A Love Like Yours

by Robin Huber

  Drew saw one of my paintings when La Pêche sponsored a community arts contest, and it wasn’t long before he was taking an interest in more than just my artistic ability. But I was cautious, keeping him at arm’s length. I was twenty-two with very little life experience, and he was twenty-eight with the life experience of someone twice his age, having already opened three successful restaurants, one of which I still worked at. Although I didn’t have a lot of dating experience, I was pretty sure you weren’t supposed to date your boss. But that didn’t dissuade Drew from pursuing me.

  Lucy, Two Years Ago

  “One date. That’s all I want,” Drew bargains as I wait patiently for him to hand me an invitation to his mother’s gala. He’s been trying to get me to go on a date with him for the last two years. He’s nothing if not persistent. But he’s still my boss. And more importantly, he’s my friend. As persuasive as he is, I just don’t see him as anything more than that.

  “Drew, Janice invited me personally. I don’t need the invitation to attend.”

  “Technically, you do. The doorman won’t let you in without it.”

  I close my eyes and shake off the foreign thought of attending a party that requires a doorman. “I’m a guest of honor,” I say, ignoring the nerves that have been racking me since Janice asked to auction off one of my paintings at her annual charity ball. “And I have your mother’s number. I’ll just call her directly.”

  He taps the sturdy card against his palm and narrows his eyes. “You have my mother’s number?”

  I raise an eyebrow and hold out my hand. “Yes. Now, hand over my invitation.”

  “All right, all right,” he says, giving it to me. He smiles wide and shakes his head.

  “What?”

  “I just haven’t figured out who likes you more. Me or Momma.”

  I look at the vintage calligraphy on the beautiful invitation in my hand and say, “I’m pretty sure it’s my art that you both like.”

  “Is that really what you think?”

  “I don’t know.” I look up at him and shrug. “I mean, I’m not really like the people who will be at this party. I’m not, you know, fancy.”

  “Fancy,” he repeats, pulling his dark eyebrows together.

  “Sophisticated,” I clarify.

  He brings his hand up to his face and rubs his jaw. “You’re right. You aren’t like the people who will be at this party. Because you, Lucy Bennett, aren’t like anyone. You are”—he puts his hand on my shoulder and slowly trails it down my arm—“so bright and kind and funny. All things that have nothing to do with your art.” He moves his hand over my wrist and wraps his fingers around mine. “You are the strongest—and most stubborn—woman I have ever met. And you are far more beautiful than any of the high-society women who will be at this party. You don’t need a trust fund to be sophisticated, okay?”

  I press my lips together and bob my head. “You think I’m stubborn?”

  He smiles. “That’s what you took away from everything I just said?”

  I laugh softly and shake my head. “No.”

  He reaches for my other hand and holds it in his. “Let me take you to the party tonight, Lucy. I’d be honored,” he says sincerely, and it eases the nerves buzzing around inside me. “It doesn’t have to be a date, it can just be—”

  “Okay,” I answer.

  His eyes widen slightly. “Okay?”

  “Yeah,” I smile softly, “I’d like that.”

  He nods casually and tries unsuccessfully to hide a smile. “Okay.”

  That night I listened to Drew tell stories of how he swam with great white sharks in South Africa and climbed Mont Blanc in France. I was as captivated as the other guests by how worldly and cultured he was. Though it only reiterated how different we were. But Drew had a way of making me feel like I belonged in that room. He held my hand and introduced me with pride, and for the first time in two years, I saw him in a different light. I saw me in a different light. And as much as I wanted to believe that I could never love anyone besides Sam, I found myself falling for Drew, because he was all the things that Sam wasn’t.

  But that was before Sam won the US Amateur Boxing Championship and earned a spot on the US Olympic boxing team. I never even thought I’d see Sam again, let alone see him on my TV. But there he was, screaming back into my mind and staking claim on my heart, just days after Drew proposed. I couldn’t believe it. Everything I’d wondered about, everything left unanswered, everything I’d given up on was right there in front of me. Sam was okay; he was more than okay. And suddenly, without warning, everything that felt right about me and Drew seemed wrong.

