Could Be the One: (Lucas and Becca) (A Back to Jetty Beach Romance Book 2)

by Claire Kingsley

  Could Be the One

  A Back to Jetty Beach Romance

  Claire Kingsley

  Contents

  Books by Claire Kingsley

  1. Becca

  2. Becca

  3. Lucas

  4. Lucas

  5. Becca

  6. Becca

  7. Lucas

  8. Becca

  9. Lucas

  10. Becca

  11. Lucas

  12. Becca

  13. Lucas

  14. Becca

  15. Lucas

  16. Lucas

  17. Lucas

  18. Becca

  19. Becca

  20. Becca

  21. Lucas

  22. Lucas

  23. Becca

  24. Lucas

  25. Lucas

  26. Becca

  27. Epilogue: Becca

  About the Book

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2017 Claire Kingsley

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, or incidents are products of the author’s imagination and used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is purely coincidental or fictionalized.

  Edited by Elayne Morgan of Serenity Editing Services

  Cover and title plate by Wicked Good Book Covers

  www.clairekingsleybooks.com

  Created with Vellum

  Books by Claire Kingsley

  The Jetty Beach Romance Series

  Must Be Love (Nicole and Ryan)

  Must Be Crazy (Melissa and Jackson)

  Must Be Fate (Cody and Clover)

  Must Be Home (Hunter and Emma)

  The Back to Jetty Beach Romance Series

  Could Be Forever (Finn and Juliet)

  Could Be the One (Lucas and Becca)

  Bad Boy Romance ~ The Always Series

  Always Have (Braxton and Kylie)

  Always Will (Selene and Ronan)

  Always Ever After: A Short Story

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  1

  Becca

  My hands tremble as the host hands me a menu. I’m trying so hard to act like I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I do. I know. The night has finally arrived. Brandon is going to propose.

  I’m wearing my favorite dress—dark blue with a sweetheart neckline and an A-line skirt. Really, it’s Brandon’s favorite dress, but that’s the point. My blond hair looks perfect, for once, and I dabbed on a little extra makeup, opting for soft pink lipstick and a little shimmer in my eyeshadow. I almost put a clip in my hair that has a white silk flower, but I changed my mind at the last minute. Maybe wearing a white flower—so much like a wedding flower—to my engagement dinner would make it too obvious that I know.

  Brandon looks so nervous. I’m a bit overdressed compared to him, although he’s still handsome in a dark green sweater with his shirt collar showing. In my fantasies, he’s always wearing a suit when he gets down on one knee. But that’s okay. I don’t need every detail to be perfect.

  I look up at Brandon and smile. He puts down his menu and wipes his palms on his thighs. He keeps doing that. I’m nervous too, but it’s an excited kind of nervous, all these little pings of electricity running through every nerve. We’ve been dating for four years, and living together for almost eight months. I’ve been expecting a proposal. There have been a few times I got that fluttery feeling in my tummy, like it might be coming. Last Christmas, when we were with his family. Or when we took that trip to Victoria. But he still hasn’t popped the question. I’ve told myself he wants it to be a surprise, so a family dinner or a weekend getaway are too obvious. He must want to keep me in suspense so I don’t see it coming.

  Tonight, I’ll act totally surprised, even though I’m onto him.

  I almost told my girlfriends Madison and Juliet, but since I didn’t, there’s no evidence I suspect anything. They’re always on my case about Brandon. They don’t understand why we’re not engaged yet, like there’s some sort of dating time limit before you have to either take the next step or break up. There really isn’t. Juliet’s engagement was so out of the blue, none of us saw it coming—least of all her. But her relationship with Finn was that way from the beginning. And since Madison got married, she’s been obsessed with the notion that the rest of us need to get married too.

  But just because my two best friends are now married or engaged, and I’ve been with the same guy for four years without a ring, does not mean there is something inherently wrong with our relationship.

  I’ve always assured Brandon that there’s no pressure. I’ve made it clear I’ll be happy when he does propose, and the answer will of course be yes. He doesn’t have anything to be nervous about there. But he’s skittish about marriage. I’ve never pressed him about his past, but I don’t think he was ever serious about a woman before me. In fact, I hate to admit it, but I’m pretty sure there were a lot of women coming in and out of his bedroom before I came along.

  But we’ve been happy together, and I’ve been fine with not rocking the boat. I can be patient, because I know it’ll be worth it in the end.

  “So, Becca.” Brandon presses his lips together and runs a hand through his blond hair. “There’s something I’ve been needing to talk to you about.”

  I take a careful breath so I don’t seem too excited, and set my menu in front of me. “Yes?”

  “Well,” he says, and folds his hands together. “We’ve been together for quite a long time now.”

  I nod. “We have.”

  “And I think there comes a time in a relationship when we have to make decisions about the future.”

  My heart beats faster. “Yes, of course.”

  He pauses, and I wonder where he’s keeping the ring. He’s not wearing a jacket, so he can’t produce it from an inside pocket. Maybe he gave it to the waiter, and they’ll bring it out on a little plate. Or in a glass of champagne. I’m surprised he’s doing it before we’ve ordered, but maybe he’s so excited, he can’t wait any longer.

