A Love Like Yours

by Robin Huber

  “I’ll take one too,” Paul adds, and the pressure slowly starts to release.

  Drew hands Sam a beer, but I intercept it and twist the cap off it with a dish towel, seeing as how he has only one good hand. “Sorry,” I apologize for Drew’s tactlessness, wondering if it was intentional.

  “Thanks.” He winks at me, but thankfully Drew doesn’t see because he’s busy with the wine bottle opener.

  He twists the cork out of the Château Margaux and casually pours eight hundred dollars per glass for Sebastian and Paul.

  “It’s a shame what happened in Las Vegas,” Paul says, eyeing Sam’s cast.

  “Yeah, that was stupid mistake on my part.”

  “You’re a southpaw, right, Sam?” Drew asks, and I push my lips together to hide my amusement. Drew doesn’t know the first thing about boxing. Whenever he does watch a match with me, he loses interest by the second round. He must have been studying up on his boxing terminology last night.

  “What’s a southpaw?” Janice asks.

  “A left-handed boxer,” Sebastian answers. “Sam’s left hand is his dominant hand. His stance is different than an orthodox boxer because he puts his right leg in front.” He glances at Sam and shrugs. “Sorry, it’s the fan in me.”

  Sam grins and shakes his head. “No, that’s right.”

  “So then how did you break your right hand?” Drew asks, holding his head back. I think he’s genuinely curious. Still, I feel myself shrinking every time he opens his mouth. Maybe by the end of dinner, I’ll have disappeared into oblivion.

  “The most dangerous southpaws put their weak arm in front from time to time,” Sebastian answers again. “It’s the only way to strengthen it,” he says in defense of Sam, and it makes me grin.

  Sam smiles at Sebastian. “You know a lot about boxing.”

  “Yeah, I guess so. My dad has always been a big fan, so I grew up watching the greats.”

  “Well, I aspire to be like them.” He sips his beer. “It takes focus.” He pulls his eyebrows together and holds his cast up. “I wasn’t focused the night this happened,” he says, tugging on an invisible string that’s tied tightly around my heart.

  “When does it come off?” Paul asks.

  “Tomorrow.” He leans in to Sebastian and Paul. “I can’t fuckin’ wait,” he says quietly out of the side of his mouth, and they both laugh.

  “I’ve never been able to watch men hitting each other in the face. It’s just so…barbaric,” Janice says, pressing her splayed fingers to her chest dramatically. She touches Sam’s tattooed arm. “Doesn’t it hurt?”

  “Yes.” He laughs and Paul and Sebastian join him. They’re quite smitten with Mr. Cole.

  It makes me smile.

  “But lots of things hurt.” He looks at me and my smile wanes.

  “Well, I guess you probably had no choice but to fight when you were younger,” Janice infers, and I feel my blood pulse through my veins before she even says, “growing up in Brighton Park.”

  I reach for the open bottle of wine and pour eight hundred dollars into a glass. “Just because we grew up in Brighton Park doesn’t mean we were heathens,” I say, keeping my voice steady, aiming to get my point across graciously.

  “I’m sorry, dear, that’s not what I meant.”

  “No, it’s okay. I did fight. A lot, actually…so that Lucy didn’t have to.”

  I smile over my first sip of buttery Bordeaux. It fills my head with vanilla and spice and berries and smoke. I press my lips together and savor the taste and smell, unsure which is more lovely.

  “So you and Lucy…you go back a long way?” Drew asks, and I cringe.

  Sam looks at me. “What were we? Eleven? Twelve?”

  I push my lips together, thinking of how his shaggy hair hung over his eyes when I met him. I hated that house, but he made me feel so safe. “I was eleven,” I say, smiling.

  “Oh.” Drew smirks. “When you said ‘boyfriend,’ I thought you meant, like a real boyfriend.”

  I see a hundred different thoughts flash across Sam’s face, but he just smiles and says, “She was my family.”

  Janice exhales a dramatic breath. “Well, thank God she had you. I can’t even think of our darling girl in a place like that.”

  “Yeah, well, she never belonged there,” Sam says, giving me a knowing glance that I’m fairly certain Drew saw.

