by Robin Huber
“Drew! I told him that I didn’t want to marry him last night.”
“Wait. What? You did?”
“Don’t worry, he’s in denial or something. He won’t talk to me about it until after the exhibit.”
Sebastian listens quietly, but I see a thousand thoughts cross his face.
“He said the only thing he wants me focused on right now is the exhibit, because it’s the biggest night of my career and he doesn’t want anything to mess it up.”
“Oh,” Sebastian says, pulling his dark eyebrows together behind his clear-framed glasses.
I put my face in my hands and cry, “And all I can do is worry about is Sam.”
“Because you love him.”
“I thought he loved me too,” I say, wiping my eyes.
“Sam does love you.”
“What if something changed? Maybe something clicked in him last night.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works.”
“I really hurt him, Bas.”
“Then you should call him.”
“And say what?”
“Hi, Sam. How are you? I’m glad you didn’t get shot!”
“He knows I’ve seen the story. Why hasn’t he called me?”
“Technically you haven’t seen the story. And, I don’t know, maybe he has PTSD from a man waving a gun around in his face.”
I give him an doubtful look.
“Okay, maybe he’s sleeping.”
“It’s one o’clock in the afternoon.”
“Maybe he was at the police station all night.”
I shudder at the thought.
“I’m sure there’s an explanation, Luc.”
“And what if there’s not? What if I lost Sam before I even got him? Or worse, what if this whole time he’s been someone I didn’t want to believe he could be? I mean, it would explain why he was in Brighton Park that time of night. Maybe he’s involved in something.”
Sebastian stands up. “Okay, I think we’re getting ahead of ourselves. Until you know the whole story, stop jumping to conclusions.”
I go to the foyer and grab my purse.
“Where are you going?”
“To clear my head.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“No.”
“Lucy.”
“I want to be alone.”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“I’m fine, Bas. I just need to be alone for a little while.”
“Okay,” he says, reluctantly. “But please check in with me later. Don’t forget and turn me into a crazy person running around the city looking for you.”
“I won’t.”
“Everything’s going to be fine,” he says unconvincingly.
“I hope you’re right.”
He shrugs one shoulder. “I usually am.”
Chapter 18
Lucy
It takes me only ten minutes to get to my studio from Sebastian’s downtown apartment. When I park my car, I drop my head to the steering wheel and peer inside my studio through the giant windows. Painting is usually my go-to fix, but as I gaze at my dark studio, I can’t find the motivation to go inside.
I see the reflection of an airplane in the glass, angling up into the sky. When it disappears, I look up and try to find it again. I see it and pull forward, rounding the corner to keep it in view. I drive several blocks and then turn again. And again.
Before I know it, I’m halfway to the airport and approaching Brighton Park.
I look at the rundown houses as I pass them, thinking of Sam and what happened somewhere near here last night. I check my gas gauge. I have a full tank. I didn’t mean to end up here, but it’s a straight shot to the airport, so I keep driving, watching the planes angling up into the sky as I get closer. I think about Sam and what life was like for us here. It was a hard life. At least that’s what everyone says. It’s what they think. But not me. Life was so much easier when we had nothing to trap us, to hold us back, to tangle us up. We just had each other. No strings. No binds. Just us. And we were happy.
I see a group of girls on the side of the street coloring the cracked sidewalk with chalk. They look up when I pass them, and I see the envy their eyes, the same envy I had at their age whenever a nice car drove down my street. But what they don’t realize is that I also envy them.
I follow the service road that circles the airport and find a place to pull off at the far end of the runway, on the right side of the barbed-wire fence. I turn my car off and open the door just as a plane takes off. I get out and watch it fly over me. I forgot how loud it was this close. I close my eyes and let the roaring engines take me back to when I was sixteen.
My phone vibrates in my hand, and I open my eyes. Sam. I fumble to answer it. “Sam,” I shout over the noisy engine.
He says something inaudible.
“I can’t hear you, hold on.” The plane disappears, taking the noise with it. “Sam?”
“Hey,” he answers tentatively.
“Are you okay?” I ask, needing to know that he really is.
“Yeah. I’m fine. Are you?”
“Yeah.” Physically, anyway. Mentally, not so much.
“Where are you?”
I chew the corner of my mouth. I wanted to talk to him, to hear his voice, to know that he was really okay. But I’m overflowing with fear and frustration and anger. I want to know what really happened last night, but I don’t think I can take hearing it right now.
“Lucy, where are you?” he asks again, as another plane flies over.
I press the phone to my ear and shout, “Sam, now’s not really a good time.”
“Lucy, please,” I hear him say when the plane is gone. “I need to see you.”
I close my eyes to block the tears that rush to them, but it doesn’t work. They leak onto my face anyway.
“Please, Lamb. Just tell me where you are.”
“I’m really glad you’re okay,” I say over the lump in my throat, and hang up the phone.
He immediately calls back, but I don’t answer. I toss my phone on the seat and shut the door.
Another plane screams overhead, and I watch it fly over, but the view isn’t the same standing up, so I climb onto the hood of my car and lean back against the windshield. I cross my outstretched legs and let the bright November sun warm me inside my jacket.
