Ten Good Reasons

by Lauren Christopher

  “C’mon, Evan! It’s your last night.”

  “I really don’t want to.”

  Lia grabbed Evan’s collar. “Listen, buddy.” She shoved him back toward the cabin wall, much to his surprise. And, immediately following that, his amusement. This woman could probably turn him on every day of his life, if she wanted to. He smiled and accommodated her by stepping back against the cabin, focused on how warm her hands felt.

  But he looked immediately for Drew.

  “I know you have an image to uphold of being the sad, angry dude who’s just going to sail around the world until he dies,” she said, his polo shirt still bunched in her fists, “but I think you’re much more than that.”

  Evan lifted an eyebrow. Had he become that much of a caricature of himself? A heat formed around his neck and he had to look away.

  “I think you’re a gentle, caring man,” she said, with three little shakes.

  The words suddenly felt like bullets riddling his chest. What started out as playfulness turned into something painful and unbearable, as the heat in his ears moved upward and the bullets seared a new heat in his chest cavity.

  “And you have a lot to give.” She gave one last shove, then let go.

  The bullets ricocheted around and hit various arteries. The blood started oozing out and his chest wanted to cave in. He opened his mouth to say something, but no sound came out. He’d been that once—that gentle, caring man she was describing—but he knew those parts of him had shriveled up and died. It shocked him that Lia could still see them somehow, buried under all the darkness and gray and suspicion. And here she was—resurrecting those descriptions, resurrecting those possibilities. His chest was trying to fill with air, but he was having a hard time breathing.

  “You’ve got to get back in the game, man,” she said quietly. “You could make a woman very happy again someday. And you’d make a great father.”

  Not enough air . . . The bullets were causing blood to seep all over. Make a woman happy again someday? Make a great father? Images flooded his mind and terrified him: a woman to love again, her hair on his pillow, her head nestled under his chin, a newborn baby, holding him the way he used to hold Luke. . . . The blood felt like it was seeping into his lungs and he might be drowning. He kept trying to breathe.

  One look at Lia’s flashing eyes, though, and he realized—with a certain degree of horror and yet a feeling that it was something he always knew—that she was the woman. She was the one whose hair he could see across his pillowcase. She was the one he wanted to tuck into his chest. She was the one handing him the newborn. . . .

  Air was in short supply now, but he found a gulp on a salty-tasting breeze and sucked it down.

  His first instinct was to stop the waves of feeling—shut her down, shove his sunglasses on, mumble something about Drew seeing them, and walk away to try to get his breath back. But then he took a deep inhale and took a chance:

  “You could come,” he choked out.

  “What?”

  “You could come with me.” He almost couldn’t get it out the second time. What was he doing? Was he making the biggest mistake of his life? But he knew he wasn’t. She was the one. She was the one on the pillowcase—it was her Cinderella hair. She was the one to make him feel again, to give him something to live for. Images began flashing of how wonderful it would be—to do the whole circumference again, but feeling this time. To share it all with her. To take her around the world she so wanted to explore. . . .

  But Lia stiffened right before his eyes. He could see the exact moment her walls came up.

  “Me?” she asked, frowning.

  He’d made a mistake. She didn’t want him. . . . The blood gushed harder, into his lungs, into his chest cavity.

  He nodded anyway.

  “I didn’t mean me!” She laughed a little, but sounded terrified. The ocean wind swept down the deck through the gap between them. “I meant . . . well, I meant another woman. A really great woman. . . .” She waved her hand. “I mean . . . you know, someone who could be good for you. I have . . . well, I have a job. Some of us can’t just sail around the world when we want to. We have to be providers. And make something of ourselves. And be successful . . .”

  She was stammering in a way that was already familiar to him—nervous, backing away. He would normally find it kind of cute, the way she reacted to things that scared her. Except that this time it was him.

  “I can’t um—” Her hand went into the air again, as if she were hoping to sweep back the right words.

  “It’s okay, Cinderella.” He tried to smile to reassure her, but he couldn’t make his mouth form the right shape. He didn’t want to scare her any further, so he looked away.

  “Hey, everything okay here?” Drew came around the corner in his wheelchair, being guided by Douglas, who was helping to make sure there weren’t any obstacles. The chair barely fit in the width of the side deck.

  “We’re fine,” Evan grumbled.

  Damn, even if he could revive Cinderella here—who looked like she was going to pass out—and talk her into at least one leg of the sailing tour, what was he going to do? Take off with her while Drew watched? Again? . . . He’d have to make friends with never speaking to Drew again.

  Drew looked between the two of them. “You’re sure?”

  Evan glanced down at Cinderella, who didn’t look fine at all. Her face had gone white and she was staring at the decking tape.

  “You don’t look fine, Lia,” Drew said. “You want to come with me and Doug?” He threw a look of daggers Evan’s way.

  “No, no. It’s fine.”

  “Lia!” Her boss came around the corner. Elle looked terrible—her hair matted to her head, the strange thing she had around her neck all damp fur. “We need to . . . Oh. Hello.” She glanced at Drew, Douglas, and Evan. Her look was one you’d give the help. “Kyle is preparing your tip,” she said with an efficient lift of her chin. “Lia, let’s go back to the office. We have a lot to plan and discuss.”

