“I knew it.” Tears were in my eyes, and I was angry with myself for getting this emotional, but my heart was spewing out all the pain I’d felt since I met him. “Do you realize how horrible it felt to see her hands on you? Or to see Stephanie in your bed at the hotel? You slept with her, too. And Charles said that you were hanging out with her earlier in the night.”
“Charles doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I spoke to her for five minutes. I was nice to her, but I didn’t invite her to come to my hotel room. And I wouldn’t have.”
“But what about Gwen? You did have sex with her!” I stood from the bed, too tense to remain sitting.
“No I didn’t. I DID NOT Marzy. We did some stuff after you told me we were finished, but not that and it was a mistake. A huge mistake.”
“I saw you! I was at the bar. I saw you go to the back room with her. You were back there forever and came back with sex hair!”
Now he stood from the bed. “I didn’t have sex with her! And don’t you remember all the guys you ran through when you got back from New York? I had to see THAT. I actually saw some guy with his hands around your waist and his mouth at your neck. How do you think that made me feel?”
“That’s completely different,” I said.
“How is that different?”
“You didn’t know any of them! You’ll never have to see them again. I knew her. I knew the way she looked at you. All the flirting over the last few months. The way she touched you. She wanted you from the very beginning. And the first thing you do when I tell you that we’re over is run to her and then invite her to your house, knowing that I’ll see it!”
“I didn’t invite her. She heard us talking about it and came when she got off. I wasn’t trying to hurt you!”
“BUT YOU DID!” Over and over he had.
He sighed, running his hands down his face. “What do you want from me?” he asked. Just all of you. Everything. Nothing. “I fired Gwen,” he said. “What I did with her was a mistake, but continuing to have her around was worse. And she’s a bitch to you, so I fired her. I told Sandra that I was seeing someone. Even then, when I had no idea what was going to happen between us, I told her that I belonged to someone else. I never, ever expected Wally to bring Stephanie back to my room. Even if you hadn’t been there, I would have been pissed. I don’t want her. I don’t want Sandra. I don’t want Gwen. The only reason anything happened with her was because I was a wreck. I just wanted the ache in my heart to be gone, but she wasn’t you. No one is you, Marzy.”
My face remained impassive, trying to give nothing away, because inside I was confused, unable to make heads or tails of all my conflicting emotions. I was pissed. I was sad. I was hurt. I wanted him to comfort me. I wanted to push him away.
“It’s been only you from the very beginning,” he continued. “But you’re so hot and cold. One minute you’re all over me but the next, you don’t want anything to do with me! I feel like I’m constantly taking two steps forward and three steps back. It’s like pulling teeth to get you to open up to me. I tried giving you space. I tried to let you work it out, but I kept feeling you drift away from me. I shouldn’t have believed Candace. I should have known there was more to the picture and asked you about it. I shouldn’t have believed Fontenot, but I’m not used to feeling this way about a woman. I’m not used to needing all this reassurance. I messed up. I screwed everything up. But I promise I’ll make it right, Marzy. I will make this right. Let me.”
“You’ll do it again,” I said, voicing my fear. We hadn’t even been dating when all of this happened. How would I feel when we were?
Quickly, he came around the bed to stand in front of me. His hands tenderly went to my face. “No I won’t,” he said, resting his forehead against mine. “I won’t.”
Too many doubts were swimming through my head. The letter my father had written my mother appeared in my mind, all the sweet words and emptiness he’d felt from her loss, but he’d been having an affair, even though he supposedly loved her with all his heart. What Lucas had told me made sense, and my heart wanted to open itself up to him, to let him heal all the brokenness. But my head wouldn’t do it. It was stubborn and fixated on the inevitable pain he would cause. Love killed you. It took all the good, all the hope you had, and by the end twisted it, contorting it into something unrecognizable. I couldn’t do it. I was too scared. Too raw. Too untrusting. I was going to do what I did best—push him away. Even though it hurt, I was going to drive him away. “I can’t,” I said, with little conviction.