  Sam won the gold medal, holds four championship belts, and is now the undisputed light-heavyweight champion of the world. He has twenty-two wins, ten of which were knockouts, and only two losses. He’s well on his way to becoming the greatest boxer the world has ever seen.

  “Just like he said he would,” I whisper to myself as I click off the television. And then I head upstairs to Drew, the man I should be thinking about.

  Chapter 3

  Sam

  “Come on, champ. Come on,” Joe growls in my ear while I spar with Tristan. “Block the jab, baby, block the jab.”

  I hold my gloves up to protect my face while Tristan throws punches at me. It takes everything in me not to hit him back, but the scar down the middle of his chest reminds me why I can’t. He’s my trainer and one of the toughest guys I know, but he has a weak heart. Joe just has me practicing defense with him.

  Joe has been my coach since I was fourteen. He was Tristan’s coach too, until Tris didn’t get up off the mat one day—he was seventeen when he had his first open-heart surgery. Joe is like a father to us. He took care of Tristan when he was sick, and he never gave up on me when I was in prison. When I got out, he helped me rebuild my life, gave me a place to live, started coaching me again. He taught me how to fight professionally. He taught me how to win. Every belt I have is because of him.

  “Ahhhhhh!” I scream, shoving Tris back against the ropes.

  “What the fuck, man?”

  “That’s enough! Get out of my face!” I shout.

  “Sam, take it easy,” Joe says. “Take a break.”

  Tristan steps toward me and holds his gloves up. “You want to go for real? Come on, champ! I’m not scared of you.”

  “I said take a break,” Joe shouts.

  I duck between the ropes and climb out of the ring.

  Tristan laughs and starts throwing practice jabs in the air.

  “You all right?” Joe asks.

  “Yeah.”

  “You seem wound up today. More than usual,” Joe says.

  “Wouldn’t have anything to do with Lucy getting married, would it?” Tristan chimes in as he moves around the ring.

  “Lucy’s getting married?” Joe looks up at me. “To who?”

  “Atlanta restaurant owner Andrew Christiansen, according to the Atlanta Journal,” Tristan answers. “She’s moving up in the world.”

  Joe puts his hand on my shoulder. “Sam, I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not Lucy that’s bothering me,” I lie. “It’s just…Sanchez. I can’t stand that motherfucker.”

  “Yeah, well, Saturday’s your chance to show him how much,” Joe says. “Sit down, cool off a minute. You want your headphones?”

  I nod and Joe disappears to the locker room.

  “Sanchez my ass,” Tristan says, but I ignore him.

  Joe returns with my headphones and puts them over my ears for me. He turns the volume up, and the screaming rap music drowns out the sounds of the gym, and Tristan.

  I drop my head to my gloves as my thoughts bounce between Sanchez and Lucy, but they ultimately stay with Lucy. Like they always do.

  Sam, Eighteen Years Old

  I jog across the street, weaving between the passing cars, ignoring the driver shouting out of his window at me. When I reach the uneven sidewalk, I push my hood off my head. It’s March, but the sun is
making me hot inside my sweatshirt, even though it’s still pretty cool out.

  “Hey, man, you need something today?” the dealer on the corner asks when I reach the crosswalk.

  “Nah, man, I’m good. I don’t do that stuff.”

  “You a boxer or somethin’?” he asks, eyeing the gloves hanging from my backpack.

  “Something like that.”

  “Yeah…yeah…I seen you. You that kid down at Joe’s. I seen you fight before.”

  I nod and keep walking.

  “You need a manager or somethin’?” he calls.

  “Nah, man, I’m good,” I call back.

  “Well, if you change your mind, you come find Big T.”

  I ignore him and continue toward school. When I round the corner I see a small group of guys crowded together on the sidewalk. After I hear what they’re saying, I know they’re talking to a girl.

