by Cecy Robson
I straighten my legs, keeping Luci on my lap. She hangs onto me, afraid to let me go. “We did, but I wanted us to be good together. You saw my parents, right? How dedicated they are even after all these years and how much they genuinely like each other.”
“They’re wonderful together,” she agrees quietly. “Something I’ve always dreamed of having.”
She means what she says which only makes me feel like more like an ass. “I never dreamed of it,” I confess. “Like a fool, I just assumed I’d have it.”
“What do you mean?”
It’s hard not to sound like an arrogant son of a bitch. I manage well enough. “My parents instilled a lot of confidence in me, praising me when I deserved it, all the while slapping me upside the head when they felt I deserved that, too. But since my achievements always seemed to outnumber my screw-ups, and because I honestly cared about the people around me, I thought I was a good man, and would get some good back.”
“You are a good man,” she interrupts. “And you’ve earned everything you have.”
“Maybe. Maybe not,” I tell her, lifting my chin although I hadn’t realized it dropped. “But I wasn’t a smart man, not when it came to Bernadette. My folks knew each other only a couple of months before my father fell on one knee and asked my mother to marry him. He told me he knew she was his forever.” I press my lips, not wanting to admit what I do. “I expected the same thing to happen to me. In my head, I did all the right things, worked hard, earned my degree, did right by others. Why would marriage be any different? Why wouldn’t I pick the right one?”
Luci listens as she always does. I only wish I didn’t have so much to say.
“I wanted to help her,” I tell her, even though I’ve told Luci as much before. “It should have been a good thing, but it ended up blinding me to all her faults. Call it a superhero complex, but it’s like I needed to swoop in and save her.”
Save her from those damn clear heels and all that techno shit she used to dance to is more like it.
Luci’s shoulders droop and she seems to struggle to speak. “You’re sweet.”
“Ah.”
“And generous,” she adds, because I’m not feeling like enough of a moron.
I turn toward the long setting of windows. It’s better than looking at her and all the guilt stabbing my spine.
“Landon, why do you look so angry?”
“I picked the wrong woman to help. I thought she was a victim, seeing the household she grew up in and how fucked up her family was.”
Luci falls perfectly still. I want to say guilt and shame clouds her gaze, but that doesn’t seem right. It’s not like she’s done anything wrong. “Bernadette wasn’t a victim,” I say. “Not anymore. Be it life or just her, but she became the victimizer.”
“Maybe she didn’t mean to.”
“What?” I ask, unsure why Luci feels the need to defend her.
“Maybe she was desperate or down on her luck?”
“More like up on a pole,” I mutter.
She tilts her head, appearing confused until realization smacks her awake. “She was a stripper?”
“Exotic dancer,” I mumble.
She blinks back at me. It’s better than shoving me away which is what I was expecting. “I’d taken my friends to a gentleman’s club.”
“A gentlemen’s club,” she repeats, like I couldn’t possibly be this dumb. Except I was.
I clear my throat. “She caught my interest.”
“I’ll bet she did.” She cuts herself off. “Is that what your sister meant about the tassels, and, and, the glitter? Oh, God, and the bedazzling? Tell me you didn’t marry a woman with a bejeweled vagina.”
“Of course not!” I snap. She looks at me. “Okay, yeah.”
“She was dancing to pay for her college,” I offer. Hey, I already sound stupid, might as well keep going down the imbecile expressway.
“That’s understandable,” she says, nodding. “Most colleges take singles.”
“I know how it sounds. Believe me. But some of those women are genuinely decent and trying to make a living. She just wasn’t one of them.” I swipe at my face. “I wanted to help her,” I remind her. “But in spite of everything she did to me, it took me finding her blowing her manager in my kitchen to make me leave.”
“What?”
Again Luci stops moving. “I caught them together, saw everything she did to him. It shouldn’t have taken so much, but it did. Like I said, I wanted it to work and would have done anything to make it happen.”
Luci buries her face in her hands, her petite frame quivering.