He pulled back and took my necklace between his fingers. “Then why do you wear this? That’s my sparrow and you wear it wherever you go, because you don’t want to let go of me.”
He was right, but it was time that I did. If we had only been more open and honest with one another, he might have been the man for me. As it was, my stubbornness and pride couldn’t see past how I believed he’d wronged me. I took it off my neck and handed it to him. “Here,” I said.
“No!” he said, throwing it onto the bed. “No. You aren’t doing this.”
I took a strangled breath, trying to gain some strength. “Find out what you love, Lucas. Open your music store, sell the bar, quit the band, if that’s what it is. Do it and be happy. Because I can’t let myself hurt anymore. It’s too much, and I can’t do it.” This felt wrong. Something was screaming in my head to take it all back. I’d made my power move. I’d proven that I could be strong and pull away.
“So you want me to leave?” he asked, sounding just as broken as I felt.
“Yes,” came out of my mouth, but it didn’t feel right. It wasn’t what I wanted to say.
Before I had time to reconcile the feelings inside me, he walked back to the bed and grabbed his suitcase. Angrily, he zipped it. “I wish I would’ve fucked Gwen,” he said. “And Candace. At least then all of this would be for something.” With his suitcase in hand, he came to stand in front of me again. “We weren’t dating, remember. I wasn’t your boyfriend, but I’ve been trying to make it right. Well, now I’m fucking done trying.” He stormed to towards the door. “You can keep everything I leave behind,” he said without turning around.
I should have chased him, but my legs gave from under me and I crumbled to the ground.
Chapter 35
After Lucas left, I didn’t leave my room for the rest of the day. I couldn’t. Inside I was a mess. Part of me felt like ending it and sending him away was the best thing. We’d already hurt each other, broken trust, and riddled our relationship with doubt. No matter how sweet he was, or how affectionately he touched me, I couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d done with Candace. He’d woken up that morning with her in his bed, and then he’d come to my house, had sex with me, and stayed in mine. He claimed that he’d barely kissed her. He claimed that nothing happened. But the days before he’d left and the entire time he was gone, he’d hardly spoken to me, and when he came back, he didn’t even mention it.
Right away, he should have told me. If he cared about my feelings, he should have explained the situation when it was happening. Instead, he said nothing. All I received were sweet words and promises. His parents, his sister, they all had looked at me with such happiness, not giving away what they’d known had happened days before. It made me feel like a fool. I’d walked around that yard, tucked into Lucas’ side while Candace watched knowing that she’d kissed him and lay by his side.
Then Paul’s words would ring in my ears. Love is risk. Maybe he was sorry, and he’d learned his lesson. Maybe he would never do it again. Maybe it was a risk worth taking.
But then maybe it was all lost. My parting words had been to the point. Basically, get on with your life, because I’m finished here. I’d been too harsh, not leaving any hope for the future. Only hours before, we’d been at the park, laughing and playing. But my stubbornness and heavy heart always seemed to cloud our happy moments. I could never let go of the past. Or let go of me. It felt like I was incapable of ever having a relationship with
anyone.
The next day, I went to a store and bought a charger. After powering my phone, I briefly reviewed the text messages and voicemails, deleting them all, before calling him. “This is Lucas. Leave a message,” greeted me.
Throughout the day, I attempted to reach him, but it always went to voicemail. I told myself that if he didn’t answer within 48 hours that I needed to let it go. He didn’t want to speak to me.
On the last attempt, it began ringing—each one long and deafening. Once I counted to five, tears filled my eyes, because I knew that he wasn’t picking up. I didn’t leave him a message, and ended the call.
Juanita informed me that my father would be coming home the next day. I was overjoyed, not only because that meant he was better, but also because I was dead set on repairing our relationship. This was one I could still save, and planned on it. For too many years, he and I had danced around each other, holding one another at arm’s length, too battered and bruised to let the other in. That was going to change.