  “Honey, you fine. Just let me get a little piece of that…Nah, she don’t want yo skinny ass. She want a real man. Don’t ya, baby?”

  “Leave me alone.”

  Lucy.

  I drop my backpack and charge the three guys surrounding her, knocking them back like bowling pins. “Get away from her,” I shout, standing in front of her. One of them steps toward me and stands two inches from my face. He’s taller than me, but I push him back and make him fall against his friend.

  He gets in my face again. “What? You gonna fight me, son? Over that?” He looks at Lucy and says, “Nah, she ain’t even worth it.”

  “What’d you say?” The anger burns inside me like wildfire. “What the fuck did you just say?” I shout in his face.

  “Sam, don’t.” Lucy tugs on my sweatshirt, but I can barely hear her through the rage that’s roaring through me. “I’m fine.”

  “I said why don’t you back the fuck up.” He pulls his jacket open and shows me his gun.

  “Cole…Cole!” Joe shouts, running up to me. He pushes me back a few feet. “Come on, save it for the ring.”

  “Sam, let’s go,” Lucy says, grabbing my hand and yanking me back farther.

  “Wait…wait. You’re Sam Cole?”

  “Yeah, he is,” Joe answers, pushing me down the sidewalk.

  “Oh, I’m gonna remember this. Sam Cole. I got you, Sam Cole. I got you,” he shouts down the sidewalk.

  “Ignore him,” Joe orders, aware of the storm brewing inside me. “Keep it in until Friday. Russo won’t stand a chance.”

  “He wouldn’t stand a chance anyway,” I say confidently.

  “Yeah, well, that’s probably true. But you’ve got to start channeling your anger, Sam. Use it to be better. To be great. No more street fights.”

  I take a deep breath and hold Lucy’s hand tighter. Just thinking of what they could have done to her makes my pulse race faster.

  “You left this,” Joe says, handing me my math book. “Thought you might need it.”

  “He does need it,” Lucy says, giving me a sideways glance.

  Lucy is smart. Too smart for me. She’s a junior, but she’s in my senior calculus class. The only reason I’ll be graduating in a few months is because of her. She makes me study. I don’t like to, but she can be very persuasive.

  “Is that what you were doing down here, coming to drag me to school?”

  She looks up at me with her innocent pale blue eyes and shrugs. “I had some extra time this morning. I thought I’d meet you at the gym so we could walk together.”

  “See ya this afternoon, Sam,” Joe says. “Stay out of trouble.”

  “Bye, Joe.” Lucy waves at him.

  “Bye, sweetheart. Make sure he gets to class.”

  “I always do.”

  After a couple of blocks, I look down at Lucy and she smiles up at me. The sun is shining on her porcelain skin, reflecting off her shiny pink lips and blond hair that’s streaked pink to match. Much to her amusement, my fingertips are still stained from the Kool-Aid packets we used to dye it. It’s pulled back into a ponytail, showing off the soft skin below her ear. My eyes follow the curve of her neck down to her bright yellow bra that’s peeking out beneath the collar of her jacket, and they continue down to her creamy legs. I squeeze her hand and tear my eyes away from her. “You shouldn’t be wearing that skirt.”

  “Well, I thought it was going to be warmer today, but now I’m wishing I hadn’t. Why? You don’t like it?”

  I pull her into the doorway of an abandoned building and turn her around so that her back is pressed against the brick exterior. I place my hands on the wall by her shoulders and lean in close. “I like it. But so do the wolves.” I bring one hand to her face. “You’re so beautiful, Lamb. You don’t even know it.” I slide my hand down her neck, tracing her collarbone with my thumb, and push her jacket off her shoulder. “And so pure.” I kiss the spot below her ear. “You have no idea what they’d do to you.”

  She raises her hand and drags her finger down the middle of my chest. “That’s why I have you. You’ve always protected me. And I’ve never felt afraid.”

  “What if I wasn’t there?”

  “You always are.” She smiles and presses her lips to mine.