“Are you laughing at me?” I ask. She doesn’t answer, her body continuing to shake. “All right, fine. But believe it or not, I was trying to do the right thing. All I got was a shit ton of depression and more regret than I can stand.”
I bite back a curse, all the anger that lingers finding its way out of me. “We had more blow-ups than I count, and too many moments where she humiliated me in front of my family and colleagues. Every fight, every harsh word, every time she pushed me away was bad, but it didn’t compare to finding her with another man. She never intended to be mine, and she sure as hell didn’t give a damn about me.”
Luci’s hands lower carefully, revealing the tiny tears glistening in her pretty eyes. The shimmer across her gaze and the gentleness she meets me with dissolves all the bitter memories and extinguishes my remaining anger.
She kisses me softly, as if I’m the one crying, not her. “I’m sorry she couldn’t be your everything,” she tells me.
Luci should be calling me out for being naïve. She should be leaving my arms and my bed for being such an idiot. Instead, here she is, allowing her heart to shatter all because mine did.
“I’m sorry she hurt you,” she whispers.
“I’m not,” I say, sounding harsher than I intend. “Not anymore, not when that loss gave me you.”
She cups her mouth, stunned.
I lower her hand, enclosing it with mine and placing it against my chest. “I may not be ready to tell you I love you,” I say. “Not after everything I went through. That doesn’t mean I don’t feel it every time I look in your eyes.”
Her head bows. “Don’t say that just to placate me.”
Her words, and the way she says them, reminds me how rough she’s had it. I won’t be another asshole who hurts her. But I also can’t be the hero she needs. Not yet, even though I mean what I say.
“I’m not trying to placate you, Luci.” In the tears filling her eyes, that final part of me finishes breaking, the one that stowed my happiness good and tight, and made believe I’d never find it. My knuckles skim to the curve of her spine. “I swear, I’ve never meant anything more.”
A small tear escapes her eyes. Yet she smiles, conveying her tenderness and beauty, and reminding me how much she means to me.
Tell her, I think. Tell her you love her.
Despite how my soul awakens, prepared to love her in return, I don’t speak the words she needs to hear.
Instead, I show her, through the kiss I greet her with, and everything that follows.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Landon
We roll in front of my parent’s house at ten of six. “Never apologize for being early,” my father always told me. “But be damn sure you’re never late.”
Luci was raised the same way and would have been ready an hour early if I didn’t keep stripping her out of her clothes every time she attempted to get dressed.
I step out of my dark blue Maserati, stretching as I breathe in the salty sea. My parent’s house is a short walk from the shore, but not on the beach like mine. They like the view from their bedroom and rooftop terrace, but preferred some distance from the water should a hurricane hit. I pause mid-stretch when I see Luci inch out, her gaze alternating between the large stretch of lawn where weeping willows, palmettos, and dogwoods spread out to create a picturesque gard
en straight out of a classic portrait, to the light brick house I grew up in.
“How you doing, baby?” I ask. I come to her side and lift the dish of rosemary potatoes out of her hands. She’d planned to bring dessert, but changed her mind when Momma texted to say she’d baked several pies.
“I’m all right,” she says, in a way I don’t quite believe her. Her gaze lifts up toward the house. “This is beautiful,” she says.
“Yeah, it is.” I shut the passenger side door as she eases away. “Momma has a way with plants and gardening.”
“She did this herself?” Luci asks.
I reach for her hand and lead her up the brick steps when she hesitates. “She did. It’s been her passion forever and one of the many things she did to make this house a home.”
“It’s amazing,” she says.
She means it, but I don’t like how she seems to curl inward. My parent’s place is larger than mine, and the property that much grander. That doesn’t mean the kindness is any less, and my father proves as much when he opens the door. “Well, look who’s here,” he says.
The scrutiny he first met Luci with vanished four blushes into our first dinner. Now, only a big smile remains. “How y’all doing?”
“Good, sir,” I reply, noting another blush from Luci and how that widens Daddy’s grin.
