After all that I’m still not ready to talk to him.
“We broke up…I think, or did you forget?”
Leo shakes his head. “I get that you’re hurting and think he doesn’t understand. Trust me he gets it.”
“Then maybe you’re the one who doesn’t get it.”
“It was a few hours, Gabs. Cut the guy some slack.”
Introducing the fan club President of Team Lucas.
When my mom called about my grandmother Lucas was the only one I wanted. Yet after what transpired between us I couldn’t find it in me to lean on his shoulder for comfort when he’d hurt me days before. Apparently this was obvious to my family. Leo’s been pointing this out ever since.
Traitor.
“You’re being stubborn.”
“It’s none of your business,” I remind him.
“You’re my sister. That makes it my business.” He leans a little closer. “You aren’t going to be able to avoid him for long.”
My head snaps in his direction. “What does that mean?”
“You’ll find out at our next Sunday dinner.”
“You invited him?” I hiss as quietly as possible.
“Something like that,” Leo chuckles and sits back.
Thank God the organist begins playing because I have never wanted to strangle my brother so badly.
“Today we are gathered here to celebrate the life of Nicoletta DiVergilio.” The minister begins and my eyes drift to the casket and then the picture of my grandparents displayed to the left.
It’s one of my favorites, taken at Vincent’s wedding six years ago before my grandma had any signs on dementia and my grandfather was still in good health.
And now they’re both gone.
My throat tightens remembering the last time I saw my grandfather. Despite the effects cancer had taken on his body he was still upbeat and smiling until the end. He held my hand as I curled up to his side with his favorite jazz musicians playing in the background while I listened to him recall his fondest memories of the two of us.
Crying wasn’t an option and not because he wouldn’t tolerate it; it didn’t seem fair for his last memory of me to be bawling when he was so stoic. So instead I snuck him a slice of chocolate cream pie for him when no one was looking and told him stories of my own. I left him that night, thankful that we’d had those hours together.
He passed away the next day.
Maybe that’s what makes today so much harder. My grandfather was lucid and very much the same man on his last day that he was his entire life. In contrast, my last memory of my grandmother is of her hugging a stuffed animal she thought was her pet because she was frightened I would take it away.
I can get over feeling personally gypped; my grandmother was a constant in my life and her last years don’t outweigh the relationship we had before that. What breaks my heart is that she died confused and scared without remembering how many people loved her.
Alzheimer’s is ugly and unfair.
Leo squeezes my hand and whispers in my ear that it’s time for my reading. I nod and step forward with my printout of Ecclesiastes in my hand.
The minister ushers me to the podium and adjusts the microphone. I glance down at the words and clear my throat in attempt to swallow my grief for the minute it will take to get through reading the passage.
“There is a time for everything,” I begin, raising my head to see the congregation filled with familiar faces.
I continue reading the first line of, “a time to live” without trouble but then the phrase about dying gets caught in my throat. Tears fill my eyes, making it impossible to see, not that I’d be able to speak the words on the page anyhow.
“Deep breaths,” the minister whispers at my side and hands me a tissue.
I nod my head and do what he says, drawing air in and letting it out several times.
I wipe my eyes and look to my mom, who’s holding her hand over her heart, then to my dad who’s holding onto her and watching me with compassion. I open my mouth and close it several times. I can’t do it.
I turn to the minister looking for help but it’s a familiar set of arms wrapping around my shoulder from the opposite direction and pulling me into his side that brings me relief.
Silently sobbing, I clench the material of Lucas’s suit and bury my face in chest. Then I listen as he completes the reading for me, rubbing my arm in comfort the entire time.
He’s here.
When he’s finished I let him lead me back to the pew. My family shifts over to accommodate my plus one. I sense everyone looking at me but I can’t look up, too mortified that I needed to be rescued. And by a man who both stole and broke my heart.
I straighten, pulling myself out of his embrace and focus on the rest of the service and not the storm brewing in my head and heart. It’s not like I can escape. The church is packed and I’ve already made enough of a scene. So when he takes my hand in his and places them in his lap I let him.
At the end of the service Summer and Kyra step to the side and wait for me in the aisle.
“Are you all right?” Summer asks, folding me into her arms.
I nod and offer a weak smile. “Yeah.”
“We offered to help set up at the restaurant. We’ll see you there in a bit, okay?” Kyra informs me.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
Summer hugs me once more. “We wanted to. We’ll see you soon.”
As they leave I step back, running into Lucas’s chest, which sends tingles sprinting up my spine. It’s sad how hard it is to hang on to my anger with his body pressed against mine. It’s even harder when he gently places a feather light kiss on top of my head and bends down until his lips are next to my ear.
“We should join your family outside.”
Finding my resolve I turn to face him. “Thanks for coming, Lucas, but I’m fine. You can go.”
Before I have a chance to walk away he takes both of my hands in his. “This isn’t an attempt to take advantage of the situation, Gabriella. I only want to be here for you.”