A few minutes later, I watch another plane fly across the cloudless blue sky. And another a few minutes after that.
I begin keeping count.
Five planes later, a car roars up next to mine, startling me.
Sam?
I sit up as he gets out and hurries over to me.
“Sam, what are you doing here? How did you—”
“Why weren’t you answering?” he asks desperately.
I shake my head, still wondering how he knew I was here. “I—” I close my eyes. I can’t look at him. I swing my legs over the side of the car and slide off the hood.
He stands in front of me. “Lucy, please.”
“What were you doing with her, Sam?”
He shakes his head. “It’s not what it looked like.”
“Really? Because it looked like you were involved in something sketchy at night in Brighton Park with a woman you’ve admittedly slept with.” I exhale and ask the question that’s been burning inside me since I left Sebastian’s apartment. “Were you…buying drugs?”
“What? No, I wasn’t buying drugs! I’ve never touched drugs. Dammit, Lucy, when are you going to believe me?”
“I don’t know what to believe,” I shout.
“Just let me explain.” His beautiful eyes implore me. “Please.”
I lean against the car and give him my attention as another plane flies over.
He inhales a deep breath and runs his hand through his hair, and the muscles in his arm flex beneath his painted skin. When it’s quiet again, he rubs his scruffy chin and tightens his square jaw. “You hurt me last night.” His eyes
water and it nearly knocks me down.
My heart comes out of hiding, where’s it’s been since Sebastian uttered the words He was with a woman, and it practically leaps out of my chest, wanting to comfort him.
“Sam—” I close my eyes, feeling overcome with guilt and regret. I know that I hurt him.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you back,” he says hoarsely. “That’s not why I was with Molly.” Hearing him say her name makes me nauseous. “But I know that it did hurt you. And I’m sorry.”
I look at him and shrug. “It’s my fault.” My own selfish fault. “I was so worried about Drew and the exhibit…” I exhale a sorrowful breath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for everything to get so screwed up.”
“It’s not screwed up.”
“Then why were you with her?” I ask desperately.
“I was really upset when I left you last night. I was angry. I just needed something to take my mind off it.” He shrugs. “She was there.”
I press my lips together and nod, accepting my punishment.
“We just talked.”
“You talked? In your car?”
“Would you rather I took her up to my apartment?”
I let out a weighted breath. No.
“I thought taking a drive was a better alternative. We just talked,” he says again.
“About what?”
“You.”
I close my eyes and shake my head.
“It’s true.” He gazes at me with honesty in his eyes, but I’m not ready to accept it.
“Why, so she can tweet something else about me?”
“She didn’t do that. She admitted to texting someone, probably because she was curious about you, and maybe a little jealous, but she didn’t put anything on Twitter. She wanted me to tell you that. She’s really sorry about it. She didn’t know who you were.”
I cross my arms and look down at my feet. “Is she okay?” I ask softly, allowing myself to feel sorry for her.
“She will be.”
“What were you doing driving around Brighton Park that late?”
“I just wanted to feel close to you.” He gazes at me and I exhale the last of my resentment.
I know exactly what he means. That’s how I felt driving here.
“Why did you wait until a few minutes ago to call me? What were you doing all morning?”
He holds up his right hand, which is no longer casted.
“You were getting your cast off,” I say, shaking my head, thinking of the anxiety I’ve had all day. Couldn’t that have waited? “I know you wanted it off, Sam, but considering last night’s events—”
“It had to come off before I saw you.”
“Why?”
“Because I knew that when I saw you, I’d have to do this.” He takes my face in his hands and kisses me passionately as another plane rumbles over us. He pushes and pulls my lips with his, and the scruff that surrounds them scrapes wonderfully against my skin, leaving it tingling and my lips swollen when he parts them. He caresses my tongue with his, healing the places in my heart that were falsely convinced of betrayal all day. A cry of relief bubbles out of me, and Sam responds with a moan. I no longer care about anything else. He is all that matters.
He tugs my lips between his teeth once more, then he kisses me softly and rubs his thumb over my cheek as the noise from the plane disappears.
“Damn that felt good,” he whispers, balling his right hand into a fist. He steps back and looks at me. “I’m sorry, I know you told me not to kiss you. But after last night…”
“It’s okay,” I breathe, trying to remember why I invoked that rule in the first place. When I remember, I press my tingling lips together and reach for his right hand. I turn it over and touch his palm. “Is it better?”
“It is now.” He laces his fingers with mine and gazes at me. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt you either,” I say, looking into his beautiful eyes.
He rubs his thumb over the back of my hand. “I’ll wait for you, Lucy. If you need more time, after the exhibit, you can have it.”
“No.” I shake my head and shrug. “I already told Drew.”
“You told him? What did you say?” His impatient eyes search me for the answer.
“That I didn’t want to get married.”
“You did?” he asks, unable to hide the relief in his eyes.
“Yes.”
“Is that all you told him?”