“You have a lovely home—”
Daddy pulls her into a bear hug, cutting her off. “Silvie, Silvie. Landon and Luci are here!” he yells, placing his arm around her and leading her inside.
I walk beside them, trying not to chuckle at the way Luci takes in the foyer. A winding staircase leads to the second level where the bedrooms are, while another leads down to the basement bar, game room, and screening area. “Are we eating outside or in?”
“Outside,” Trin calls, hurrying out to the kitchen.
“Pool or terrace?” I ask marching forward.
“Pool,” Momma calls from the kitchen.
“Hey, Luci,” Trin says. She gives her one of those cheeky kisses girls do. “Oh, what did y’all make? I told y’all you didn’t have to bring anything.”
“Herb potatoes, but that was all, Luci,” I answer.
“It was no trouble—”
Trin cuts her off. “Momma, Luci made herb potatoes,” she yells. “Wasn’t that sweet?”
“So sweet,” Momma says. She rushes forward, her long white hair that she keeps in a braid dangled thrown over her shoulder and the floral apron she’s had forever firmly in place.
“Hi, Luci,” she says. “Don’t you look, pretty. Hi, baby,” she adds when she sees me.
“Hi, Momma.” I bend down to give her a kiss, avoiding the large dish she’s carrying. Once more Luci tries to tell them she has a nice home, once more she’s denied. “Dinner is ready. Let’s get downstairs. Becca will be here soon.”
“Becca’s coming?” I ask.
The excitement in Trin’s smile fades. “She needs to,” she says. She looks to Luci. “You don’t mind, do you?”
“No, of course not,” Luci says.
“Aw, honey,” Trin says. “Thank you. But if you’re going to be heard around here, you have to be louder than that.” She ushers us toward the stairs. “We’re right behind you, we just need to carry a few things down.”
“Here, sugar, let me take that,” Daddy says.
“Luci, do your potatoes need warming?” Momma asks.
“A little,” Luci says. She smiles although she seems overwhelmed.
“Landon, be a dear and use the downstairs oven,” Momma says. “The two in the kitchen are full.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
We follow Daddy down to the outside dining area overlooking the pool. “You have a lovely home,” Luci says.
Bless her heart, this time, someone hears her. “Thank you,” Daddy says.
He turns to where Callahan is drying off his son. “Landon, Luci,” Callahan says with a tilt of his chin.
“Hey,” I say over Luci’s quiet, “hello”.
I place the potatoes in the outside oven and crank the heat, bending down when Callahan sets my nephew on the floor. “Where’s my buddy?”
Cal, Jr., grins and wobbles toward me, laughing when I swoop him in my arms. Like me, his attention turns toward Luci, and also like me, he appears to come alive when he catches her smile.
Momma and Trin make about three trips up and down the stairs and refusing help like always. “Becca says to start without her,” Trin calls on her last trip.
I sit next to Luci opposite Trin, Callahan, and Cal, Jr., in his high chair. Daddy and Momma sit at the heads of the table. We say grace like good Christians and start talking like bad ones the minute we begin to pass the food.
“Have y’all been skinny dipping at the lake yet?” Trin asks. “Callahan and I tried to go a few weeks ago, but it was still too cold.”
Callahan swallows his first bite of roast like it pains him, because it actually does.
Luci pauses with a spoonful of creamed spinach hovering over her plate. Her face as red as the dress she’s wearing.
Daddy frowns. “It’s always cold at that lake. Why do you think we have a heated pool?” Daddy asks.
“So your grandson can swim in it all year?” Callahan asks, no, more like begs him to answer.
Momma nods thoughtfully. “Well, yes,” she agrees. “But also so we can go skinny dipping.”
“Momma,” I say, covering my mouth with my napkin and trying not to crack up when I catch sight of Luci’s slacking jaw.
“Oh, I’m sorry Landon,” Momma says. “You didn’t get any corn.” She offers the dish to Luci. “Landon has always loved corn.”
“Um,” Luci says, or rather squeaks.