  I turn my counterfeit eyes to Drew, hoping to convey my innocence, but I don’t think he’s buying it.

  “Thank God she found a way out,” Drew says provokingly, making my skin flush with anxiety.

  Sam stares at him and I feel the tension rising in the room again, like a tank filling with water, threatening to drown me. “Thank God,” he says flatly.

  “Tell us how you got out, Sam.” Drew pushes further.

  “Drew, don’t you need to check on dinner?” I ask. “It smells like it’s ready.”

  “I, for one, am starving,” Sebastian adds. He elbows Paul, whose eyes are glued to the two gunslingers.

  “Me too,” Paul says, eyeing Sebastian curiously.

  “Should we go sit then?” I ask, clasping my hands together.

  “Yes, let’s,” Janice says, tipping her glass up. She seems to be the only one in the room who can’t feel the palpable tension. Must be the prosecco.

  “I was arrested for a crime I didn’t commit,” Sam says, answering Drew’s question. “And then I spent three years in a state prison. That’s how I got out. But I’d say things worked out okay for me after that.”

  Drew smiles condescendingly. “Dinner’s ready.”

  “Great,” Janice says, flitting across the kitchen to refill her glass.

  I narrow my eyes at Drew, hoping to convey the thoughts I can’t say out loud. I’ve never seen him behave like this before, but apparently jealous and antagonistic are on his very short list of faults. “Come on, everyone, let’s go sit down,” I say, waving my hands toward the dining room. “I’ll bring the wine. I think you’ve got everything else covered,” I say quietly to Drew.

  Drew puts his hands on the counter and gives me an apologetic look, but I ignore him and follow our party to the dining room.

  “Sam, it’s pretty incredible how quickly you dominated the boxing world after your release,” Paul says. “That’s something to be proud of.”

  Sam pulls his eyebrows together and nods. “Thanks.”

  “Lucy, I love the new table,” Janice gushes. “I think I might get something similar after the remodel. Did Drew pick it out?”

  “Yes,” I say flatly.

  “Drew has such a keen eye for design.” She smiles. “It’s in his blood. I wish Maurice had been more like that. I spent most of my marriage in the driver’s seat. It would have been nice to ride shotgun every now and then.” She puts her hand on mine. “Enjoy it, dear.”

  The look of disapproval on Sebastian’s face makes me uncomfortable, but the look of disappointment on Sam’s makes me want to run and hide.

  “So tell me, Sam, is there anyone special in your life?” Janice asks, placing her napkin in her lap.

  “Yes,” he says matter-of-factly, and I stop breathing. I think Sebastian has too.

  “She must be a lucky girl.”

  He shakes his head and says, “I’m the lucky one.” His eyes flash to mine and my heart starts pounding.

  Drew enters the room, carrying several steaming dishes. I’ve always been amazed at how he balances them on his hands and forearms. He places them in the center of the table. “Okay, we’ve got rosemary-braised lamb shanks, brown-butter-roasted potatoes, and asparagus ribbon salad. It’s family style tonight, so please, help yourselves.”

  “Thank you, darling. I can’t wait to dig in,” Janice says, picking up her fork.

  I give him a small smile, hoping that he’s reined in his male bravado. “Everything looks great, Drew. Thank you.”

  “It looks amazing,” Paul says. I watch him cut a piece of lamb and put it in his mouth. He closes his eyes as
he chews.

  I can’t help but smile. I’ve always loved seeing how people react to Drew’s food for the first time. He’s an incredible chef.

  Sam takes a bite and nods. That’s probably the closest thing to a compliment Drew is going to get from him.

  It’s quiet for a minute besides the clinking of silverware as everyone eats. I relish in the relaxed atmosphere, no matter how short-lived it may be. For the moment, everyone seems to be enjoying their meal.

  I sip my wine, savoring the way the warm, buttery notes complement the lamb. I swirl my glass, watching the burgundy liquid coat the crystal, thinking how this will probably be the last time Drew cooks for me. I glance up at him and he smiles, all of his ego falling by the wayside. I look at my glass again and take another sip. What is he going to think when he looks back at tonight after I tell him about me and Sam? I take another sip and try to swallow down the giant lump in my throat.

