by Lily Ryan
It reminds me of Lucas’s house, simple and neat. Although a stack of files are placed on the desk, they sit with perfect precision, one on top of the other, in the IN box. No corners poke out of any of the folders. No stray papers jut out.
The sun rays spill in through the dark wood blinds and accentuate the shine of the mahogany wood furniture. I find it curious that the office doesn’t smell of lemon, orange, or some other wood cleaning scent.
Mounted diplomas hang behind the executive leather chair boasting universities he attended and societies he belongs to. A library of medical books and journals fill the mahogany bookcase across the room. It’s everything I’d expect a doctor’s office to be.
Trying to pass the time, I walk over to the bookcase. A photograph sits there on display. I pick up the small frame and examine the old family photo.
Dr. Stillwell’s dark hair looks thick and wavy, much like Lucas’s. Lucas’s thin frame and baby face give him the appearance of a young teenage boy, maybe fourteen or fifteen. Seated between the two men is an elegant looking blonde woman donned in a cream colored suit and a string of pearls; Lucas’s mother. She’s beautiful.
I wonder how Stacy allows Dr. Stillwell to keep that picture out. Especially when there’s none of her anywhere to be found. Thinking about it, once again I ponder the fact that I’d never once seen her in the office. Does he even love her?
The door creaks open. I feel like I’ve been caught doing something wrong, like watching porn at work. I stand frozen, unsure of what I should do.
“Please sit.” Dr. Stillwell motions toward the seat opposite his as he walks around to his chair. The doctor sits, folds his hands together and eyes me with a smile on his face.
My skin crawls. I want to bolt out of here.
He pulls his chair in close to the desk and leans his elbows on the table in front of him. I can’t help but notice how much he looks like an older, more sophisticated version of Lucas.
“You left so quickly the other evening, I didn’t have a chance to give you this.” Dr. Stillwell pulls open his top desk drawer and takes from it a red envelope. He places it on the desk in front of me.
“What’s this?”
“Your Christmas bonus,” he smiles. “Go on, open it.”
I stick my thumb under the corner of the flap and rip it open. I tug the card from its holder and feign reading it. My eyes take in the amount of the check, but I have difficulty processing it.
I gasp. “Dr. Stillwell, you’ve made a terrible mistake.”
“Please call me Steven.”
“I don’t think that’s wise, sir.”
“You can at least indulge me in my request when we are in private as we are now.”
Lucas won’t like it, but he’ll have to accept it. I nod, “But Dr. Still…, I mean Steven, I can’t accept this.”
I think of all the things I can do with the money; redecorate my apartment, put a down payment on a badly needed new car, go on vacation with Lucas. Lucas will have a shit fit if I take this money. And I’ll feel obligated to his father. I hand the check back.
“Five thousand dollars is more than a Christmas bonus.”
The doctor leans back in his chair, “Surely you heard from the others I happen to be very generous during the holiday season.”
“Yes, but, I’m sure no one else has seen this much generosity.”
“You deserve it.”
“For what?”
“For bringing my son back into my life. No amount of money could ever repay what this has meant to me.”
I swallow hard, choosing my words wisely. “I think you’re getting a little ahead of yourself. I can’t be credited for bringing him back into your life when he’s barely in mine.”
“You’re understating your relationship.”
I need to counter this and quick. “It’s funny that you say relationship. Friendship. Acquaintance. I think those words more appropriately describe what Lucas and I have.”
I see by the amused grin my boss wears he isn’t buying a word.
“Now, now, we both know that’s not true.”
I bring my hand up to my now pounding head, “Look, Dr. Still-Steven, I’ll be honest with you. I do care for your son. I care a lot.”
“I know. And I know he cares deeply for you, too.”
“But until the other night I had no idea he was your son. He told me his father was dead. Dead, Dr. Stillwell. And I’m not about to risk losing what I do have with Lucas, whatever it may be. Some things just can’t be fixed. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be, my dear. I made a terrible mistake. I hurt my son immensely and I’m very sorry I did.”
