gone.

  Black clouds move over the ocean, the briny air charged with electricity. My left leg aches as I brace the wind and march forward.

  Come back, Lucas. It’s dangerous out there.

  Muted voices call from behind me, but I ignore them. Ava is out there…somewhere. I have to find her.

  The sky splits open and water pelts down, drenching me instantly. The temperature is freezing, and my teeth chatter. The old injuries seem to harden, the muscles knotting and gnarling painfully.

  Still, I have to find Ava. I can’t go back to safety without her.

  There.

  I see her standing at the edge of the cliff. Her platinum tresses and all-too-slim body are unmistakable. The hair is stringy with rain, and the flimsy white sundress sticks to her like wet tissue.

  “Ava!” I bellow.

  She looks at the dark horizon beyond the sea. I force my legs to move, even though the wind is unbearably strong now. How is she able to just stand there, her back as straight as a steel rod?

  “Ava!” I call out again.

  This time she turns. Her face is pale with cold, except for the eyes. They’re electric, so hot and bright they appear like tunnels of blue fire through the rain.

  Her lips move. She isn’t speaking loudly, but somehow I can hear her clearly over the raging wind and rain.

  “You’re despicable.”

  “Ava…”

  “Why did you ever think you’d be good enough?”

  Crippling fear surges within me, but I clench my legs and extend a hand. “It’s dangerous out there. Come with me. Please.”

  “No.” She turns to the ocean. “I’d rather be there than with you.”

  “Ava.”

  I push forward, using every drop of strength in my body. But the distance between us seems to grow wider.
>
  Fuck.

  Suddenly she turns, facing me again. “You can’t have me, Lucas. You never deserved me.” She steps backward, beyond the cliff, her dress and hair fluttering like streamers as she vanishes over the edge.

  “Ava!”

  Panic slams into me, and I jump forward only to crash against an invisible wall. Sharp pain slices through me.

  “No!”

  Breathing hard, I jackknife into a sitting position. Sweat covers my skin, and my heart is hammering against my ribs with such force that my chest throbs.

  I run a hand over my face. Jesus. What the fuck was that?

  Just a dream…with fragments of Grandpa’s Landscape of Tuscany tossed in. It doesn’t mean anything. I reach for my phone, ready to dial Ava’s number, but the screen shows it’s after three a.m. I toss it on the sheet and bury my face in my hands. It’s good that it’s too late for me to call. What would I say?

  I lie back, but sleep doesn’t come.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Ava

  I’m up by five thirty, which is way earlier than normal. Despite the very comfortable travel, jet-lag has struck.

  I stay in bed and read a mystery novel that I downloaded a couple months back. It’s an okay book with a cute librarian as the lead. Around the time I hit the end of the fifth chapter, the house starts to stir.

  After a quick shower, I put on a blue sweater and jeans and make my way downstairs, my sneakers quiet on the hardwood floor. Ray and Darcy are sharing coffee by the breakfast bar in the kitchen. Ray looks like he’s ready to go out for a round of golf. A navy blue zip-neck sweater with horizontal stripes across his chest lies neatly on his torso, and well-fitted dark brown trousers—as well as his golf shoes—look brand new. Darcy, on the other hand, doesn’t seem interested in any particular activity. She’s in a bright yellow cotton shirt with a cream-colored cardigan thrown over it, and her favorite plaid angle-length skirt hangs on her slight body. A pair of plushy brown slippers covers her feet.

  “Good morning,” I say with a cheery smile.

  “Morning. Sleep well?” Darcy asks.

  “I was up a little early because of the flight, but yeah. I did.”

  I head for the coffee maker and pour myself a big mugful. Ray is a connoisseur of the brown stuff, and my foster parents have some of the best coffee in the world.

  I wrap my hands around the mug and take a sip. “This is so good.”

  “I got some new beans from Colombia,” Ray explains. “They’re excellent. Much better than I expected.”

  Darcy smiles. “If they weren’t good, you would’ve sent them back.”

  Laughing, Ray gets up with his empty mug. “Of course. No reason to pay good money for bad coffee.” He looks at both me and Darcy. “Do you ladies have any special requests for breakfast?”

  “Belgian waffles?” I ask, licking my lips.

  Ray is an excellent cook, and his specialties are waffles and pancakes. I don’t know what he puts in them, but it’s highly addicting.

  While Ray gets busy in the kitchen, Darcy and I check the nursery. Mia is already up. When she spots Darcy, she extends her fat little arms, silently asking to be picked up.

  “Hello, baby girl,” Darcy coos as she slips her hands under Mia’s armpits and pulls her upward, settling the small child against her chest. “Aren’t you a sweet little thing? You were so quiet in here, we didn’t even know you were awake.”

  Mia chortles. Then she swivels her head toward me, her mouth parted in an open smile.

  I step forward and brush my finger tenderly along her cheek. “Hello, Mia.”

  “’Ello,” she says.

  “Mia is quite a talker,” Darcy says. “She speaks surprisingly well for her age.”

  “Is it all right if I…?”

  “Of course.” Darcy hands me the child.

  I cradle her against my heart, feeling her slight precious weight. Mia was born small, and if it hadn’t been for Darcy and Ray’s assistance, I’m not certain she would’ve gotten the medical care she needed. The labor was very difficult, and I was too young and too out of it afterwards to figure out what needed to be done. It also didn’t help that I felt so alone, knowing that I could never depend on Lucas for support. In many ways, Ray and Darcy have been better parents to Mia than I ever could have. What I feel for them extends beyond mere gratitude.