  Sebastian subtly raises his eyebrows at me. He must notice me struggling with my thoughts about the not-too-distant future. “Lucy, I’m sure everyone would love to hear about the exhibit,” he says, pulling me back into the here and now, which isn’t much better.

  “Yes, Lucy, tell us. Are you ready for next week?” Janice asks. “You must be getting so excited.”

  I take a deep breath and answer, “Yes, we’re both very excited,” I say, looking at Sebastian. “I think we’re almost ready.”

  Sebastian puts his napkin down and reports, “The RSVPs have been tallied, the guest list has been finalized, all the featured artwork is set up—”

  “Are you coming, Sam?” Janice interrupts Sebastian excitedly.

  “That’s right,” Drew says, sitting back in his chair. “Lucy said you were interested in buying some artwork.” He sounds genuinely interested. Maybe he’s trying to redeem himself.

  Sam raises an eyebrow at me.

  Yes, I lied!

  He takes a sip of his beer and puts it down on the table. “There’s a piece I’ve got my eye on.”

  Drew puts his elbows on the table and gives Sam a hard look, but before he can say anything, Sebastian says, “The only thing we have left to do is confirm the menu with you, Drew.”

  Drew’s ears perk up to that. “Well, there’s no time like the present.”

  “Actually, I’ve had some last-minute thoughts about the menu,” I say, squinting, because I know how much Drew loves when I change my mind at the last minute.

  He looks at me warily. “What kind of thoughts?”

  “Well, you know how I wanted to have fun with the food since it’s an art show?”

  “Hence the mac and cheese you requested,” he says flatly, because I finally wore him down and got him to agree to a less refined menu.

  “Mac and cheese?” Janice reproaches, unable to hide the look of disapproval on her face.

  “With lobster and gruyère,” Drew clarifies. “Served in martini glasses, of course,” he says, placating her.

  Sebastian looks at me over the rim of his wineglass. “What were you saying, Lucy?”

  “Oh, just that I thought we could add some color to the menu by serving little stacks of macarons for dessert…in a rainbow of pastels,” I say, smiling at him, “from fuchsia to violet. And those paint palette cookies we saw in the window display at Canicci’s. I know they could fill an order within a week’s time.”

  Sebastian grins and bobs his head. “I love it.”

  “And there’s this drink I saw that looks like a rainbow,” I say to Drew excitedly. “It reminded me of the watercolors I used to paint with when I was little. That should be an easy addition, right?” I smile when I see Sam smiling at me.

  Drew’s mouth is covered by his folded hands, but when he drops them I see the concerned look on his face. “Luc, we should probably serve champagne.”

  “Of course. But I want the rainbow drink too.”

  “It’s an art show, Lucy. Your first art show. I thought you wanted people to take you seriously. Icing cookies…rainbow drinks?” He pulls his eyebrows together. “That just feels a little bit like a kindergarten orientation, don’t you think?”

  I feel my cheeks flame.

  “If she wants the drink, let her have the drink,” Sam says, putting his napkin on the table.

  I feel the blood drain from my face. “Sam, it’s fine,” I say, masking my embarrassment.

  Drew stares at him and shakes his head. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

  “What does that mean?” I ask, in defense of Sam.

  “Nothing.” Drew puts his napkin on the table and sits back in his chair.

  “I think it means that it’s time for me to go,” Sam says, backing his chair away from the table.

  Janice holds her hand up. “No, of course it doesn’t.” She looks at Drew. “Tell us what you meant, darling.” She prompts him to explain away his comment.

  He lets out an exasperated breath and looks at me. “It means that just because he brings a fancy bottle of wine to dinner and drives a hundred-thousand-dollar car doesn’t make him sophisticated. For crying out loud, he fights for a living, like a damn dog.”

  “Andrew!” Janice admonishes.

  I watch Sam get up from his chair, the look on his face calm yet terrifying. His eyes meet mine and I shake my head. I know what he’s capable of when he’s angry.

  “I think I should go.” His voice is deep and controlled.

  I glance at Paul’s and Sebastian’s shocked faces and see the embarrassment on Janice’s. I shake my head at Drew with shock. “What is wrong with you?” I grit through my teeth.