“I’m sure you are.”
He looks toward the ceiling as a faraway look crosses his face. “I wish I could do it all over. Everything. We could’ve been happy. All of us.” He lets out a deep sigh.
A long heavy silence ensues. I feel very uncomfortable. I have no idea what he expects me to say or do. I want to leave his office, put the unorthodox meeting behind us, but I can’t. Not until he dismisses me. I wish he’d hurry up and get to the point or give me a sign to return to my office, but Dr. Stillwell makes no move.
I clear my throat hoping to bring the doctor back to the present. I think about glancing at my watch, but don’t dare do anything so rude.
“Dr. Stillwell.”
“Steven,” he corrects.
“Steven. I really need to get back to work.”
“One more thing, Olivia. You may think it’s wrong of me to make this request, but would you bring him a letter.”
“I’d rather not. As I said before I don’t want to jeopardize our relationship.” I pause a moment, “Besides even if I brought the letter it doesn’t’ mean he’d read it. I have no influence on him.”
“My dear girl, I’ll accept your reluctance for what it is. It’s okay to say ‘no.’ I understand. But to say you have no influence over my son is absurd.”
If he only knew. I snicker, “I really don’t.”
“Of course you do. He’s in love with you. That’s why he made an attempt to attend the party. It was for you.” Steven Stillwell stands and walks around his desk. He leans against the desk facing me, one leg crossed over the other. “I want to thank you for taking the time to speak with me. I enjoyed it. I look forward to doing it again soon.”
I stand. A wave of relief sweeps over me, allowing the muscles in my shoulders and behind my neck to relax. As I return to my desk I feel a sense of pride swell up and take hold of me. I think I handled myself with confidence and integrity. It’s as if I proved to myself I’m not about to let anyone come between Lucas and me.
Chapter 30
Lucas
I slam the door to my house hard behind me, my body trembles with anger. Not anger, rage. I want a drink. Hell no, I need a drink. Something hard. Something numbing. Vodka straight. I don’t bother to pull out a glass and pour it. I screw off the top and chug.
I don’t even notice the warm sensation as it slides down. Too bad. I want it to hurt, to burn from the inside out. The goal; incinerate my heart. I could do it. I know how, I did it once before and the effects lasted years.
Until I met Olivia.
How the hell did I let her fool me? I’m not some naive teenager sweet on the idea of being in love. I don’t even believe in love. Lust, hell yeah, but love? There’s no such thing. So why in fuck’s name did I tell her I loved her?
Swig after swig of vodka makes no difference. I’m not numb. I still feel and my heart aches. I need to flip that switch inside me. The one that shuts off my emotions, the good ones anyway.
Anger’s what I need to embrace. That’s what kept me going and got me to where I am. And I’m happy. I was. Before her. Before Olivia revived my heart.
I slump down on the couch and run my fingers through my hair. What the hell is wrong with me? Why am I making this hard on myself? There’s nothing more to say or do. I got what I want. I’m done. It’s time to move on.
Olivia
I open the door to my apartment happy to be home. What a long day. I slip off my shoes and drop on the couch. Enjoying the silence, my eyes close a moment. After a few minutes, I rummage through my pocketbook and grab my phone.
I check for any missed calls or messages. Nothing. That’s strange. I haven’t heard from Lucas all day.
I need a fix of him. And those orgasms! Holy hell they’re the best I’ve ever had. I hope he’ll come to me so I don’t have to stuff my aching feet into anything more than a comfortable pair of slippers.
Besides, he hasn’t made it into my apartment yet and it would be nice to have him in my bed. I pull his number up and wait for him to answer.
“Hey,” Lucas sounds far away.
“Hi.”
Silence. The smile disappears from my face. I expect something more, “How was your day?” or “I missed you.” The lack of reaction and interest throws me for a loop.
