by Robin Huber
“Then maybe you shouldn’t.”
My heart pounds inside my chest and a hot flash of panic pricks across my skin. “What?”
“You’ve got it all, Lucy. A great guy, a great career, a great house.” He chews the corner of his mouth. “What have I done for you?”
I shake my head and say firmly, “Don’t do that.”
He rubs the back of his neck and closes his eyes. “It’s my fault.” He drops his elbows on the roof of his car. “I was supposed to get you out of Brighton Park. I was supposed to give you a better life. I was supposed to protect you.”
“This isn’t your fault, Sam. Life just had different plans.”
“I’m so proud of you, Lucy. I really am.” The corner of his mouth turns up into a small half smile, but it doesn’t hide the pain in his voice. “I mean, this”—he glances up at the house—“it’s more than we ever could have dreamed of when we were kids. But this life, this guy”—he gives me a disheartened look—“it’s changed you.”
I shake my head and insist, “No it hasn’t, Sam. I’m still the same.”
“How could you be?” I see the defeated look in his eyes, and it fills me with fear.
“I’m the same,” I say through clenched teeth, tears filling my eyes now.
“The fact that you can’t see it tells me you’re not.”
“Sam, what are you saying?”
“I’m sorry I let this happen.”
“Sam.” I step closer to him, but I resist the urge to touch him, knowing several pairs of eyes might be watching me.
His face screws up and he closes his eyes. When he opens them again, they’re filled with fire. “Kiss me,” he says urgently.
“What?” I ask, feeling my emotional wave pool shift inside me.
“Kiss me,” he pleads.
“That’s not fair. You know I can’t.”
“I’m not testing you, Lucy. I just want you to kiss me.”
My knees soften and my hands begin to shake. “Why are you doing this?”
“Please, Lamb. Just kiss me, right here, right now. And then go inside and tell him about us.”
The air leaves my lungs in a painful rush, and the street lamps begin to sway.
“Come home with me,” he begs.
My heart beats painfully against my ribs. “I—I can’t,” I cry. “You know why I can’t.”
He closes his eyes and drops his head. “Yeah. The exhibit. Drew.”
“Sam, please…don’t do this.”
He opens his car door but pauses before getting in, propping his arm on the edge of the door. “Go on.” He nods toward the house. “Go back to him.”
I wrap my arms around my stomach to hold myself together, but a sob bubbles up out of me anyway. “I’m sorry.”
He drops down into his seat and shuts the door, but not before I see the pain on his face.
When the car roars to life I rush to the window and press my hands against the dark glass. “Sam.”
He begins to pull forward but stops when I don’t move.
“Sam, please.” I tap the window desperately.
He lowers it just enough for me to see the heartbreak on his face again. “Lucy, move back,” he says roughly.
“No,” I grit through my teeth.
“Lucy,” Drew calls from the front porch.
When I look over my shoulder at him, Sam peels away and takes off down the road.
I wrap my arms around myself and inhale a shaky breath, but when Drew calls my name again, I wipe my eyes and march back to the house. When I reach him, I pause and say firmly, “He is my friend and you insulted him. And you embarrassed me.” I shake my head with disappointment and step around him to find three very alarmed faces waiting for me inside.
“It’s okay,” I answer the question in Sebastian’s worried eyes.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” I nod. “But I think it’s probably best for everyone to go home.”
Bas pulls me into a tight hug. “Call me,” he whispers.
I hold on to him and let out a quiet sob, but quickly swallow it down. “I will.”
He releases me and leads Paul through the front door, passing Drew without looking up at him.
Janice tucks her purse under her arm. “Lucy, please pass my apologies along to Sam, should he ever speak to you again.” She stands directly in front of Drew and says sharply, “Your behavior tonight was unacceptable.” She presses her lips together tightly and continues through the front door and down the steps.
Drew watches her get in her car, and then closes the door and leans against it. He puts his hands in his pockets and looks at me with heavy eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t,” I say quietly.
“I am.” His face is soft and unguarded.
I wipe my eyes. “Do you think you rescued me like some kind of stray dog?”
“What? No.”
“That’s what you think of us, me and Sam.”
“I don’t think that about you, Lucy. I love you,” he says firmly, stirring my emotions. “I’m sorry for how I acted tonight. I’ve never really felt insecure about us before. But he’s a lot to compete with.”
Just tell him and get it over with. Go to Sam.
I close my eyes and ignore the thought.
“It was childish, I know. And, I realize, pretty stupid. I’m just glad one of his hands was in a cast. But I saw the way he was looking at you.”
My pulse pounds in my ears.
Rip the Band-Aid off now.
“You don’t see the way men look at you like I do. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. I don’t care if he’s the president. I’m not going to let another man come into my house and stake claim on something that isn’t his.”
My face screws up reflexively. “You know I’m not a piece of property, right?”
“Of course. You know that’s not what I meant.” He takes a few steps toward me.
“Don’t.” I hold my hand up, wanting to keep my distance from him.
“I know you’re mad. You should be. I was a jerk.”
