by Robin Huber
“The fight starts at seven. I want to be there.”
“You’re going to Quebec?”
I shrug. “I’ve made Sam wait long enough, don’t you think?”
Sebastian’s eyes dart around like he’s connecting points on a graph. “Okay, well, have you looked at flights yet?”
“No.”
“Take this,” he says, handing me the drugstore bag and my makeup. He pulls out his phone and starts tapping the screen. “Go.” He urges me toward the bathroom. “Wait, take your clothes,” he says, handing me the dry-cleaning bag.
“Bas—”
“I know, you couldn’t live without me. It’s true. Now get your butt in that bathroom and get dressed!”
I smile, feeling hopeful, and hurry to the bathroom. I open the dry-cleaning bag and find my black ripped-kneed skinny jeans, a white cami, and my soft gray oversized cable-knit sweater. I shake the bag and find my black suede lace-up ballet flats at the bottom of it. I throw on my clothes and rummage through the drugstore bag, finding deodorant, toothpaste, and a toothbrush. He really is the best. I grab my brush and a hair tie from my makeup bag and pull my hair up into a messy ponytail. Then I rub on some tinted moisturizer, brush on some mascara, and dab my lips with gloss.
I step out of the bathroom feeling refreshed and ready. Kind of. Sebastian is still tapping away on his phone. “Okay,” he says without looking up. “I’ve got two tickets out of Atlanta at 1:18.”
“Two tickets?”
He looks up at me. “You’re crazy if you think I’m letting you leave the country by yourself.”
I press my lips together over a smile. “It’s just Canada, remember,” I say, smirking.
“We have a two-hour layover in Toronto, so we won’t actually get to Quebec until seven.”
“Seven? That’s too late,” I say, panicked. “The fight starts at seven.”
“That’s the best I can do, Luc. We’ll just have go straight to the arena from the airport.”
I take a deep breath and nod, grateful that he’ll be with me. “Okay.”
“That’s a much better look for you,” he says, eyeing my outfit.
“Thanks.” I smile and drop my hands to my hips. “A friend of mine picked it out. He’s got great taste.”
“You’re just lucky that I had some of your dry cleaning in my car. And those shoes, which have been rolling around in my back seat for weeks.” He picks my dress up off the floor where it fell off me last night and clears his throat. “You know, you could have at least laid it across a chair or something.” He gathers it in his hands. “A dress like this deserves better.”
“I’ll remember that next time.”
He shakes his head at me. “Are you ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
Chapter 22
Lucy
Sebastian and I are both quiet on the drive to my house, until the silence makes me anxious. “Can you turn on the radio?” I ask, pulling my thumbnail to my mouth. I scrape my teeth back and forth over the edge of it.
“Yeah.” He turns the radio on, but the soft tempo and soulful voice pouring from the speakers doesn’t help.
I gaze out of my window and see a plane angling up into the clouds that now blanket the sky. I let out a heavy sigh, thinking of Sam, imagining that it’s his plane.
“We could go straight to the airport instead. Flee the country and whatnot,” Bas teases.
“Don’t tempt me.”
He pats my bouncing knee. “You’re going to be fine, Luc. Just think, in a couple of hours you’ll be on your way to see Sam.” He glances at his watch and I know that I’m going to have to hurry or we’ll miss the flight.
He pulls into my neighborhood and my heart pounds with both apprehension and determination. I take a deep breath as he navigates the tree-lined street, and I feel the angst grow with every familiar driveway we pass. By the time he pulls up in front of the house and puts the car in park, I’m frozen.
My pulse pounds in my ears when I look up at the house and think about everything I’m about to give up.
Sebastian turns to me and takes one of my hands in his. “Don’t waste another second because you’re afraid, Lucy. Be brave.” He gives my hand a reassuring squeeze, and I swallow down the trepidation that’s creeping up my throat.
“Okay.” I open the door and step outside, welcoming the cool breeze that blows against my heated cheeks.
“I’ll be waiting right here,” he says as I shut the door.
I give him a weak smile and make my way to the house, stepping on the brown papery leaves that cover the ground as I go. By the time I reach the front door, the fall air has wrapped around me and creeped inside my sweater. I rub my arms and pull my keys out of my bag. I can’t remember the last time I used my key to open the front door, but it occurs to me I probably never will again. I push the door open and walk inside.
“Drew?” I call up the stairs.
He walks out of the kitchen wearing sweats and messy hair. “Where have you been?” Concern, relief, anger, and sadness each take their turn on his face.
I stare at him for several seconds, thinking of everything I need to say to him, but as he looks at me, my feelings slide off my shoulders without my saying anything at all. The truth lands at his feet, and his face falls.
“You were with him.”
“Drew—”
He runs his hands through his hair, and I see the realization in his eyes. “Did you sleep with him?”
Tears roll down my cheeks as I look in his eyes and answer honestly. “Yes.”
He stares at me for several stunned seconds before exhaling. “Wow.” He staggers over to the stairs and sits down on the bottom step.
I ignore the giant pit in my stomach, pick up my heavy feet, and go sit beside him.
“I know you said you didn’t want to get married, but I didn’t think—I thought—” He looks at me with watery eyes and huffs. “You didn’t even give me a chance.”
I drop my head to the side and give him a rueful look, because it wouldn’t have made a difference. “I’m sorry.”
“Was this a onetime thing, or…”
“Yes. I mean, we haven’t…since we were kids.”