  “Becca…”

  I lean forward, the word yes already on my lips.

  “I think we should break up.”

  For a second, the words don’t register.

  Did he just say break up? My lips part and I stare at him, dumbfounded. His brow furrows, and a look of guilt passes over his features.

  “Becca?”

  “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  Brandon winces, and the waiter chooses this moment to come over to take our order. I don’t look up. My eyes are locked on Brandon. What the frick is even happening?

  Brandon tells the waiter we need another minute and looks back at me. “I’m sorry, I guess this is kind of sudden.”

  “Sudden?” My chest constricts and I feel like I can’t get enough air. “Sudden?”

  He puts up a hand. “Okay, don’t freak out.”

  I look at him in disbelief. Freak out? Why would he think that? I never freak out about anything. “What? No, I just… I don’t understand. You’re breaking up with me? Why?”

  He lets out a breath. “It’s not you. You’re a great girl. I’m just in a place in my life where I need something else.” />
  My stomach starts to churn and a cold sweat breaks out on my forehead. “Something else? Or someone else?” By the way Brandon winces again, I already know the answer. “There’s someone else?” I put a hand to my mouth.

  “Yes, but no,” Brandon says. “Nothing happened with her, I swear. I’ve never cheated on you.”

  “But you want to cheat on me,” I say, my lower lip trembling.

  He opens his mouth like he’s going to argue, but he looks away without saying anything.

  “I thought you were going to propose tonight,” I say, my voice weak. Immediately, I wish I hadn’t said it. I feel so stupid.

  His brow furrows again. “You thought what? Oh god, Becca.”

  “You never wanted to marry me,” I say. “I thought you needed time, but you knew, didn’t you? You knew you didn’t want me forever. You knew I wasn’t the one.”

  “I’m really sorry,” he says.

  My stomach turns again and there’s a burning sensation in the back of my throat. I don’t understand. How could this have gone so wrong? Why didn’t I see this coming?

  Brandon starts talking again, but I’m not sure what he’s saying. Something about moving to the East Coast to be with her, and now you can find the right guy. Does he think he’s doing me a favor? My vision goes blurry, the tablecloth turning into a hazy mass of white.

  “Becca?” He leans forward. “Are you okay? You don’t look so good.”

  I shake my head slowly, my eyes on the table. I spent most of the last four years believing I was with the one. The guy I was going to marry.

  He never felt the same way.

  I suck in a breath and try to clamp a hand over my mouth, but it’s too late. The contents of my stomach come racing up my throat, and before I can even think about running to the bathroom, I vomit all over the table.

  And all over Brandon.

  I snatch the cloth napkin and cover my mouth, my eyes wide with horror. Brandon’s face is contorted with revulsion as he looks down at his soiled sweater. The people at the tables around us go quiet and stare.

  I think I might die.

  I get up so fast my chair falls backward, and I run out the front door.

  2

  Becca

  Moving is hard.

  My feet hurt, my back aches, and all I really want to do is curl up on the couch in my jammies and watch a movie. Preferably something happy.

  But my new place is a disaster, and I sent everyone home. My dad insisted on hiring movers, and no matter how many times I told him I want to do this on my own, he wouldn’t listen. He booked them anyway, and in the end, I’m glad he did. They moved all my stuff out of my parents’ garage, hauled it the three hours to my new apartment, and unloaded it here. My friend Juliet and her fiancé Finn were here for a while to help me unpack, but I told them I have a handle on it, and they could go.

  After Brandon broke up with me, I had to move out, so of course I went running home to my parents’ house. I hated to do it, but Madison just got married, so I didn’t want to impose on the newlyweds. And Juliet moved out to Jetty Beach to live with Finn, so that wasn’t exactly convenient. But moving back in with my mom and dad was such a blow. It’s bad enough that they were so eager to have me home. I guess that’s better than parents who are grumpy and judgmental about it. But they act like I’m still a little girl.

  They’ve never changed my room, so I found myself sleeping in a twin bed with a frilly pink canopy over the top. My princess bed. I got it when I was six, and oh, how I loved that bed. The framed print of Princess Aurora from Disney’s Sleeping Beauty is still on the wall, and a hundred other reminders of my childhood are placed neatly around the room. It isn’t that my childhood was bad. It was fine. My parents are nice, we lived in the same house my whole life, and I was generally happy.

  But my mom and dad don’t seem very interested in the idea of me actually growing up. At least, they don’t like the idea of me growing up and being on my own. They insisted I live on campus my first two years of college, and paid for my room and board, because they thought I’d be safer that way. Then, when Madison, Juliet and I decided to get an apartment together, they helped us find one, so we didn’t end up in a bad neighborhood. They even kicked in more for my rent, so we could afford something nicer. After college, I lived with friends for a while, and later Madison and I shared an apartment. My parents weren’t totally keen on Madison—she is admittedly a little crazy—but the main thing they always insisted on was that I not live alone. After Madison got engaged, I hinted to Brandon that I needed a new place to live, and he eventually suggested I move in with him. Looking back, he was pretty hesitant about it. I should have known something was wrong, but I was too focused on playing house to see the signs. I thought if we lived together, it might speed us along to the getting-married part.