  “Now? It’s five forty-five.”

  “Yes, it’s going to be a long night. We have a lot to do—to make plans.” Her voice left on an upswing that seemed like it was supposed to generate enthusiasm, but Lia looked less than enthused. “Paris!” She grabbed Lia’s arms and shook them, but Lia stood stiff as a statue. “We’re going to swing by my house on the way so I can get cleaned up, and then we’ll pick up some coffees and head back in. I have to go over everything with you. You’ll be leaving this week.”

  “This week?”

  “Of course.”

  “I thought it was in July?”

  “No. I just decided I want to launch early. Come along.” She shuffled down the deck, tripping in the ridiculous shoes she was wearing.

  Lia looked up at Evan. “I have to go,” she whispered.

  Her eyes were begging. Clearly, she wanted to be free. Of him. Of his moment of honesty. Of his need for her. Of all the emotion that was spilling out of him right now.

  He looked into her eyes one more time, to see if there was even a slight sense of hesitation there.

  But all he could see was a woman who wanted to escape.

  He nodded and cut her loose.

  She hustled down the deck behind her boss, glancing back only once. The blood spilled out his heart, through his innards, clogged in his stomach. He wondered how long it would take for it to harden around his organs again and shrivel them up so he could stop feeling.

  He glanced down at Drew.

  “You asshole.” Drew shoved the wheels of his chair and followed to the edge of the cat. Douglas fell in step behind him, throwing Evan a sympathetic glance.

  For another ten minutes, Evan stared at the redness of the setting sun bouncing off the decking tape until it turned duller, darker, then a deep purple. He willed his heart to shut down again.

 
; Then he shoved his sunglasses into the front of his shirt and dragged himself to the edge of the boat. His body felt like it was a hundred years old again. Joe the Mechanic’s kid was standing there at the edge of the dock.

  “Hey, Mr. Betancourt. Your engine’s ready.”

  Evan meant to say thanks but he couldn’t get words out of his mouth. Instead he nodded, and the kid walked away.

  Just in time, was all he could think.

  CHAPTER

  Twenty-seven

  What the hell was that? was all Lia could think as she shuffled down the dock behind the Vampiress, trying to keep up. And why did she clam up like that?

  Why couldn’t she have said what she had really been thinking? Why couldn’t she have told Evan that his stunning proposal—to travel around the world with him, to see all the countries she’d ever wanted to see, to wake up every morning with a man who made her feel sexy and alive—was about as glorious an idea as she could imagine? But the song her heart had wanted to sing couldn’t come out of her mouth. Just like usual.

  She had gone immediately into practical-person mode. Which had shut off her emotions. The practical side of her said it was a stupid idea. How would she make money if she were on a boat for a year? What kind of job would she have when she came back? How would she ever be a success if she drained all of her savings like that? And how could she be a success with a man like Evan, who seemed bent on living only one day at a time? It didn’t fit into her worldview at all.

  But, then again, Evan . . .

  She couldn’t help the schoolgirl sigh that escaped. And although its dreaminess embarrassed her, it felt kind of good.

  Being with a man who made her laugh every day, who could make her smile just with a quick glance, who could give her that kind of passion in bed every night, who could bring her out onto the ocean with the wind in her hair and make her feel so alive, who would stand up for her and protect her when he wanted to just because he wanted to . . .

  Her heart quickened at the idea of that kind of life.

  “Let’s hurry,” said Elle. She dug a brush out of the depths of her tote bag and yanked the wet mink from around her throat. “I have a car waiting.”

  “I have my own car, Elle. I’ll just meet you there.”

  “No, I need you to help me. Here. Carry this.” She turned and handed Lia her tote bag.

  “Elle, you don’t need me to carry your bag.”

  “Of course I do. Now let’s talk. Can you be ready to go to Paris this week? I already have an office space, and wanted to send someone ahead to make sure everything’s correct. I can send James with you. . . .”

  “I have a dress fitting for my sister’s wedding on Friday.”

  “Oh, I’ll need you to leave before that.”

  “But I can’t just—”

  “And once you’re there, I need you to stay there until July. I already have a flat rented that you can use.”

  “Well, I have a few things I have to be back for, with my sister getting married. I’m a bridesmaid, and—”

  “Oh, you’ll have to delegate all that, Lia.”

  “But I can’t delegate supporting my sister!”

  “Of course you can. She can handle it. Doesn’t she have friends?”

  “Well, yes, but . . .”

  “Then it’s settled. I’ll send you and James on Thursday. Here’s the car. Let me make a call. . . .”

  Lia accompanied Elle back to her penthouse apartment, her mind whirling the whole time Elle was on the phone about how she might explain this to Giselle and Fin, how she might make the arrangements with the clients she was handling pro-bono, how she’d help Drew finalize whatever he needed for his boat, whether she could bring Missy to Paris, what she would pack, and—most of all—how she absolutely had to go back to Evan’s tonight and apologize.

  She couldn’t leave him feeling like he was anything but special. She’d made a terrible mistake, not saying what she was feeling. She needed him to know he was a special man, and that he was truly going to make a very lucky woman happy someday. And she wished it could be her. . . .