“He’s like family to me, Drew.” He’s everything to me.
He furrows his brow and shakes his head. “I realize that you have a history with him, Lucy, but you’re not kids anymore. I don’t know if I want you striking up a friendship with him.”
Sam’s presumptions about Drew echo in his patronizing tone.
“Well, I’m sorry you feel that way, but you can’t tell me who I can and can’t be friends with.” Maybe it’s a wasted effort, but after the way he spoke to me at dinner, I’m not about to let him start telling me what I’m allowed to do.
The corners of his mouth turn down. “No. I can’t tell you who you can be friends with. But I will tell you when I don’t want you hanging around men who want to fuck you.”
My mouth pops open and I feel the disgust make its way onto my face.
“I know that’s crass, honey, but it’s the truth. I could see it all over his face.”
“He’s not some random guy I met at a bar,” I say, feeling like I need a shower.
“Dammit, Lucy, I don’t want you seeing him!” he shouts, unsettling me further. He closes his eyes, inhales a deep breath, and runs his hand through his hair. When he opens his eyes again, his face is relaxed. He reaches for me, but I take several steps back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Screw the exhibit. It’s not worth it.
“Drew, I—I have to…” I look up at his dark blue eyes and steel my heart, but my unwilling tongue won’t cooperate. “I—I…”
“Lucy, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you like that.”
When I see the remorse in his eyes, I search for sympathy, but I find only doubt. Suddenly, everything I thought I was so sure about before becomes a question. “Is this what it would be like?” I ask, shaking my head.
“What?”
“If we got married.”
“If?” His face grows serious. “Lucy, w
hat are you talking about?”
“You just thought that because I’m so grateful for everything you’ve done for me, I’ll do whatever you say? And when I don’t, then what? You’ll just scream at me until I fall in line?”
“What? No.”
I close my eyes and exhale a somber breath as I let go of the life I used to see with him.
I let go of the exhibit.
And then a new dream takes their place.
Sam.
“Drew.” I open my eyes and focus on my steady, sure heartbeats. “I don’t want to get married,” I say certainly.
He puts his hands on his hips, and his chest rises and falls in hurried breaths, but his face is smooth and unreadable. “Lucy, you’re, um, you’re just upset. You’re not thinking clearly.”
I give a small, apologetic smile and shrug. “Yeah, actually, I am. For the first time in weeks.”
“No, you’re not.” He swallows hard and says, “You’re just mad because I was rude to—”
“Sam?” I huff a quiet breath and shake my head. “Drew, Sam isn’t just some old friend.”
He clenches his jaw tight and looks away.
I wait for him to say something, but when he doesn’t, I reach for him. “Hey,” I say softly, trying to get him to look at me.
“Why don’t you, uh, why don’t you go ahead and go to bed?” He keeps his eyes off me and makes his way into the kitchen.
“Drew, we need to talk about this,” I say, following him.
“You’re tired.” He reaches for his bottle of bourbon and slides it across the counter. “And you’ve got a lot on your plate right now. Let’s just get past the exhibit and then we can talk about the wedding. Okay?” He opens the cabinet and pulls down a glass.
“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” I ask, watching him fill the glass with bourbon.
“Don’t worry about the mess in here,” he says, bringing the amber-colored liquor to his lips. He takes a long sip and puts the glass down. “I’ll clean up.”
I watch him with wary eyes, but he quickly busies himself with the pots and pans he left on the stove.
“Drew.”
“Go on,” he says without looking up at me. “Go get some sleep.”
I exhale a frustrated breath, because there’s no talking to him now. “Okay.”
Chapter 16
Sam
“Hey, Jimmy.”
“How’s it going, champ?” He steps out of his security booth.
I drop my head back against the headrest. “I’ve had better nights.”
He pulls the waist of his pants up and leans against my car window. “How’s the hand?”
“Fine. Cast comes off tomorrow.”
“You gonna be ready for Ackerman?” he asks skeptically.
Beau Ackerman is the reigning super middleweight champion of the world, and now he’s vying for my title. Cocky fucker couldn’t stay in his own weight class. Some people think he might actually have a shot since I broke my hand, but I plan to disappoint them.
“I’ll be ready.”
“All right.” He smiles and steps back. “Have a good night, Sam.” He raises the gate and I pull forward into the parking garage.
I circle the ramp up to the third level and park, but I don’t get out. I look at the empty spot beside me, imagining Lucy’s car there. She should be here with me right now. I grip the steering wheel and try to ignore the ache in my stomach. I turn the car off, get out, and head inside my building.
“Sam,” Terrance calls as I pass the security desk in the lobby.
I stop and walk over to him. “Hey, man, how’s it going? Haven’t seen you in a few days. Everything okay?”
“Yeah, my wife had a baby girl a couple of days ago.”
“No kidding?”
He pulls his phone out of his pocket and holds the screen up for me to see. “Isn’t she the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?”
I smile and nod. “Yeah, she’s gorgeous. What’s her name?”
“Jasmine.”
“I like that.”
“I call her momma sunflower, so it just fit, you know?”