“Well, I tried to tell him about you and me, but he didn’t want to hear it. I think he believes I’ll change my mind if he gives me space. He wants to wait until after the exhibit to talk about everything. He said that I’ve worked too hard to let anything get in the way of it.”
He nods thoughtfully. “Well, that’s one thing we agree on. He shouldn’t get in the way of it. And neither should I.”
“Does it even matter anymore?”
He drops his chin and gives me a pensive look. “Yes, it does.”
“Sam, last night after you left, I realized the only thing that really matters is you.”
“Lucy—”
“When I was driving here, passing the streets we grew up on, all I could think about was how simple life was back then. How good it was. I didn’t have a fancy house or a car or a studio. I had you and that was all I needed.”
“You didn’t have those things, but you wanted them.”
I shrug. “I have them now. And without you, they’re meaningless. Without you, the studio, my paintings, my career…none of it matters.”
He shakes his head. “Forget everything else. I can buy you a house and a car and a studio. But I can’t buy back all the hard work you’ve put into your career, and into this exhibit.”
“Sam.”
“I’m not going to let you do anything to mess it up, not when it’s only a few days away. You, Lucy Marie Bennett, are going to earn your spot in New York.”
I bite my bottom lip, disappointed that it’s no longer tingling, and nod reluctantly. “I don’t want to hurt you anymore.”
“So don’t.” He shows me his dimples, and my heart searches for a chisel and stone to carve the following vow into: I will never hurt you again.
“You know Drew’s not going to be thrilled to see you at the exhibit,” I say warily.
“So does that mean I’m invited?” He fights a smile, and the corners of my mouth turn up.
“It would be a shame if the star of the show wasn’t there for the unveiling of his painting.”
“You’re going to use it?” He smiles freely now.
“It should draw quiet the crowd.”
“Well, I guess I better be there, then.”
I laugh softly, but my smile wanes. “Sam, you tend to bring out the worst in Drew. He made it clear last night that he didn’t want me to see you again.”
“Why, what did he do? Did he hurt you?” He scans my face.
“No.” I shake my head, ignoring his absurd assumption. Although I did see an unfavorable side of Drew last night. “He just said that you couldn’t take your eyes off me all night.” I raise an eyebrow at him.
“I can’t help it.” He shrugs. “It’s like breathing.”
“Yeah, well, he noticed.”
“It doesn’t help that I can’t touch you until after the exhibit.” He balls his right hand into a fist again, like he’s fighting some carnal urge to touch me now that it’s out of a cast.
I reach for his arms and wrap them around my waist. “Well, maybe you could kiss me again,” I say, throwing caution to the wind, desperate to feel his lips on mine again. “Just once more.”
He grins and shows me his dimples. “I’m not kissing you again until you’re mine.”
I give him an incredulous look. “But you just did.”
“In a moment of weakness.” He crinkles his eyes. “But I won’t do it again.” He drops his hands and leans against the car beside me.
I press my lips together and try to savor
the kiss, which I can no longer taste, knowing it will be my last until after the exhibit. Maybe even longer, depending on how everything goes with Drew.
I sigh quietly and frown.
Without looking at me, he loops his pinky with mine and grins, and his dimples send my heart soaring like the plane flying over us.
I gaze up at it and tug on his hand, pulling him toward the front of my car. He smiles and climbs up onto the hood after me, and we lie back against the cool windshield.
Seconds pass before he reaches for my hand again.
I squeeze his hand tight when another plane roars over us. When it’s gone, I let out the breath I was holding, along with all the stress from the last twenty-four hours. I feel Sam’s body relax too, and it fills me with a sense of peace and calm. I inhale another deep breath, savoring the comfort I feel lying beside him with the warm sun on my face.
I drop my head to the side and look at him staring up at the blue sky. “How did you know I was here?”
He looks at me and I lose myself in his eyes. “You can’t hide from me, Lucy. Not anymore. I’ll always find you.”
“Promise?”
“If I have to use every resource I have.”
The corners of my mouth turn up. “Good.”
Chapter 19
Lucy
I stand in front of the floor-length mirror in my bedroom, admiring my sparkly reflection. I put my hands on my waist and feel the tiny gold beads and crystals that cover the top half of my dress. A strip of black silk separates it from the long black taffeta skirt that touches the floor. I turn around and look at my bare back, and tighten the black silk ribbon that’s tied behind my neck.
I love this dress.
I swing my long, slicked-back ponytail and smile. I spontaneously stopped into the salon and had the bottom third of it dip-dyed pink for the occasion, and I think I love it even more than my dress.
“Lucy?”
“Upstairs,” I call to Sebastian, who is picking me up for the exhibit.
Drew is already at the studio with his staff getting the food set up. After three days in Philly, he returned home upbeat and determined to make the exhibit a culinary success. But I’m not so sure the space apart did me any good. It only exacerbated the fact that tonight is now the pendulum upon which our relationship swings. And I’m somewhat convinced he’s still completely unaware, which only adds to the cloud of anxiety that’s been looming over me all day. I wanted tonight to be about my work, but it’s been irrevocably tangled up with Drew and Sam, and I have no one to blame but myself.