Lukas

by Carian Cole

  Tears stream down her face. “She was in your room. I saw her come out.”

  “She must have snuck in there when I went downstairs to answer the door. She was not in my room, not even for a second.”

  “But why would she do that? She’s never been a devious person, or a liar. Not ever.”

  My heart falls into my stomach. “And I am?”

  She shakes her head and puts her hand over my heart. “No, I’m having a hard time believing that, too. Unless this has all been an act, the past few months with you.”

  “For what? What would I gain from it?”

  “I don’t know,” she cries. “I don’t know what to believe.”

  I run my hand through my hair and do a quick circle, wishing she would let me inside, and that asshole would leave.

  “Ivy, I think Paul put her up to this. He’s messing with your head, trying to break us up. He knew exactly what to do to make you doubt me. He knows how scared you are of getting hurt again, after what he did to you. He set this all up. I know it.”

  She shakes her head wildly back and forth. “He wouldn’t use one our kids to do that.”

  I put my arms around her, ignoring her protests and squirming. “I think he would. I think he did.” I kiss the top of her head and smooth her hair down. “Please, you have to trust me, Ivy. I love you. I love the kids. I would never hurt any of you. I don’t want to lose you.”

  Her face presses into my chest, and her arms circle my waist.

  “I love you, too. I just don’t know what to believe. This looks really bad. Even you have to admit that. I’m confused.”

  I force her to look up at me. “Believe me. Please. You know my heart better than anyone.”

  Her big watery eyes stare up into mine, deep pools of sad blue.

  “Just give me some time to figure this out. I have to talk to Macy alone.”

  “Don’t make me leave. Get rid of him, and let’s figure this out together, okay?”

  “He’s leaving. Lukas, just go home. Give me some time to think and straighten this out.”

  “I want you to put your ring back on. I have it with me.”

  She shakes her head and steps back away from me. “No.” She sniffles and wipes at her eyes, her makeup running down her cheeks. “I can’t do that, not until I figure this out.”

  My vision blurs as pain fills my chest, squeezing my heart. “You don’t know what you’re doing, Ivy. You’re killing us. You’re killing me.”

  IVY

  A LIFETIME OF DAYS PASSES BY. Days wasted, spent doubting myself, doubting my daughter, doubting Lukas. With every day that passes, I can feel the damage being done, not sure if I can fix it. Not sure if any of us can fix it.

  I feel sick. Sick to my stomach. Sick in my head. Sick in my heart. Torn between two people I thought I could trust.

  I saw my daughter walk out of my fiancée’s bedroom, naked, with nothing but a towel on. I cannot get that image out of my head. I just see it over and over and over again, unstopping. She didn’t deny they had been together. She asked him if he was coming back upstairs. Right in front of me.

  Macy may not be perfect, but she’s never been a liar, not even as a little girl. She would tell the truth and just deal with the repercussions of her actions.

  I know she was mad at me when I tried to keep her from going to the party with her new boyfriend. Could she have been mad enough that she would try to get back at me by fooling around with Lukas, or pretending that she did? I can’t even fathom my daughter doing that to me. And how did she know I would be there? That was a last minute decision on my part, to surprise Lukas with coffee. Did she think that quickly and set up a scheme that fast? I can’t picture it her doing that. Not at all. Unless I just don’t know her as well as I think I do.

  But Lukas . . . my sweet Lukas with his dark sensual side. Would he touch my daughter? I’ve known from the start that she had a crush on him. Did that ever go away? Or did I make it worse, having them spend time together, trying to integrate him into our family? Could that have fostered her feelings for him, and she just pretended to be okay with it all, just so she could get closer to him? Macy is beautiful, with a perfect body. Any man would be taken with her, and have a hard time saying no to her if she offered herself to him and made herself available. If she was drunk and flirting with him, was she able to press the right buttons to get him to go over the edge with her?