On the day of his arrival, Juanita hovered, never letting me have a moment alone with him. But it was fine. Something had happened between my father and me in that hospital room. Every time he thought she wasn’t looking, he’d roll his eyes. I’d smile, but also thought it was sweet. If what she’d said was true, and they’d been together for seven years, she must love him.
After my dad was in bed for the night, I went to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. As I stood in the doorway, I saw Juanita by the counter, her shoulders slightly shaking. It looked like she was crying. Hoping that it wasn’t bad news about my father, I approached her. “Is everything okay?” I asked.
Her head came up, and I saw the tears streaming down her face. “It’s wonderful,” she smiled. “He’s home. He’s alive and he’s home. I thought that I was going to lose him.”
Voicing it made her cry a little harder, and I surprised myself by giving her a hug. “I know,” I said. “I’m happy, too.
For the next few days, she and I helped my father recover, and we ended up being quite a good team. She’d tell him what he needed to do, and when he wouldn’t listen, I’d get cross with him, not afraid to raise my voice. After a while, he learned to listen to her, in fear of my chastising.
When I’d been there for nearly three weeks, I decided it was time to go home. Finding a new job was at the top of my priority list. Staying and starting over had crossed my mind. But I couldn’t. My home wasn’t New York anymore. With the decision to leave made, I sought out my father.
While Juanita was out shopping, I found him sitting in the living room, reading a magazine. Wordlessly, I sat in the chair across from him. He peered over the top at me, but resumed reading. I was trying to gather my nerves when he asked, “Where did Lucas go? Did something at his bar send him back home?”
“Sure,” I said, not wanting to get into that with him.
“I like him, Marlowe. It’s obvious he really cares about you.”
“Why do you say that?” I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.
“Well, we talked a bit, but more importantly I saw it in his eyes. You can’t fake that. A man gives it away through his eyes. It pours out of them. And he couldn’t hide it.”
He used to look at my mother that way, and I was so sure that their love would survive anything. If he’d sought the comfort of Juanita after her death, I would have been able to stomach it, but knowing that they’d been together before it made me angry.
“Did mom know you were having an affair with Juanita?” I asked, not wanting to dance around it.
The magazine lowered as he looked at me. After a moment, he discarded it entirely. “Yes,” he said carefully. “But…” His hands fisted together as he thought about how to continue. “It wasn’t what you think.”
“What do you mean?” I angrily asked. “How can it not be what I think?”
“Your mother and I had been having problems for a few years,” he said and I didn’t believe him. I’d never seen them argue or fight. They were always genuine with their love.
“I don’t believe you,” I said. “I would have known.”
“We worked hard to hide it from you and Holly,” he said. “For an entire year we went to counseling. She was unhappy and wanted to leave. She said I worked too much, that I never had time for her. And she was right. I never did. I wish I could go back and tell myself how little time I truly had left.”
I remained quiet as he wiped his eyes. His face was suddenly red, holding back the tears threatening to fall. “I don’t know if you remember,” he said. “But about a year before their death I did cut back on my work hours. I was around more often, making it a point to be home every night for dinner and spending as much time as I could with all of you on the weekends.”
I did remember. But it hadn’t lasted long. “It was only for a few months,” I said.
“Yes,” he said solemnly. “It turned out that when your mother got what she wanted, she realized that she didn’t love me anymore. It was over. She wanted a divorce. It was the best thing. You might not have known, but she was unhappy. I agreed, but we couldn’t decide when the best time to tell you girls would be. We kept pushing it back. Eventually, she started seeing a man she met at the bank, and I started seeing Juanita.” New tears had formed, and I sat in the chair in utter shock, unsure if I should buy into this story or not. “I never stopped loving her,” he said on a sob. “Never. Not during the counseling, or the talks of divorce. Not even when she met someone else. I kept hoping…” he trailed off, seeming to lose himself.