“Is that her?” I ask pointing to the picture.
“Yeah, that’s my sunflower. My day one.”
I smile over the ache in my heart. “You’re a lucky man.”
“Don’t I know it.”
“Well, congratulations.” I shake his hand.
“Thanks, Sam. You have a good night.”
“You too, Terrance.”
I continue across the lobby to the elevators. When I step inside, I hear heels tapping on the lobby floor. Just before the doors close, a small hand with red-painted fingernails appears between them, and they open again.
“Hey, Sam,” Molly says, smiling up at me.
I look down at her big brown eyes, wishing there was a way she could help me that didn’t involve sleeping with her.
“Hey,” I say flatly, staring straight ahead.
“What’s the matter?” she asks, eyeing me carefully. “Everything okay?”
I pull my eyebrows together and shake my head. “Not tonight, okay, Molls?”
“Sam, whatever it is, you can talk to me.”
I give her a sideways glance, because she knows as well as I do that talking just leads to sex. “Not tonight.”
She raises her eyebrows and faces the elevator doors. “Okay.”
I glance at my casted hand, feeling like a chained dog. All I want to do is put on a pair of gloves and beat the hell out of a punching bag. The doors slide open to the sixteenth floor, and she begins to walk out, but I grab her hand and pull her back. “Wait.” I’m too wound up to sleep. If I go inside my apartment, I’m just going to climb the walls. “Take a drive with me.”
“A drive?”
“I could use the company.”
The corners of her mouth turn up. “I thought you said not tonight.”
“I just want to go for a drive, Molly. Do you want to come with me or not?”
She studies me carefully. “Yeah, Sam, I’ll come with you.”
“Okay.” I press the button for the lobby and my mind wanders to Lucy. She’s with him. What’s the difference?
The doors open to the first floor and Molly follows me out.
“Sam, Miss Pritchett,” Terrance says curiously as we pass him.
“Hold down the fort,” I say to him as we walk outside.
I lead Molly to the parking garage stairwell, and she proceeds up the stairs before me. I can’t help but look at her ass in the red leather pants she’s wearing. It’s in my face the whole way up to the third floor. “You could take someone’s eye out with those boots,” I say, wondering how she doesn’t topple over in them as we climb the last few steps.
“Your girl had on something similar, if I recall.”
I ignore her and follow her to my car.
“Are you going to tell me who she is, Sam?” she asks, sliding into my passenger seat.
I start the engine and back out of the spot. “Why, you need something new to tweet about?” I glance over at her. “That was pretty fucked up, what you did that day.”
The corners of her mouth turn down. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You insulted her on the elevator and ten minutes later my Twitter feed was blowing up. I think you know exactly what I’m talking about.”
She closes her eyes and shakes her head. “I’m sorry.” She sighs. “I texted someone who I thought was a friend and I guess she tweeted it.”
“It was fucked up,” I repeat.
“You’re right. It was. But it was a mistake. You know I would never do something like that to you.” She drops her chin and then peeks up at me. “Forgive me?”
She’ll never let me hear the end of it if I don’t. I look over at her and nod. “Yeah, okay.”
“So, who is she?”
I grip the steering wheel and stare straight ahead. I don’t want to talk about Lucy right now.
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“All right, I’ll guess. She’s…your sister. No, no.” She shakes her head. “You don’t have any siblings.” She narrows her eyes and smirks. “That you know about.”
I give her a slanted look.
“Okay, she’s…your lawyer.” She bites her bottom lip and shakes her head. “Mixing business with pleasure…not a good idea. Been there.”
“She’s not my lawyer.”
“Why won’t you just tell me who she is?”
“It’s complicated.”
“You should probably know by now, I’m good with complicated.”
I give her an incredulous look and she frowns.
“Just because I’m a trust-fund baby doesn’t mean that I’m shallow and pretentious.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“That I’m shallow and pretentious or that I’m a trust-fund baby?”
“I’ve never thought you were shallow or pretentious. I didn’t know about the trust fund.”
“Yeah, well, my dad owned a pharmaceutical company and he made a lot of money before he died.”
I glance over at her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”
“It was a long time ago.”
“So, is that how you started your company?”
“Well, I got a bachelor’s degree in graphic design and a master’s in marketing first.” She narrows her eyes at me. “Prerequisites for running a graphic design firm.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know. And yes, it helped.” She looks out of her window. “I barely remember him. Except, well”—she shifts in her seat and smiles—“when I was little he called me peanut. He would come home from work, which sometimes seemed like days later, and say, ‘Come here, peanut.’ Then he’d throw me on his shoulders. I remember that. I always loved that.”
“What happened to him?”
“My mom.”
What? “She killed him?”
She laughs quietly. “No.” Her smile fades. “She got cancer.”
“Jesus, Molly. Why didn’t you tell me any of this before?”
She shrugs. “It was so long ago. I was only seven, so…” She picks at the corner of one of her red fingernails. “He was heartbroken when she died, so I’m told. He started drinking. And then one day, he ran his car into a tree. He died on impact.”