What the hell am I supposed to do with that? Accept it apparently since we head out of the church together without a word.
We slip into the back of the limo with my family, me looking out the window and Lucas making small talk with my father and brothers. True to his word he stays by my side, taking my lead. If I look to him for consoling, he’s there. If I pull away, he lets me. Had I not felt the scrutinizing stares of my soon-to-be former co-workers, I’d probably forget I had a reason to be mad.
But I do.
At least that’s what I keep reminding myself throughout the burial.
Back at my family’s restaurant, I busy myself in the kitchen by putting together a tray of au d’oeuvres to avoid mingling. This reception is supposed to be a celebration of life, a time to reflect with family. I’m not even up to seeing my friends. All I want to do is hide.
Apparently that’s not on my agenda.
“I’ve got this,” Lucas says, taking the tray. “Go be with your family.”
I’ve got this. The same words he’d said to me during our first meeting, meant at that time to keep me at bay. This time those words hold reassurance and support in a tone that says I’ve got you.
Despite the conflict between my head and heart I reluctantly follow him into the dining area and watch from the corner of my eye as he stops near each group of mourners and offers them food, making small talk and offering condolences.
He’s trying. That should count for something. Yet in the back of my mind I can’t mute the irritating reminder telling me that he should have tried harder before. What guarantee do I have that he’s here for any other reason than to win me back or prove his point? That he won’t freak out and retreat into himself the next time we face an obstacle?
There are no guarantees in life and worrying about it is exhausting.
I make the rounds and check on my parents, being sure to stick to the opposite side of the room
as Lucas. When I’m satisfied that my mom is okay, I sneak down the hallway to the back office where I kick off my shoes and plop behind the desk to flip through old photo albums.
“How are you holding up?”
Startled, I jump in my chair and hit my knee on the underside of the desk.
“Shit,” I wince.
Lucas crouches beside me to inspect my leg. “Sorry about that. You alright?”
“Fine,” I lie.
One large hand cups my knee, gently rubbing away the pain. The other is wrapped around my calf. The electrical charge I felt the first time his hand landed on my leg under a different table pales in comparison to the surge I’m experiencing now.
Desperate to feel something other than grief, I sit forward and press my lips to his. He stills for the shortest measure of time and then suddenly he’s kissing me back just as frantic. I run my fingers through his hair while our tongues swirl and moan into his mouth as his hands travel upward, under my dress until they’re gripping my underwear.
Then he stops. “Not here. Not like this.”
Lucas pulls my dress down and stands while I attempt to catch my breath.
“Why not?”
“For starters, I just got done telling your father that at some point in the future I’ll be asking for his permission to marry you. Second, you’re grieving and that felt a hell of a lot like a goodbye.” He tips my chin up so that I’m forced to look at him. “And I won’t accept anything less than forever.”
It’s confusing. Wanting to be with someone because you love them so much that any amount of separation hurts, and at the same time knowing that being together has the potential to hurt so much worse.
“I’m not ready.”
“All the more reason to stop.”
“What if I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready?”
He watches me intently, processing my question. “Then I’m not doing a good enough job.”
I sit back. “Is this a game to you? Some challenge to prove you’re still capable of succeeding at whatever you set out to accomplish?”
“I assure you this isn’t about boosting my ego or proving something to myself.” He slides his hands in his pockets and his gaze drops to the floor in front of my feet. “You were right, you know? About my parents.” He meets my gaze. “I’ve hated my father and ignored my mother’s existence for too long. It’s impacted how I’ve behaved, caused me to make mistakes with you, and for that I’m sorry. I can’t change the past, but I’ve made steps to get closure.” He leans down, placing his hands on either side of my chair. “I love you, Gabriella. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. That’s the reason I won’t accept anything less than forever. I’m simply trying to show you how sorry I am so that we can move forward.” He leans in and brushes his lips against mine. “The reception is winding down. I’m going to help clean up unless you need me.”
I shake my head not trusting myself to speak.
He accepts my silence and leaves.
Later that night, I sit on the couch between my friends and cry. Kyra wraps her arm around me and gives me chocolate. Summer hands me a glass of wine. It’s a ritual that lasts over a week.
Until my friends have had enough. A position they make clear one afternoon by ripping the blankets off my bed.
“Hey,” I squeal. “I was sleeping!”
“It’s noon,” Summer informs me, hands firmly planted on her hips.
“Haven’t you heard of napping?” I ask.
“We love you, babe, but the pity party is over. You need to get up and do something other than lie around all day.” Kyra wrinkles her nose. “I suggest you start with a shower.”
“I’m fine,” I insist as I lift up my arm to take a whiff. “And I smell fine.”
“You’re not fine. The only calls you answer or return are from your parents.”
“Who else do I need to talk to? I see both of you every day.”
Summer holds out my phone. “Mike for starters. There’s a job offer with your name on it. All you need to do is pick up the phone and tell him yes.”