Unable to see him break down on the couch, looking so alone and defeated, I rose and sat next to him, hugging him around the shoulders. He came to me willingly, crying into my shirt. After he settled himself, he pulled back and gave my hand a squeeze.
“You should have told me,” I said. “I might have understood.”
“I couldn’t,” he said. “I just couldn’t. You’d already lost her. I didn’t want to add that hurt to it. That’s why I tried to hide Juanita from you.”
“Well, you were pretty successful,” I smiled with some effort. “Seven years is a long time to keep something like that a secret.”
“I would have told you,” he said. “I knew that I’d have to eventually, but we saw each other so rarely, I didn’t want to soil our time with that discussion.”
“Is that why you’ve been hiding from me the last year?” I asked. “Because I knew about her and you knew I’d have questions?”
“I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head in pain. “I’m a horrible father. I’ve ruined so many things between us.”
I hadn’t helped much. If I thought about it, I’d pushed him away just as much as he’d pushed me. “I forgive you,” I said. “Can you forgive me?”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” he said. “You’re my daughter and I love you. Always. I’m going to be better for you from here on out. I promise.”
I believed him.
My father and Juanita saw me off at the airport. As the plane lifted off, I felt lighter. We’d made mistakes, both of us, from the moment of my mother and sister’s deaths. There was no taking them back, but we could move forward, start over, and be better to one another.
I’d been at my father’s for almost a month, and Lacey and Ian’s wedding was fast approaching. Of course, I was nervous. Lucas would be there. After our parting words, I was afraid of what he would say when he saw me. Or wouldn’t say. Even after the Candace incident, he’d tried to communicate with me. Now he might not. Now I might be nothing to him.
During the week before the wedding, I saw him once, and that was only his back as he walked into his house. Wally wouldn’t discuss him with me. His exact words were, “If you’re so curious about how he’s doing then go talk to him.” Charles didn’t have anything to offer either. He’d been busy and hardly saw him.
A few times, I nearly went to his house. I’d see his Buick sitting in the driveway, knowing he was only a few feet awa
y and have an overwhelming desire to go to him. One time I made it to the middle of the street, but turned back.
It felt like it was too late for us. He ruined it. I ruined it. It was hard to see whose fault it really was. Maybe we both had equal parts to play.
The day of the wedding, I wore the purple dress from my graduation. It was the only one in my closet that fit and wasn’t black. Black to a wedding felt depressing. Charles was taking Priscilla, but Wally didn’t have a date and asked me to be his.
He met me in the foyer of our home wearing dark jeans, and a deep tan, short-sleeved shirt. It had a few buttons at the collar, but the first was undone. Despite it looking casual, he looked damn good. It hugged his slight frame, showing off his slender muscles, but made me look a little over dressed. “We should have coordinated,” I said.
“All good, babe. You look great.” He hugged me into his side and gave me a kiss on the side of my head. “Let’s go watch Ian make a huge mistake.”
“Stop it,” I said, nudging him off me. “Maybe Lacey is the one making the mistake. Why does it have to be the guy being stuck with the ‘ball and chain’? Girls give stuff up too you know.”
“Like what?” he laughed as we walked to the car. “You sit around dreaming about this from the time you’re in grade school.”
“I don’t know. Stuff,” I said, rolling my eyes.
Since this was such short notice, they were getting married behind her parent’s house. The reception was a drive to her dad’s hunting lodge. Even though it was outside and the end of July, the weather was actually pleasant. In front of a big oak tree at the back of the property was where they would be saying their vows. I had the ridiculous thought that Lucas would like that—saying vows in front of a massive tree. Obviously, when I imagined it, I was the woman standing across from him, and the idea made me feel silly. And sad.
White folding chairs were lined up in front of it, and Wally and I took our seats. I spotted Charles and Priscilla a few rows down and gave them a wave. We were the only ones on our row, but soon people started filing in, and I wondered when Lucas was coming. It would be the first time that we’d seen each other since New York, and I started self-consciously adjusting my hair and dress.
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