“Feel like coming over?”
He takes a long breath, “Not tonight. I need to catch up on some paper work.”
“Oh.” My stomach drops. “Do you want me to come there? I could pick something up for dinner.”
“No. I’m really behind. I’ll get more done if I’m alone.”
“If you’re sure.” I don’t try to hide my disappointment. Planning on seeing Lucas got me through the day.
“I am.” A heavy silence hangs in the air.
I don’t want to hang up. I want to tell Lucas about my day, including my strange meeting with his father, but I think better of it. He’s too distracted, too far away. Better to tell him in person.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, sensing that things are far from okay. “I mean are we okay?”
There’s a hesitation before he answers. “Yeah. Fine.”
The call ends and I have no idea what to do. He’s lying and I don’t know why. With a sinking feeling in my stomach I look around my apartment. My walls are decorated with posters from my favorite romance movies.
I know it’s juvenile, but the framed pictures make me feel good. They encourage me to believe in happy endings even when things in my life promise to end any way but. I hope a night apart will make our time together tomorrow more amazing.
The next day it’s more of the same. Lucas doesn’t call or text. But he answers when I call him. Once again he’s apologetic but the message comes through loud and clear. He doesn’t want to see me.
Not seeing or speaking to Lukas make the days drag. I try not to jump to conclusions about what this means for us, but I know it can’t be good.
*
Sandy’s still a bitch and grows more combative each day. It’s like I have a bulls eye drawn on my chest and she’s out for target practice.
Tuesday afternoon she storms into my office yelling at me for not taking my lunch hour. Wednesday, Sandy takes offense to my wardrobe, accusing me of trying to distract the male workers by highlighting my body with a wrap dress. A dress I’ve worn to the office half a dozen time. A dress that comes down past my knee.
Thursday I make my way into the office early and close my door hoping to get to work without being distracted by the sudden emergence of office politics. Politics I obviously don’t understand. This sends Sandy into another tirade.
The door slams open with Sandy behind it. “We have an open door policy in this office.”
“I know, but office hours haven’t even started.”
“If you can’t abide by the rules perhaps you should find a job elsewhere.”
Tears burn my eyes, but I won’t give Sandy the satisfaction of seeing me cry. Instead I busy myself in work, counting the minutes until I can return to the outside world where Sandy holds no authority over me.
In just a few days I’ve learned to hate my job. Only now I feel like I have to stay because Lucas made it an issue. He wants me to quit. I can’t let him win.
Even though I know something’s wrong between us, seriously wrong, I go home every night with hope, and thoughts of seeing him. I know once we’re together, we’ll work it out. But each night Lucas dashes my hopes with another excuse not to see me. Too much work. Too tired. And finally, too sick.
Friday, feeling like I have nothing left to lose I call in sick and spend the day cooking a feast for him. I begin by making the meatballs and sauce simultaneously. Next, I prepare a ricotta filling for lasagna. When the preliminary steps are complete I layer it.
After the main dish, I bake bread with mozzarella and roasted peppers inside. Looking for a simple dessert to make, I choose apple pie.
With the easy to transport meal in my car and high hopes, I toss in an overnight bag and set off to Lucas’s house. I don’t bother calling first. If I do, he’ll conjure up another excuse. Telling me ‘No.’ on the phone is one thing; I don’t think he’ll turn me away once he sees the trouble I went through for him.
I pull into the driveway, get out of the car and carefully pile the pie and bread on top of the lasagna. Once I master the balancing act and have a firm hold on everything I ring the doorbell.
Lucas answers with a glass in his hand. Seeing me, he runs his free hand through his mussed hair. I don’t need to taste the clear liquid in the glass to know it’s vodka, I can tell by the overpowering smell. He reeks.
I drink in his disheveled appearance, the old wrinkled tee shirt and sweats. The stubble covering his face. His red swollen eyes. What the hell?
“Hey.”