  So there I was, sleeping in my childhood room, and I realized something: I’ve never been on my own. Not really. I’ve always relied on my parents, or my friends, or my boyfriend to take care of me. I didn’t mean to be that way. I never planned to be the girl who’s never paid her own bills, or been responsible for the grocery shopping, or done anything close to acting like an adult. People always do things for me. My parents took care of everything until I graduated college. They said they wanted me to focus on school and didn’t want me to have to worry about anything else. When I lived with Juliet and Madison, Juliet always handled the bills and things for the house. She’s super organized and good at it, and also a massive control freak, so Madison and I let her. We gave her our share, and she took care of the details.

  When Brandon and I moved in together, it was really me moving in with him. And he took care of everything too. At the time, I didn’t think much about it. I guess I was used to it. My parents did it, my friends did it, and I slid into an easy routine of letting Brandon handle everything.

  So, I decided I need to grow up. Maybe even live on my own. That thought was scary, but the more I considered it, the more I realized it’s exactly what I need.

  My dad tried to talk me out of it, but when he saw I wouldn’t budge, he sprang into action. He found me a cute one-bedroom about two miles from their house. I couldn’t really afford it, but he and my mom offered to make up the difference.

  I walked around that apartment, and despite the designer finishes (quartz countertops and stainless steel appliances), it made me want to throw up again. It didn’t feel like a place I could call home. It felt like a cage.

  So I did something I’ve never really done before. I told my parents no.

  They didn’t know how to handle my sudden bout of defiance, but for goodness sake, I’m a grown woman in my twenties. I don’t need to do everything they say.

  And that’s when I got a little crazy.

  I decided that not only do I need to live on my own, I need to get away from the place where I grew up. I’ve always lived in Seattle, and I sort of figured I always would. But suddenly the city felt stifling. Like there’s nowhere to go where I can have any privacy. Nowhere that will let me be myself.

  Almost on a whim, I declared that I was moving to Jetty Beach, a quaint little tourist town on the coast. It isn’t completely random. My friend Juliet lives here now, and that’s mostly why I decided on it. Starting over in a new place is all well and good, but starting over with a friend nearby is better. I won’t depend on Juliet for anything. I found my own apartment, signed my own lease, and made my own arrangements. Of course, there’s the thing about my dad hiring movers, but I guess I’ll consider that a gift from him and not let it ding my pride that I’m not one hundred percent on my own with this move.

  So here I am, sitting in a mostly-still-packed townhouse apartment, on my first night living totally by myself.

  I half-heartedly try to put a few more things away, but at this point, I’m just done. I grab a slice of cold pizza out of the fridge—Finn brought over pizza for us at lunchtime when we arrived—and sit on the couch. My TV isn’t hooked up yet, so
I scroll through Facebook on my phone while I eat.

  I’m feeling pretty proud of myself when I hear something through the shared wall. My new place is in a triplex, and I’m on one end. It’s been quiet next door all day, but now I hear what sounds like a door closing. Not long after that, there’s music, muted by the wall, but not much.

  I’ve actually met my neighbor once, but it was a while ago, when Juliet first met Finn. We were down here for her birthday and spent a Saturday night hanging out at the Irish pub Finn owns. I think Finn wanted to impress Juliet, because he invited a bunch of people to come hang out. It was fun, and I remember chatting a little with Finn’s friend Lucas—who is now my neighbor. When I told Juliet I wanted to move to Jetty Beach, she gave me the lead on this place. She knew from Lucas that the last tenant had moved out.

  But I have yet to see him, and I don’t remember much about him anyway. I was pretty tipsy—Finn is such a good bartender—and that night is a bit of a blur.

  I indulge in a second piece of pizza and flick through some Instagram posts. I hear something else through the wall, and for a second, I think maybe someone is knocking on Lucas’s door.

  Then I realize that’s not the kind of banging I’m hearing.

  Oh god.

  Is he?

  I listen harder, moving toward the wall, almost involuntarily. I can still hear music playing—these walls are paper thin—but I hear something else too.

  The loud moan clinches it.

  Yep, I can hear him having sex.

  My face heats up and I know I’m blushing from the roots of my blond hair to my belly button. I’m such a blusher. I get red over just about anything, but listening to someone else have sex? This is mortifying.

  It’s not like I’ve never been on the other side of the wall from someone having sex before. I lived with Madison for years, and before she met her husband Eric, she was pretty free with her sexuality. I heard her with her boyfriends plenty of times. I tried not to make a thing out of it. Once, when she realized I must hear her, she apologized. But she laughed a lot while she said sorry, so I don’t think it bothered her that I heard. She was laughing at me, knowing it made me squirm.