  “Lucy, honey, you didn’t grow up with this…lifestyle. And that’s okay,” he says, looking at me like I’m some kind of injured puppy. “But the people who will be at your show did. They’ll expect a more sophisticated menu. Trust me on this.”

  Sam rounds the table and my muscles tense as he approaches Drew. “She’s not a child.”

  Drew stands up and my blood races through my veins. “I’m well aware of that.”

  “Sam, just go,” I say, stepping in front of him.

  His shoulders rise and fall to the rhythm of my racing heartbeat.

  “Sam, please.”

  He looks down at me and I’m gutted by the look in his eyes.

  I’m sorry, I mouth.

  He walks away, dragging my heart on the floor behind him.

  Drew reaches for me. “Lucy.”

  “No.” I push his hand away and go after Sam. I pull the front door open and run down the steps after him. “Sam,” I call, but he ignores me. “Sam, stop,” I say, catching up to him just before he gets in his car.

  He closes the door and slams his fist down on the shiny black roof, making all the muscles in his forearm ripple, but he doesn’t look at me. He drops his head and takes several deep breaths.

  “Sam, please, just talk to me.” I tug on his sleeve.

  “What are you doing with that guy, Lucy?”

  I pull my eyebrows together, unsure whether the question is rhetorical. “He’s not normally like that.”

  “Bullshit.”

  I shake my head and repeat, “He’s not.”

  “Because you always do whatever he tells you to? Because you never challenge him? Because he doesn’t let you forget where you came from?”

  “What? No. He’s good guy, Sam. And he’s never been anything but wonderful to me.”

  “Is that what he’s programmed you to think? That he’s this great guy you don’t deserve, who will give you whatever you want? Jesus, Lucy.” He shakes his head and gives me a serious look. “Has he put his hands on you before?”

  “What? No!” I exclaim, ignoring the pit in my stomach. Where is this coming from?

  He watches me carefully, looking for any cracks in my resolve.

  “He isn’t that kind of guy, Sam. You don’t know him,” I say, defending Drew now. “He was just, I don’t know, threatened by you tonight. It didn’t help that you were prodding him every chance you
got.”

  He folds his hands on the roof of his car and drops his head between his arms.

  “I’m sorry for what he said to you. It isn’t true.”

  He looks at me again, the anger gone from his eyes now. “Of course it’s true.”

  I blink at him, unwilling to participate in his self-deprecation.

  “Lucy, I’m not sophisticated,” he says, patting his chest. “I was raised in the system without parents, without privileges. I saw drug dealers every day. I stepped over needles on my way to school. And I spent three years wearing a jumpsuit in a state prison.”

  “Sam—”

  “And I fight. Like a fucking dog, because nobody ever gave us anything. I fight so that we can have a life like this.” He throws his hand up at the house. “I fight so that one day, our kids won’t have to.”

  “I know,” I breathe.

  “He’s right. I have more money than I know what to do with. But I’ll never be sophisticated, because that’s not me. I’ll never be like him.”

  “I don’t want you to be.”

  His face screws up. “I don’t know.”

  “What don’t you know? I was raised in the system too. I didn’t have privileges either. I saw the same drug dealers and stepped over the same needles. We’re the same, Sam.”

  “Then why do you care so much about these people?”

  “Because these people care about me! That’s how it works,” I say, frustrated.

  “You sure about that? Because they didn’t seem to care about anything you had to say in there.”

  “That isn’t true. You just don’t understand them.”

  “Oh, but you do?”

  “Yes,” I say, exasperated, “I do!”

  He shakes his head and huffs. “I forgot, you speak upper-class now.”

  I feel a sharp pinch in my heart. “Screw you,” I say, blinking back tears.

  He stares at me with a face of stone, but he doesn’t say anything.

  “They are the only ones who cared about me when I was struggling to get started. They did everything they could to help me. They’re the reason I’m even having this exhibit.”

  “You’ve mentioned that.”

  I shake my head, because I’m so frustrated with him I could scream. “You don’t have to accept it, Sam, but Drew loves me. And I’m going to break his heart when I tell him about us,” I practically yell.