  With prickling eyes, I look at Darcy over Mia’s head. My foster mother gazes back at me with a sweet smile that says she understands.

  The sound of the doorbell breaks the moment. Darcy and I look at each other. The digital clock on the wall says it’s barely eight a.m. Who could be visiting so early?

  Darcy marches out of the nursery, me following closely behind. As she walks past the kitchen, she calls out, “I got it.”

  “Thanks, hon,” Ray says, whisking something in a bowl.

  The second Darcy opens the door, she stiffens. I gasp when I spot Lucas over Darcy’s head. He’s freshly showered, his hair slightly damp, his face carefully shaved. A black untucked button-down shirt fits over his strong, muscled shoulders and chest, and a pair of well-worn black denim pants and suede leather shoes complete the darkly foreboding look.

  “Lucas,” I say.

  Darcy shoots me a quick look over her shoulder, then turns her attention back to him.

  “What are you doing here so early?” she asks, her tone neither polite nor impolite.

  “I wanted to take Ava out for breakfast,” he says.

  Whoa. I knew he would visit, but I didn’t realize he meant to come by so early or monopolize my time because—despite what he told me yesterday—there’s no way he popped up merely to say hello to my foster parents. I search his face. Fatigue has etched lines in the corners of his eyes and his mouth. What happened? He sounded fine when we talked last night.

  His gaze lands distractedly on Mia in my arms. “Pretty girl.”

  My insides freeze. Before I can respond, Darcy pulls Mia away from me, her hands gentle but slightly shaky. “Lucas, meet Mia. My daughter.” The second she’s done, she purses her lips and lifts her chin. Most people wouldn’t pick up on her mood, but I know she’s flustered. She wasn’t prepared to have Lucas see Mia, at least not yet.

  Lucas says, “Hi Mia,” even as he glances back and forth between Darcy and Mia a couple of times. My mouth goes dry. No matter how you look at it, the chances of Darcy and Ray having a child as young as Mia are almost nil.

  For a moment it looks like he’s about to say something, but he doesn’t…which only unnerves me further. What is he thinking?

  “And I’m afraid Ava’s not available to go out to breakfast,” Darcy continues. “She’s eating with us.”

  A muscle in Lucas’s jaw ticks. He shifts his weight forward.

  “But you’re welcome to join us. I’m sure it’s not too late for Ray to make extra batter for his Belgian waffles.”

  Lucas’s visible eyebrow scrunches. “I’m…” He recovers. “Thank you. That would be nice.”

  Darcy nods once and goes to the kitchen to announce to Ray that we have an additional guest. I lean closer to Lucas and whisper, “I didn’t realize you were coming this morning.”

  “I wasn’t planning to, but I missed you.” He gives me a reproachful look. “You could’ve just told them you can’t eat with them.”

  “That would’ve been unbelievably rude since I already told them I would.” I give him an impish smile. “Don’t worry. You’ll be able to charm them, and if everything goes well, we can spend some time together after breakfast.”

  “All right. After breakfast, we’re going for a long, long drive far away from here, just you and me.”

  Something’s really bothering him, and it puts a damper on my mood. Even though I made tentative plans to have a picnic with my foster parents, I nod. “Deal.”

  * * *

  Lucas

  Breakfast takes place in the dining room. The cherry-wood table is set for four, with a highchair-plus-tray co
ntraption for Mia. I guess that means the girl’s eating with us. The idea is somewhat surreal; I don’t remember dining with my parents until I was old enough to use napkins and utensils properly. Mom has always hated dealing with messiness, and children are inevitably too messy for her taste.

  Ray serves waffles, pancakes and crispy bacon with a jug of Canadian maple syrup and a small white pitcher that turns out to have honey in it. He even has a dark navy and orange apron wrapped around him.

  It’s odd to see the man of the house cook and serve things. The last time I saw that was when I was eighteen and staying with my grandfather. When he wasn’t busy painting he dabbled in Italian cuisine…and forced us to eat what he made, no matter how badly it turned out.

  As for my parents… Dad couldn’t find the kitchen in any of the fancy houses he’s lived in—that’s what the cook’s for. Mom also acted as though she didn’t know how to turn an oven on, even though I’m certain she didn’t grow up in wealth. The only time I see people cook and serve food these days is when I happen to flip by Food Network.

  Ava brings out a thermos of hot coffee, while Darcy cuts waffles into small pieces for Mia on a plastic plate. I remain standing, unsure what to do. Mia flutters her fat little fingers in my direction, and I waggle mine back at her.

  Ray takes a seat at the head of the table, and his wife takes the place to his right. I pull out a chair to his left for Ava so I can sit next to her and as far away from her foster parents as possible. Of course, this arrangement leaves me sitting opposite the girl. She chortles in my direction, waving her plastic fork around. I give her a small smile, unsure precisely what’s expected of me. Small children are not an area of expertise.

  “Try the waffles,” Ava whispers in my ear, dragging my attention from Mia. “Ray’s a great cook. You won’t be sorry.”

  I glance at her face, noting the smile. I take a small forkful of waffle and put it in my mouth. It’s surprisingly good.

  “How do you like it?” Darcy asks.

  “Excellent,” I say. “Better than anything I’ve ever had…and I’ve been to a lot of fancy places for breakfast.”

  Ray beams. “Waffles. The love of my life.”