  Nausea overwhelms me as I try to force myself to envision that scenario—Lukas touching her, taking her into his bedroom, kissing her, and touching her. No. Lukas doesn’t do quickies. Lukas is a lover in every sense of the word. He can’t do meaningless sex. Unless something has been building between them for a while now, and I was blind to it . . .

  Could he have grown bored with me? Maybe Macy, being young, sexy, and carefree was more appealing to him. Like Charlene was to Paul. Macy is so into the band; she would love that lifestyle with him, and fit into it as the young beautiful girlfriend of the rock star. Not like me, the older, boring mom that sits on the balcony with him and drinks lattes.

  You’re what I want. The stability and safety I need. The only one I would trust my heart with. You can make all my dreams come true.

  Those words he told me when he put the ring on my finger play over and over in my mind, acting as the north star of my lost heart and soul right now. He meant them with every part of himself. I know that without a doubt. I felt it straight into my bones. The little boy in the attic, playing with antiques, teaching himself beautiful music, believing he was protected by gargoyles, grew into a man who wanted one thing: someone to love him enough to never leave him.

  I am that person. He believes in that. He trusted in that. I promised that to him. And in return, he offered me everything I want and need, and then some. He gave me the fairytale I dreamed about.

  He would never risk that. Never.

  Would he?

  My heart says no, but then I have to turn to the other side of this coin and face a horrible fact. My own daughter lied to me and set out to hurt me.

  Macy has been staying with Shelley for almost a month, when she finally shows up at the house again, and when she does, she’s in a new car.

  “Where did you get this?” I demand, stepping outside, looking over the shiny new red car in the driveway.

  “Daddy bought it for me. He didn’t want me driving my piece of crap car to college. He said it wasn’t safe.”

  “Really? Is that all?” Of course. It’s all clear now. Tremors of rage course through me.

  “Yes.”

  She walks toward the house, and I follow her inside, hot on her heels.

  “Sit down. We’re going to talk.”

  She turns and rolls her eyes at me. “Mom, I’m tired. I’ve been sleeping on Shelly’s couch for weeks, waiting for things to diffuse.”

  “Diffuse?” I repeat. “Sit down right now. This isn’t over.”

  Throwing her purse onto the couch in a huff, she sits and stares at the floor. “Mom, I’m sorry about Lukas.”

  “Are you, Macy?” I try to keep my voice even. Don’t blow up.

  “Yes, of course I am. I didn’t mean for it to happen . . . it just did.”

  I sit next to her and try to remain calm. “Tell me what happened. All of it.”

  “What? That’s sick, Mom.”

  “I want you to tell me. Now. If you don’t, I’m going to have that car towed right out of the driveway.”

  She shoots daggers at me. “You can’t do that.”

  “Watch me.”

  She squirms, playing with the wrist strap on her phone. “I went to the party with Brent, even though you told me I couldn’t go. I was mad at you. I’m eighteen. You can’t tell me what to do.”

  “As long as you live under my roof, you follow my rules. Continue.”

  She sighs. “I had a few drinks, and he was being a jerk to me. There were a lot of kids at the party, but no one from my school. There were a lot of skanks there, and I found h
im fooling around with one. We had a big fight, and he took off with her and left me there. I had no way to get home, and I didn’t want to call you and hear the ‘I told you so’, so I called Lukas to come and get me. He wanted me to tell you what happened, but I said no, I’d call you in the morning.”

  “Then what? Were you drunk?”

  “Yes. Not like fall on my face drunk, but I was a little messed up. He said I could sleep in his guest room. When we got there, he offered me some clothes to sleep in, and I took off my clothes and kissed him.”

  My blood goes cold. “Why?”

  She shrugs. “Because he’s hot. And I was mad at you.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “We kissed some more, and then we did it. I fell asleep in his bed and woke up when I heard you downstairs.”

  “You did it?” I repeat.

  “Yeah, I was pretty messed up, though, and can’t remember everything that happened.”

  “So he took you into his bedroom?”

