Lukas

by Carian Cole

  “I take it Paul is your husband?”

  “Yes. Now, he’s saying we may have to sell the house, too, because he moved into a new expensive condo with his girlfriend. It’s really stressing me out.”

  “Shit,” I say, feeling the muscles in her leg tightening as she gets more upset. “That sucks.” Her husband sounds like a first-class asshole to me.

  She shakes her head. “I’m sorry I’m venting to you. It’s just been one of those weeks, ya know? And I guess I’m just an idiot because I didn’t think this stuff would ever be happening to me.” Her voice cracks a little, and I stop working to look up at her. Her eyes are watery and her cheeks are flushed, the sight tugging at my heart.

  “Ivy, you’re not an idiot.” I gently squeeze her leg, aching to comfort her but not knowing how without crossing a line. “I’m pretty sure, when people get married, they don’t expect that they’ll be shafted by that person years later, and have their entire fucking life uprooted.”

  “No.” She sniffles. “I never even imagined it.”

  I wheel my stool across my small work area, grab the box of tissues on my table, and hand them to her.

  “You must think I’m a mess,” she says, taking a tissue and wiping at her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

  “You’re not a mess.” Actually, I think she’s beautiful, and it’s way more than just her looks. I can tell this woman has a heart of gold, and it shines right out of her like a spotlight. “You can vent on me all ya want. I’ve been through a lot of crap myself, so I understand. Trust me. I’m a good listener.”

  I pick my gun up and continue my design on her, trying to be as gentle with her as I can be. Knowing that I’m inflicting even the slightest amount of pain on her bothers me.

  “Are you married?” she asks suddenly.

  “Nope.”

  “Well, you’re young. You have tons of time.”

  I wipe her leg with a cloth. “True. I think I’m one of the few guys that actually wants to get married. I just can’t find the right girl.”

  “That’s hard to believe. You seem like a really nice guy, and you’re very talented. I’m surprised women aren’t lining up for you.”

  I laugh. “Not the right ones, that’s for sure. I tend to attract the crazies or the wrong ones in general. I just broke up with a girl a few weeks ago that I still feel bad about. She was a great girl, really pretty, and we had a lot of things in common. I think she actually cared about me, too. She was the most normal girl I’ve dated in a long time.”

  “That’s a shame. What happened?”

  “She slept with my brother a few times before I hooked up with her.”

  Ivy scrunches up her face. “Oh.”

  “Yeah, exactly. I just couldn’t get past it. Do you think that’s wrong of me? Do you think I should be able to just forget about that?” I ask, wondering if there’s something wrong with me, or if maybe I’m too picky.

  She thinks about my question before answering. “No, I completely understand. I think, for a lot of people, it’s awkward to be intimate with a person someone else you are close to has also been intimate with. Some things aren’t meant to be shared.”

  “Exactly! I couldn’t see myself having dinner with her over at my brother’s house, sitting at his table, knowing he screwed her. It would make me crazy thinking about it, and I don’t think I could not think about. I can’t un-see that shit in my head, ya know?”

  She laughs. “I totally agree. I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you. It just sounded funny, the way you said it,” she says. “I feel sick every time I think about the fact that Paul was having an affair for a whole year before I found out. Just thinking that he was having sex with another woman, and then coming home to me, pretending he had been at work and acting all normal, is disgusting.”

  “Fuck yeah it is. Was he sleeping with both of you? Not at the same time, obviously, I mean, while he was married to you?”

  “Apparently so. He’d stopped having sex with me for months. Almost a year.” She turns her head away from me, her face reddening with embarrassment. “I just thought he was tired from working. I didn’t think he was getting it better someplace else.”

  “Shit. That sucks. I absolutely cannot stand cheaters. I feel really bad for you.”

  She sighs and faces me again. “Please don’t feel sorry for me. I feel lame enough already.”