“I thought I’d surprise you.” I smile and raise the trays for him to see, “With food.”
“That’s nice but …” he pauses and looks away, “I’m not feeling great.”
“I can see that. You must be nursing a bitch of a hangover.”
He doesn’t answer.
“You really are a shit. You know that?”
Lucas looks at me as if he has no idea what I’m referring to.
“You’ve been lying to me all week!”
“I have not. I’ve been … busy.”
“Yeah, busy knocking back drink after drink,” sarcasm rings heavy in my voice.
“I … I’m sick.”
“Right.” I snicker, “And getting smashed has nothing to do with that.”
“Fine.” You want the truth. I want to be alone. Just left the hell alone!” His voice booms.
Shaking with anger, I push passed him and carry the food into the kitchen. After placing everything on the table I regret not dropping it on the floor at his feet. I go back in the other room and get in his face.
“If you want to end it, fine. But do it like a man.”
Lucas holds the glass to his lips and sucks down its contents. He swallows hard, looks at me, and then looks away.
“It’s for the best.”
“Are you kidding me? At least have the decency to say it. Say the fucking words.” I shove his chest.
He doesn’t move. He takes a deep breath, digging in his heels and stands taller. Stronger. Still not speaking.
“What a disappointment. I never figured you to be this much of a coward.”
“I’m not. You’re just pissed because you gave it up and now I’m done with you.”
Hearing those words enrage me. I don’t think about reacting. Not before my shaking hand strikes his face so hard he drops his glass. I look down at the tiny shards on the hardwood floor, then up to Lucas’s cold grey eyes. Stunned he brings his hand to his cheek.
“You bitch!”
“Now I’m done with you!” His eyes grow wide. I turn on my heel and head for the door.
I don’t make it more than two steps before Lucas lunges after me and catches my arm in his grasp. He turns me around to face him and his frantic eyes search mine. Adrenaline pumps through my veins and has me on high alert.
An awkward silence hangs between us.
“What?!” I demand.
He crushes his mouth over mine. Kissing me with a fervor I’ve never felt before. Forceful. Possessive.
; I’m hurt and pissed and I struggle against him. I break from the kiss, creating distance, but he doesn’t let me go. I push hard and pound my fists against his chest. He pulls me closer. Holds me tighter.
“Stop.” Burying his face in my hair, he whispers, “I’m sorry. Oh God, Olivia, I’m so fucking sorry.”
He seems reasonable so I halt my attack. “Let me go.”
“I didn’t mean it. Please don’t go,” He pleads, stroking my hair. “Don’t leave me. I missed you so much I’m losing my mind.”
“I’m not a yo-yo. You want me, you don’t want me. Make up your mind.”
Lucas searches my eyes, I have no idea for what. He doesn’t acknowledge what I said as he brushes his fingertips along the side of my face, lost somewhere in his thoughts.
I shudder from the warm chill his touch sends through my body, angry at myself for reacting to him like this. He brings his fingers down to my mouth and runs his thumb along my bottom lip.
“Did he touch you?”
“What?”
“In his office did he touch you?”
Lucas’s words along with his inebriated state frighten me. The hair on my arms stand on edge. I have no idea of what the hell he’s referring to. The question sends me reeling. I can’t fathom he even knows it’s me he’s speaking to.
Lucas dips his head down and gently meets my lips with his own. I’m careful not to respond as I ignore the sparks crackling between us.
“Did he kiss you? In his office Monday?”
I pull away. He’s speaking about the meeting with his father. “How do you know?”
I planned to tell him when I saw him, but the way he kept blowing me off I haven’t had the chance. Is he watching me? Following me?
“I came to surprise you.”
“Surprise me? Or check up on me?”
“I had free time. And it was a rough morning. I just wanted to see you.” He explains. “I thought we could have lunch together.” Lucas’s eyes dart away. “I was told you were in a private meeting with Dr. Stillwell and you were not to be disturbed.”