Groaning, I roll my eyes and get up and move to the bathroom. “Fine, I’ll get up, but only because I have to meet my mom later and I’ll call Mike after I eat if it gets you two off my back. Satisfied?”
Summer gives me a one-shoulder shrug. “For now.”
After my shower I return to my room and quickly change into a t-shirt and a pair of jeans. Then I call Mike to discuss the job he’s offered me at his new company. It sounds perfect and though I typically wouldn’t agree so willingly, I accept the offer on the spot. Turns out HR is my calling after all.
With my two chores crossed off I feel better than I have in weeks.
“All right, I’m done,” I announce as I enter the living room.
Then I stop mid-stride.
The room has been transformed. Pictures have been removed from the wall and the couch pushed to the far side of the room. In the center of the room facing an oversized flip chart paper stuck to the wall is a single chair.
“What’s going on?”
“Sit,” Kyra instructs.
My best friends stand in front of me. “It’s been a week, Gabs. We love you dearly but you’re miserable. You know it, we know…everybody knows it.”
I simultaneously cross my legs and then my arms across my chest. “Are you staging and intervention?”
“Consider it a relationship assimilation,” Summer suggests.
“Why?”
“Because not too long ago you used this process as a way to help Lucas get acclimated to his new job and the people in it. Today, we’re going to use it to help you get acclimated to your relationship.”
“This is ridiculous. I’m no longer in a relationship.”
The two of them glare at me, daring me not to participate.
“Fine, let’s get started.”
Summer and Kyra kick off my “session” by giving me an overview of their process, which is similar to what you’d find in a company assimilation. Standard question such as “what do you want to know about the new leader, what do you think you already know, what issues does the leader need to tend to, concerns and needs”, have been changed.
I walk to the first question.
What do you already know about Lucas?
“Should I start writing?” I ask.
Kyra hands me a marker and steps back to give me room.
What do I know about him? He takes his coffee black. He’s organized. He prefers sleeping naked. He lives in suits. His parents are assholes.
I write down everything that comes to mind and step back, surprised that the page is nearly full. Do I know him better than I think? Still pondering that question I let Summer lead me to the next question.
What don’t you know about Lucas, but want to know?
I laugh as I jot down my one word response. Everything.
Next.
What concerns do you have about being in a relationship with Lucas?
Where should I begin? Lack of communication. Difficulty with change. Unwillingness to collaborate. Struggles with admitting fault.
I jot those thoughts down and move on.
What do I want most from Lucas?
This one is easy. For him to open up and completely give himself to me.
What do I want Lucas to know about me? Interesting question. Doesn’t he already know most of the important stuff? I think about it and note a few things. The list is small.
When I’ve finished Summer and Kyra walk around, taking their time reading each page. Both of them are smiling.
“What’s with your faces?” I ask setting down the marker.
“Can’t you see?” Summer asks, gesturing to the wall.
“See what?”
“Not one response says anything about not wanting to be with him. Sure, you want him to communicate more and be more flexible but if you thought hard about it you’d see those are things he’s been doing. He’s trying.” Kyra stops only to
walk to the first page. “You’d also see that you know him way better than you think. Just because he hasn’t told you things in the typical way or they’ve been hard to get out of him doesn’t change that you have information.”
“You’re on his side, I got the memo,” I say a bit defensively. “I’m surprised you didn’t have t-shirts made.”
“We’re on your side, it just happens to be his side too,” Kyra says while grabbing a bag from the couch. “And you should know better than to underestimate us. Of course we made t-shirts.”
They both shimmy out of their sweatshirts to display their creation.
I step forward to get a better look.
“A four leaf clover. Cute.”
Summer turns to show the back of her pink shirt. It reads Team Lucas above the outline of a rainbow coming out of a pot, and underneath it reads Take My Pot of Gold.
Kyra tosses me the bag. Though I’m annoyed I can’t help but laugh when I pull not one, but two t-shirts out.
I hold them up. “I have options?”
“We know how stubborn you’ve been.”
Since I already know what the pink one says I unfold the grey one. On the front is the outline of a tissue box in pink. On the back it reads Team Misery.
“Nice touch having the Team Lucas shirt pink. Is this like subliminal messaging?”
Smiles form on both of their faces. I knew it!
“Before you tell us which one you’re going to choose I have one more thing to say.” Summer steps forward and takes one of my hands. “You know we support you either way and I’m not big on second chances. But I know first hand about having parents abandon you and the toll that can take on pretty much every aspect of your life.” Being a topic Summer’s only brought up twice while drunk I give her my full attention. “He’s putting himself out there, Gabs. It might not be perfect, maybe it never will be. But the man loves you and is willing to try. That should count for something.”
I squeeze her hand. “It does count. So does everything else.”
“I get it,” Summer agrees. “But if you don’t give him a chance you’ll always regret it. Isn’t it worth taking a risk? Especially when you’re hurting so much by being apart?”
Conflict of Interest (Employee Relations Book 1) Page 32