  “I don’t feel sorry for you. I just feel bad for you because I don’t think you deserve it. He’s a shithead.”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  I add a few more flowers to her design before I get up the courage to ask her my next question. “Did you eat dinner today?”

  “No . . . I didn’t have time to.”

  “When we’re done here, we could go to this little cafe down the street. They’re open ’til midnight. I haven’t eaten yet either.”

  Her leg muscles stiffen again beneath my hands, and I silently beg her to say yes.

  “I don’t know . . . I should probably just go home,” she answers nervously, chewing her bottom lip.

  “To the big empty house? Forget that and come with me. They have killer soups and sandwiches, and their lattes are awesome. Do you really want me to eat alone like a loser?”

  She smiles shyly at me. “No. Of course not.”

  “Then grab a bite with me. Save me from my impending loser-dom.”

  She squirms in the chair. “Lukas, I’d love to save you from your loser-dom, but I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  I flash her my best chick-melting smile. What the hell am I doing? Am I really trying to hook up with a chick a decade older than me? Yes. I am. “It’s just a sandwich. No strings, I promise.”

  She sighs and laughs, and I love how pretty her lips look when she smiles. Like a little doll. “Okay. I am hungry, actually.”

  “Cool. Let’s try to put in a little more design time, and then we’ll go, okay?”

  She nods. “That’s perfect.”

  I have a strict no-dating-the-customers-rule that I imposed on myself when my brother and I opened the shop four years ago. And even though this technically isn’t a real date, I’m growing more and more attracted to Ivy, and I really have no idea why. I work on all kinds of attractive women every day but remain detached from them, even though a lot of them literally throw themselves at me and offer me everything from blowjobs to threesomes. There’s just this thing about her. Maybe it’s her shyness. Or the ache I feel in her. Or maybe it’s the crazy tingling feeling I get every time I touch her or look into her eyes. Either way, I just know I want to spend more time with her without jabbing needles in her.

  “How long have you worked here?” she asks me.

  “My brother and I opened this place four years ago after we inherited some money from our grandfather.”

  Her eyebrows rise in surprise. “Oh! I didn’t realize you owned it.”

  I smile as I add delicate shading to the tender spot just above her knee. “Yup. I own the building, too, and I live upstairs.”

  “Wow, I had no idea. I’m very jealous of your commute,” she teases. “What was here before you moved in? I love the uniqueness of the building. I know it was a church or chapel at one time, right?”

  “It was quite a while ago. Before we moved in, an older couple lived here that sold antiques. They were cool enough to let us keep some of their antique furniture and artwork, too. The furniture in the waiting area is all antiques, and a bunch of the furniture in my apartment is, too. I love vintage decor, especially anything Victorian Gothic.” I pause working on her design. “I’m fascinated with the history that’s attached to certain objects. I feel like antiques have a story to tell, and that they carry with them a little piece of each person who owned it. Like an imprint, I guess. Sometimes, I like to run my hand over the old wood and just try to feel the past seep into me.”

  She listens with a fascinated expression as I talk. “Lukas . . . that’s so beautiful. I’m impressed. Most men have zero interes
t in things like that, especially someone your age.”

  I look up from her leg to meet her eyes. “I’ve never acted my age, Ivy.”

  “Can I ask how old you are?”

  “Twenty four.”

  Her eyes widen. “No fair. I’d love to be twenty four again.”

  I reposition her, and she turns so she is lying on her side so I can get to the back of her leg. I can’t help but notice her shorts creeping up and exposing more of the back of her thigh leading up to her ass. I fight the urge to run my hand up the back of her leg and caress her. I want to hear her moan under my touch.

  I blink and try to refocus on working. “Well, you can’t go back, but you can move forward. Try not to think of what’s changing in your life as all negative,” I encourage her, trying to calm my dick down at the same time. “Try to look at it as an opportunity for new things.” Yes. New things like my lips all over your precious skin.

  “You sound like my friend Lindsay. I guess the two of you must be right.”