“You done with the spinach, Luci?” Daddy asks.
It’s only then Luci lowers her spoon, passing the spinach along before lifting the dish filled with corn from my mother’s grasp.
“I remember the first time Callahan and I went skinny-dipping,” Trin says, because God forbid she lets the conversation go. “It was in Papua, New Guinea.” She looks at Callahan, head down and shoveling food in his mouth for all he’s worth. “Or was it Ecuador?” She holds out her hands, all excited like, right in the middle of spooning bits of sweet potatoes into Cal, Jr.’s mouth. “No, I think it might have been in this very pool.”
Daddy nods. “I can see that. Salt water is good for the skin.”
Callahan looks up from his plate, his expression as heavy as any who’s shared as many meals as he has with my family. “I’d like to say it gets better,” he tells Luci. “It doesn’t.”
Trin rubs his back, smiling. “He’s just shy, is all.”
He pretends to narrow his eyes, but doesn’t quite manage. Family full of crazy or not, he loves Trin, and would marry her a hundred times over if he could. To prove my point, he hooks an arm around her shoulder and kisses her cheek, making her laugh. I look over at Luci who’s barely touched the small amount of food she served herself. I fork a piece of crown roast and add it to her plate.
“Eat,” I say. “The night is still young and there are plenty more stories to come.”
She doesn’t quite take her first bite when Becca bounces down the steps. “Hey, y’all,” she says.
She’s as enthusiastic as always, but the hug she greets Trin with lasts a little longer than it should and so does the embrace she gives Momma. Momma sweeps Becca’s long hair over her shoulder. “You’re going to be okay,” Momma whispers.
Becca nods in that way women do when they don’t quite believe what they hear, but know if they don’t agree they’ll just break down and cry. She composes herself quickly, greeting Callahan and Daddy. I try to catch her eye when I hug her, but she averts her gaze and smiles at Luci. “Well, hello there, Luci. Nice to see you, shug.”
“Nice to see you, too, Becca,” Luci says.
Becca scoots her chair forward. “What did I miss?” she asks, smiling wh
en Momma passes the first of about twenty dishes she and Trin set out.
“Nothing, the usual, how much I love corn and where everyone skinny-dips,” I offer. Hey, they’re going to say it anyway, might as well beat them to the punch.
Becca frowns. “The lake still too cold this time of year?”
“It is,” Trin says. “I don’t remember it being this cold in high school.”
“Me either,” Daddy adds. “I remember my friends and I swimming in that thing as early as February one year.”
“I think it’s an age thing,” Becca reasons. “Lord, once I hit twenty-six I couldn’t tolerate water colder than eighty-degrees.”
My family mumbles in agreement, nodding like they can relate.
“How’s the law office?” Becca asks, cutting the piece of roast she snagged.
“Good, busy,” I reply. “I have a few immigration cases I’m trying to sort through. Each one is worse than the next.”
“I’ll bet,” Becca says, making a face. “So much for give me ‘your tired, your poor. Your huddled masses.’”
My family and I nod, this time with less enthusiasm. “How’s Mr. Ballantyne, Luci? I swear I haven’t seen him and his wife in ages.”
“He’s fine,” Luci replies slowly.
I lower my fork as I realize why Luci answers the way she does. But it’s Trin who asks the question I’m suddenly dying to know. “Becks, how did you know Luci works with Landon?”
Becca wipes her mouth, but doesn’t quite wipe off her grin. “You didn’t,” Trin tells her.
Becca smiles at me.
“No,” I say, glancing from Luci’s stunned expression back to Becca’s all-too-knowing one.
She laughs. “Someone had to say something, Landon. Lord knows you’d all but given up.”
“I don’t believe you, Becca.” That’s not true. I do. I just can’t believe I didn’t figure it out before.
“Nine women, Landon,” she reminds me. “I introduced you to nine women dying to meet you and where did your eyes go wandering off to? This young lady right here. You’re welcome,” she adds, pointing.
“You didn’t see us,” I argue, trying to make sense of it all.