  The sigh escaped her again, and she glanced quickly at Elle to make sure she hadn’t heard. Elle continued talking. Lia took a deep breath and stared out the window. She’d get over there to tell him the moment Elle was done with her.

  Back at the office, Lia and Elle flipped on the fluorescent lights of floor twenty-three and sat in the middle of the otherwise-darkened space. Lights popped up all over the city as night fell. They spread papers across the desks and rearranged files to launch the new campaigns in France. Elle went over the campaigns in detail, showed Lia the new blueprints for the Paris space that she wanted Lia to make sure were carried out, quizzed Lia on her French and signed her up online for refresher French lessons, then pointed to a few boxes she would be shipping that she wanted Lia to look out for. While they were setting up the new administrative files, Lia checked the time again on her cell.

  “You’ve looked at that phone about fifteen times in the last twenty minutes,” Elle said.

  “Oh, I just . . . There’s someone I need to see.”

  “Where’s your work ethic? You usually stay here late with no problem.”

  “It’s not a problem. There’s just someone . . . He’s leaving tomorrow, and I just need to . . .”

  Lia gave up. Elle wasn’t listening anymore.

  “Listen,” Elle said, bending forward to stare at a computer monitor, “if you want to be like me, you’re going to have to give up a few things. You have to get your priorities straight.”

  Lia lifted an eyebrow and let her eyes slide across Elle’s desk. Elle had seven crystal-framed photos across the top, but each was a picture of her and a politician—no family, no friends. Gifts and cards lined her sideboard, but none was a little crayon drawing from a niece. A beautiful bouquet of flowers erupted from a crystal vase on the right side of the desk, but Lia happened to know that Elle had them shipped to herself once a week: tulips one week, daffodils the next. A closet door stood slightly ajar, packed with the clothing Elle kept for when she spent the night in the office, and lined with high-heeled shoes, but not one was an ugly pair of blue to wear while she stood up for a friend or sister in a bridesmaid dress. . . .

  Lia’s heart started racing. Is this what she was going to become?

  “Um, Elle . . .”

  Elle hardly looked up, but instead handed Lia a folder. “Here, why don’t you start on this? Can you get us some coffee? This might take a while.”

  “Um, Elle, I don’t think I can go to Paris.”

  Elle finally looked up. Her chair creaked as it turned toward Lia. “What?”

  “I can’t go. I have to stay here to help my sister, just until July. And then I have two friends getting married in August and September. And I can’t work late anymore. I have friends and family and a niece whose events I’ve already missed too many times, and I’d like to spend time with them. And I can’t even stay this minute.” Her heart thundered as she reached for her purse. “I have someone very important to me who might be hurting because of something I said—or didn’t say—and I need to go to him right now. Will you call the car around?” Lia set the folders aside and backed toward the hallway, staring at Elle’s eyes, which darkened and narrowed.

  “What?” she screeched. “Lia, this is crazy. We’ve been planning this for—”

  “No, Elle, we weren’t.” Lia could hear the shaking in her voice, but she needed to stand up for herself. Evan was right. Sometimes people took advantage of you when you always tried to be nice. “You originally said July. And I’ve been working my butt off for you, working toward that July date, but you’ve been taking advantage of me. I need to go.” Suddenly she felt she couldn’t wait another second to see Evan. She whirled toward the doorway and snaked her way through the rows of desks.

  “Lia
! Don’t you dare leave!” Elle’s voice zinged off the darkened walls. “If you walk out this door, you might not have a desk to return to!”

  “I’ll take my chances.” Lia flew into the hallway and banged the elevator buttons.

  Lia wanted to see Paris with someone she loved. She wanted to spend more time with her sisters, spend more time with her mom, spend more time with her friends and her little niece, and live the life she was working so damned hard for.

  She also, in this moment, desperately wanted to see Evan. Maybe she would leave with him, if he could wait until after the wedding. It wasn’t like her to be so impulsive, but she had a crazy amount of money saved up, given all the vacations she never took. She could introduce him to her friends—they’d all love him, especially Xavier and Fin. And she could help him with Drew. And maybe she could join him to see his parents. . . .

  She’d be helping him heal.

  And he’d be helping her live.

  Because what was success without the friends, family, and passion to enjoy it?

  The elevator finally dinged and she slipped inside and jabbed at the lobby button.

  When the car finally dropped her off back in the marina parking lot, she flew out the door, bypassed her own car, and hustled down to the docks.

  The lamps sputtered as she picked up speed, running down the ramps, imagining how strong and warm Evan’s arms would feel. She pictured his smile when he saw her—it would be tentative at first because she might have hurt him. But she’d assure him immediately that she was so, so sorry. And she’d tell him that he was the most amazing man she’d ever met. And that he was kind, and caring. And that, as crazy as it sounded, she might have just fallen in love for the first time. With him. With Evan Betancourt.

  The dock planks disappeared beneath her feet, one by one, as she ran all the way to the end, past the sputtering light and then around the last T-shaped dock.

  But as she came to a halt around that final corner, she stopped short and gripped her purse to her chest.