  I wheel away from her and place my gun down on my worktable. “Okay, pretty lady, time for a new thing right now. You’re coming to the cafe with me.”

  IVY

  IT’S JUST COFFEE. IT’S NOT A date. Keep him company while he eats, nibble on something, and then go home. No big deal.

  My reflection in the bathroom mirror is not what I want to see. I look tired. My eyes look a bit puffy and dull. A grey hair is visible. Shit! I reach up, carefully grab it, and yank it out.

  Ouch!

  I’m definitely getting my hair done. Soon.

  Rubbing the new sore spot on my head, I wonder why Lukas wants to have dinner with me. Given his age, I’m sure we don’t have too much in common. With his looks, he must have tons of pretty young girls he could be spending time with on a Friday night, not wasting time with someone as boring as I am.

  He feels sorry for your lonely ass.

  I frown in the mirror and tell myself it doesn’t matter what a twenty-four year old guy thinks of how I look. Grabbing my bag, I unlock the door and meet him in the waiting area.

  “How about the Friday after next? Same time?” he asks, scribbling on his calendar again.

  I don’t even bother to check my calendar app. “That’s perfect.”

  “Awesome. You ready?”

  I nod and he comes around the counter. “I know it’s freezing out, but do you mind if we walk? It’s only two blocks. The cold air wakes me up¸” he says as we head outside and he turns to lock the door behind us.

  “Walking sounds great. And I actually really like the cold,” I reply. I love this street; it’s quaint with lots of great little unique stores and boutiques, which is one of the many benefits of living in a small, artsy, New England town. Being December, Christmas lights decorate most of the shop windows, making the street look very much like a holiday card scene. I hope I can find an affordable house to live in, if Paul decides we have to sell our house, because it will break my heart to move from this little town I grew up in and love so much. I want my kids to grow up here like I did.

  “Does your leg feel okay?” Lukas asks. “I didn’t think of how sore it might be when I asked you to walk.”

  I smile up at him, touched by his sweet concern. “It doesn’t really hurt at all.”

  The cafe is small but cozy, decorated very much like a living room. There are small tables adorned with candles, a few loveseats with oversized pillows, pretty Tiffany-style lamps, and an electric fireplace with a large stone mantle. In one corner is a Christmas tree with wrapped presents beneath it. I immediately fall in love and know I will be coming back here. Only four other customers are here at the moment—two sitting on a love seat reading, and two others are chatting softly at a table.

  “Hey, Lukas, you getting the usual?” the girl behind the counter asks, giving him a big toothy grin.

  “Yup,” he replies then turns to me. “The vanilla and brown sugar latte is killer,” he hints.

  “Okay then, I need that. And I’ll have the turkey and cranberry croissant.”

  Lukas pays, refusing my attempt to pay for my own, then leads us over to a secluded table in the corner where we wait for our food to arrive.

  “This place is so cute and cozy,” I say, looking around. “I want to just curl up and read.”

  He nods. “I love it here. I come here almost every night after I close up . . . mornings, too, for my coffee. Sometimes, local musicians play acoustic here at night, so I’ll walk down here, grab a coffee, and listen to some tunes and unwind before I head home for the night.”

  “I have a feeling I’ll be back on the weekends to get breakfast.”

  “Cool. Maybe I’ll catch you here sometime.”

  My cell phone rings, and I pull it out of my bag, knowing it’s one of the kids.

  “I have to take this real quick.” Lukas nods while I bring the phone to my ear. “Hi, Honey,” I say happily.

  “Hi, Mommy.”

  “How’s your night? Are you and Daddy having fun?”

  “Yeah, we watched cartoons, and Charlene made me macaroni and cheese.”

  “That’s great. It’s your favorite.” I hate Charlene.

  “Yours is better, Mommy. Can I come home now?”

  My heart cracks. “No, sweetie. Remember, we talked about you having a sleepover at Daddy’s new house this weekend? He’ll bring you home on Sunday.”