  “Yeah.” I move my mouth to her ear. “I always will be.” My greatest fear is that one day, I won’t. I close my eyes and kiss her hard, pressing myself against her so that I can be as close to her as possible. I drop my hands to her thighs and run them up her smooth skin until they’re under her skirt. I groan against her mouth and she moans into mine, sending a fire blazing through me that only she can put out.

  I pick her up and she wraps her legs around me. “We can’t,” she says, running her fingers through my hair, kissing me. “We have to go to class.”

  I ignore her.

  “Sam.”

  I kiss her harder and she kisses me back.

  “Not here,” she says, looking at me with a conflicted grin on her face. She lost the battle with herself.

  I smile wide and put her down. “Come on.” I pull her around the side of the building.

  “Where are we going?”

  “There.” I point to a ladder that leads to the roof. “Come on.”

  “You want me to climb up that?” she asks, watching me yank on the bottom of the ladder to test its stability.

  “Yeah, it’s safe. You can go first. I’ll follow, in case you slip.”

  She gives me a slanted look. “Wouldn’t have anything to do with the skirt, would it?”

  I grin. “Of course not.”

  She begins to climb the ladder, and I follow behind her. About halfway up, the wind blows her skirt up, and I groan quietly.

  “Knock it off,” she says.

  “Not possible.”

  She pauses and looks down at me, pursing her lips.

  “Don’t stop, you’re almost there.” I wink and give her a gentle push over the top. I climb over after her.

  “Holy crap, it’s cold up here,” she says, rubbing her arms.

  I drop my backpack and pull her into my arms, and hold her against me until she warms up. When the wind stops blowing, it feels ten degrees warmer in the sun. “Better?”

  “Yeah. It’s actually really beautiful up here. So quiet. Kind of makes you forget all the crap down there.”

  I look out at the low brick buildings that make up Brighton Park. The sky is so clear, I can see all the way to downtown Atlanta where the tall buildings stagger across a small section of the horizon. “We’re going to get out of here one day, Luc.”

  “Promise?”

  “Yeah. I promise.”

  She sighs. “How?”

  “You’re going to get a scholarship after you graduate next year and you’re going to go to college.”

  She props her chin on my chest. “No, I’m not.”

  “Lucy, yes you—”

  “No,” she says firmly, “not without you.”

  I made the grades to graduate, but I won’t be getting any scholarships.

  “Joe thinks I have a real shot at boxing. Maybe
that’s my ticket out. If it is, I’ll work night and day to be the greatest boxer this world’s ever seen.”

  She smiles wide. “Like Muhammad Ali?”

  “Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.”

  “And we’ll live in a big house?”

  “The biggest.”

  “And we’ll eat pancakes every morning?”

  “With bacon.”

  “And I’ll be able to paint whenever I want?”

  “Whenever you want.”

  “And we’ll have a family? A real family?”

  I tuck a windblown piece of her hair behind her ear and nod. “Yeah, we’ll have a family.”

  “I love you, Sam. Even if none of that ever happens, I’ll still love you. You’re my family.”

  I take her face in my hands. “I love you too.” I kiss her softly until we melt into each other, numb to the cool air that’s wrapping around us. I pick her up again and she wraps her legs around me like before, kissing me slower this time.

  She pulls my sweatshirt off and drops it on the concrete rooftop beneath us, and pushes my sweatpants down on my hips. She reaches under my shirt and runs her hands over my chest and stomach, making my muscles tighten where she touches me.

  I sit down on my sweatshirt with her in my lap and lift her shirt above her bra, but I notice goose bumps on her skin, so I lower it back down and hold her close to me, kissing her slowly until I feel the heat between us.

  Her tongue moves over mine, and I feel it everywhere.

  I push her jacket off her shoulders so that it’s still covering her arms and kiss her neck, but she shrugs the rest of the way out of it. “I’m not cold anymore,” she whispers, taking her shirt off.

  I run my hands up her thighs and tug on her panties. I might spontaneously combust if she doesn’t take them off soon.