  “Yeah.” Uncertainty starts to edge into her voice.

  “Macy, this is serious.”

  “I know.”

  “And you slept in there?”

  “Yes. I woke up when he got up to get the door when you showed up.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “I am not.”

  “You are, Macy, and you’re going to tell me why. But first, I’m going to tell you how I know you’re lying. I know because I believe Lukas. I’ve sat here for weeks, mulling this over and over in my mind and in my heart, because I trust both of you. I love both of you.” I try to fight back the tears, but I can’t hold them in. “You’re my little girl. Everything I’ve done since I got pregnant at eighteen has been for you, to give you a good life, and I never would have thought you could do something like this to me. To anyone, for that matter.”

  She starts to shake and cry. “Mom . . . I’m sorry.”

  I put my hand on her leg. “It is terrible to have to try to choose between two people you love and figure out which one would hurt you, to try to figure out which one would lie to you, and I hate to say this, honey, because it hurts me so much . . . but I don’t believe you. I believe Lukas, because I know how much our relationship means to him and how badly he wanted something real. He would never throw it away.”

  My daughter blinks up at me, her face reddening. “But for some reason, you decided to set out to hurt me, to wreck my life and take away my happiness, and I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why.” I swallow, and she chews her lip, refusing to look at me. “At first, I thought you still had a crush on him. I know what that can feel like. But now, I know what the real reason is, and it’s sitting in our driveway. Isn’t it?

  She tries to stand, but I grab her hand. “Isn’t it, Macy?”

  Her voice is barely a whisper. “Yes,” she admits.

  “Why would you do such a thing?”

  She starts to cry, her shoulders shaking. “I’m so sorry, Mom. I didn’t want to!”

  “Then why did you? Just tell me the truth.”

  “Daddy said he’d buy me a car if I broke up you and Lukas. He said to make sure I made it look like he slept with me.”

  That bastard. I’m so furious that my hands are shaking. I want to smash his face in.

  “Mom, I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t know who I’m more disappointed in,” I say quietly. “You or him. What he asked you to do is disgusting, and I can’t believe you would go along with it. For a car.”

  “Mom . . .”

  I put my hand up, angry tears falling down my face. “What you did was disgusting. Lukas is a good man. He would do anything for you and Tommy.”

  “I know. I love you guys together, Mom. Me and Tommy both do. He’s a better dad to us than Dad ever was.”

  “Then how could you do that to him?” I practically scream. “And to me?”

  “I don’t know!” she wails. “Daddy kept saying it was the best thing to do. He said Lukas isn’t who he pretends to be.”

  “Do you really believe that?”

  “No. I just really wanted the car, Mom. Mine was a piece of junk! All my friends have new cars.” The mindset of a teenager—they can justify anything, just because they want it.

  “So you hurt two people that love you over a car? For God’s sake, Macy, Lukas probably would have lent you the money for one if he knew you needed a new car. He’s just that nice.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t know it would be this bad.”

  “Is it true that you touched him?” I silently pray this part isn’t true. “He said you put your hands on him.”

  She squirms uneasily. “Yes, I grabbed him and I kissed him.”

  Nausea bubbles up in my stomach. “I am so disgusted with you right now, Macy. I can’t even put it into words.”

  “This isn’t all my fault, Mom! He wanted me. I could feel it.”

  I jump up, my limit reached. “That’s it. You need to leave. Pack up some things and go to your father’s house.”

  “Mom! You can’t kick me out!”

  “Yes, I can. You can stay at your father’s until college starts. I can’t believe you would hurt me like this. I have no idea who you are.”

  “Okay, it was my fault. I totally provoked him. Are you happy now? He pushed me away and kept saying he loves you. Okay? I told you everything. Can I just stay here, please? I don’t want to live with Dad and fucking Charlene!”

  “No. Take your new car and go stay with him, and think about the horrible things you have done out of greed. I didn’t raise you to behave this way, and I can’t be around you right now. You’re right. You’re eighteen. You’re an adult. Go be one at your father’s house until I can forgive you for this.”