  Lukas frowns and leans back in his chair, stretching his long legs under the table.

  Tommy sighs into the phone. “Okay . . . what are you doing, Mommy?”

  “I’m having dinner with a friend right now, sweetheart. You have fun with Daddy and Charlene, all right? You can call me any time you want to talk to me, and I’ll see you really soon.” I almost choke saying Daddy and Charlene to my own son.

  “Okay, Mommy. I miss you.” Ah, my sweet little boy.

  I smile and hold the phone tighter. “I miss you, too, and I love you a big bunch. Good night, now.”

  “Night.”

  I wait for him to end the call and smile at Lukas as I put my phone back into my purse.

  “He’s having a hard time understanding why things are so different,” I explain.

  He nods, a warm smile on his face, reaching his eyes. “It’s totally understandable. You’re a good mom. Your face lit up when you talked to him. You’re the kind of mom I wanted when I was his age.”

  I wait until the waitress bringing our food has gone before I reply. “My kids are my life.” I take a sip of my latte. “Wow, you were right. This is delicious!” Vanilla and brown sugar latte is sinful.

  He grins. “It’s my fave, and I actually start to jones if I don’t have at least one a day.”

  I take my knife and fork and cut my sandwich into small one-inch pieces, while Lukas watches me in confused fascination.

  “Are you cutting up your sandwich to eat it with a fork?” he finally asks.

  “Yes,” I reply, taking a bite off my fork.

  He laughs as he watches me. “That’s . . . different. Can I ask why?”

  “Are you laughing at me?” I tease. “If you must know, ever since I was really young, I’ve just had this aversion to sticking food into my face, or biting into things. So I eat everything with a fork.”

  “Really? What about, like, ice cream cones, or bananas? Or an apple?”

  I shake my head. “Nope. None of that. I put it in a dish and cut it up and eat it with a fork or spoon.”

  A naughty, crooked grin spreads across his face. “Okay, I’m going to try really hard to refrain from making a sexual comment about all of that.”

  I feign shock. “Lukas! You shouldn’t be thinking about my mouth and sexual things.”

  He groans and bows his head, his long hair falling into his face. “I’m definitely thinking about it now.”

  I know I’m blushing five shades of red, but flirting with him feels good and safe because he’s not a jerk. I sorta like his naughty playful side, and how he’s bringing it o
ut of me, too.

  “Let’s change the subject from what I do with my mouth,” I suggest. “So how about you? Any kids?”

  “Nope. I love kids, though. And I’m still kinda thinking about your mouth.”

  A giggle escapes me before I can stop it. I really shouldn’t be doing anything to provoke him into more flirting. I watch him place his napkin on his lap before he starts to eat, a hint that he was raised with manners.

  “You mentioned a brother. Any other siblings?” I take another bite of food off my fork, ignoring the impish glint in his eye as he watches me chew.

  “No,” he answers. “At least I don’t think so. I didn’t even know I had a brother until about five years ago.”

  “Really?” I ask, my curiosity piqued. “How did that happen?”

  He swallows his food. “According to my grandmother, my father is a famous musician and slept around. A lot. He got a few women pregnant and then just dumped them. He did it to my mother and to my brother’s mother. Who knows who else? Anyway, my mom was only eighteen and had a drug problem.” He pushes his hair back away from his face. “She gave me up to her grandparents, and they raised me. She never came back, and I’ve never met my father.”

  What a horrible way for a child to start their life. I can’t even imagine leaving my kids for anything, no matter what. “Lukas, I’m so sorry. That’s terrible beyond words. Did you grow up happy?”

  He stares across the room for a moment, like he’s pulling up memories from an old album in his mind. “At times, I was happy, yes. My great-grandparents were pretty old and not equipped to have a little kid. My great-grandmother homeschooled me and didn’t let me out much. They raised my mother, too, and she put them through so much they kinda thought that if they kept me safe inside and away from the outside world, I would turn out better and be easier for them to manage.”