  It tears my heart out to watch her cry as she runs to her room and returns a few minutes later with an overstuffed duffel bag, just like her father did not long ago.

  She stops at the door and turns to me, her face red, her makeup smeared. “Can I please just stay here? Mom?”

  I shake my head, holding my ground. “No. I love you, Macy, but what you did is horrible. I’m going to need some time to get over this.” I turn away from her and hear the door open and close, and seconds later her shiny new car is pulling out of the driveway.

  I fall onto the couch and burst into tears, hating Paul for once again ripping away all that I love.

  “I’m going out for lunch,” I tell my assistant, breezing past her desk. “I’ll be back in about an hour.”

  She nods at me, so immersed in her work that she doesn’t look up from her computer screen, and I make a mental note to find out when she’s due for her next review.

  I walk to the park a few blocks away from my office and sit on a bench under a huge willow tree, the crisp late summer air helping to clear my head. I haven’t been sleeping much at all, and I feel like it’s catching up to me, giving me brain fog and making me cranky. When I called Lukas the night I had it out with Macy, I wasn’t expecting him to tell me he needed some time to think before he could let me back into his life. Sleepless nights have plagued me since.

  Stupidly, I thought that, once I apologized for doubting him, he would welcome me back with open arms, especially after he called and texted nonstop for the first few days after I found Macy at his house. He’s not like other people, though. He may be incredibly loving and have a huge heart, but I learned the hard way that he gives that part of himself to very few. And second chances are rare.

  With Lukas, it’s all or nothing, and I didn’t give him my all. I thought I did, but when it came to proving it, I failed miserably. I should not have pushed him away and shut him out. So much for me being the supposed mature one of the relationship.

  “Can I sit?”

  I look up, but he’s already taken the liberty to sit on the bench next to me.

  “Asher?” I glance around to see if anyone else is with him. Like Lukas. But he’s alone. “What are you doing here?”

  He chews th
e toothpick hanging out of his mouth. “Meeting a friend. You?”

  “I’m on my lunch break. My office isn’t too far from here.”

  “It’s a nice day to get out.”

  “Yeah. It is.”

  He nods and studies me. “Did you know Lukas was born with a hole in his heart?”

  My head snaps to face him, shocked by his sudden statement. “What?” My voice quivers, and I swallow the lump that instantly forms in my throat. “No . . . he never told me that.”

  “I’m not surprised. He doesn’t like to talk about it. It’s why his mother gave him up. She was afraid he’d need too much care.”

  I don’t bother to brush the tear that creeps down my cheek. My mind spins, and I’m suddenly stricken with fear that he’s sick, or dying.

  Asher continues in his melodic voice. “I find it ironic that someone with such a huge heart has a hole in his own, and that the people that should love him keep falling through it.”

  “I do love him,” I say defensively. “You don’t understand.”

  He pulls the toothpick out of his mouth. “Oh, trust me. I do.”

  “I want him back. I want to marry him. He’s all I want.”

  Another man comes along and sits on the bench next to Asher. He’s tall and broad, wearing a black leather jacket, black motorcycle boots, and dark sunglasses. His head is shaved but covered in tattoos.

  “Hey, man, how’s things?” Asher asks him.

  His friend laughs. “I’m dying. How do you think I’m doing?”

  “We’re all dying. Some of us just faster than others.”

  I want to get up and leave, but I feel riveted to this bench.

  “How’s your other half?” the friend asks.

  Asher hands him a small bottle, of what, I don’t know. “She’s sleeping,” he replies.

  “I wish I could fucking sleep,” the friend says.

  “Me too,” I mutter.

  Asher turns his attention back to me. “What do you think is worse? Not trusting the person you gave your heart to, or giving your heart to someone and them not trusting you?”

  The friend sighs loudly. “Here we go . . .”

  Asher kicks him in the shin. “Shut the fuck up.”