He huffs a quiet breath and shuts his eyes.
“But I kissed him,” I admit, snipping the string to the balloon of guilt that’s been tied to me ever since.
He looks at me with disappointment in his eyes.
“I wanted to tell you about it. I tried to. Right after it happened, I called and called, but you wouldn’t answer.” I close my eyes and shake my head. “That’s no excuse, I just…I wanted to tell you. It’s been eating me up inside. But I didn’t know how to tell you that I love him. That I’ve always loved him. Even when I tried not to. And I’m sorry for hiding that from you. I should have told you a long time ago. I just was afraid.”
“Of what?”
“Of losing everything that’s good in my life. The studio, my career…you.” I shake my head and say solemnly, “The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you.”
He drops his chin and asks roughly, “So is that why you never told me about him before?”
I nod and look in his eyes. “Yes, because I love you too, Drew.”
“Just not enough.”
I swallow the hard lump in my throat. “No. Not the way that you deserve.”
“What I deserve? What I deserve is a fiancée who wants to get married, who doesn’t flinch at the mention of a wedding dress.” He shakes his head. “I knew you were getting cold feet before all this. I just wish I knew why.”
“Drew, there’s a part of my life I’ve never told you about. An ugly part that doesn’t fit into a memory box or a photo album. A part that I worked very hard to try to forget about. And I did, for a long time. When I met you, I was so lost. But you were like a candle flickering in the night, leading me out of the dark. You opened my eyes to a world that was big and bright and full of promise, a life that gave me hope. You
helped me find purpose and showed me how to pursue my passion. You picked up all my broken pieces and made me whole again. You loved me.”
“I still do.” He looks at me with tears in his eyes. “I did those things because I love you,” he says, lassoing my heart and tugging it hard. “From the moment I saw you, I knew you were different. The way you spoke, the way you moved, the way you shielded your eyes from everything around you. Maybe nobody else saw it, but you couldn’t hide your scars from me. They were deep and they were beautiful. Just like you.”
“Drew,” I cry, feeling a shift in the earth beneath me.
“I know that you have a history of people leaving you. Your dad and then your mom, the way that she did. Sam left you too. But I want to be the one who stays.”
A cry bubbles out of me.
“I know I don’t have your history the way he does. But I know you, Lucy. I know us. And I know what we can be together. Just give me a chance.”
“Drew.”
“You don’t have to do this, Lucy. I forgive you, okay? After everything that happened last night and the way that I left, I understand why you went to him. But I forgive you,” he says, piercing my heart with his desperate eyes.
I inhale a shaky breath and look at his face, full of forgiveness that squeezes my heart. I reach for his warm hand and hold it in both of mine. “I’ll always love you, Drew. You gave me a life I never knew before and you taught me to chase my dreams. You believed in my talent and helped me start my career, and I will always be so grateful for that. And for the two years we spent together.” I smile softly and squeeze his hand. “I love how hard you work for your future. And I know that one day, you’re going to find the right person to share it with.”
“Lucy.”
“That person’s not me, Drew. My heart belongs to Sam. I could go on pretending that it doesn’t, but eventually, maybe years from now, you’d realize it. And I won’t let that happen. Because you deserve to be happy. I think we both do.”
Chapter 23
Lucy
“You know you can’t take all of this,” Sebastian says, closing his trunk over the mound of clothes I deposited in it.
“We’ll sort it out when we get there. Can we just go, please?” I beg, rounding his car to get in. I open the door and plop down in the passenger seat, trying not to look up at the picturesque house I called home for the last year, but my traitorous eyes steal one last glimpse of it. As soon as Sebastian pulls away, I let out a breath that’s accompanied by a quiet sob.
“Oh, honey,” he says, reaching for my back.
“I just can’t believe it’s over,” I say, wiping my eyes.
“I know it wasn’t easy for you.”
“Do you think he’ll be okay, Bas?”
“Drew, yes. Janice, however…”
My shoulders slump. “I’ll reach out to her when we get back, try to apologize. But I have a feeling Drew will forgive me before she does.”
Sebastian glances at the clock on the dash. “You don’t have time to worry about it now. The flight leaves in an hour.”
“Just hurry, okay?”
“Well, maybe we wouldn’t be so rushed if someone didn’t decide to empty her entire closet into my car.”
“I wasn’t sure what the protocol was. I just grabbed everything I could carry. It didn’t help that Drew’s heartbroken eyes were glued to me the whole time. I think I was having an out-of-body experience.”
“Did you ask him about the studio?”
“No.” I sigh and shake my head. “I couldn’t. It’s too soon.”
“Well, Drew’s a good businessman. Whatever he decides, I’m sure it will be well thought out over weeks, if not months. You have time to consider your options.”
I drop my head back against the seat rest and look at him. “Sam offered to buy it.”
“Well, that seems like a pretty good option.”
“I can’t let him do that, Sebastian. What would that say about me?”
“That your boyfriend’s a millionaire.” He smirks.
I shake my head at the notion. “I wouldn’t feel comfortable.”
“You could sell the painting of Sam, buy the studio on your own,” he offers, giving me a sideways glance.
“That isn’t an option either.”
“I know. I was just throwing it out there.” He taps his thumb against the steering wheel as he drives, and says quietly, “Two hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars.”
“Right now, there are more pressing matters. What am I going to wear to the fight? I can’t go in this,” I say, pulling on my sweater.
“I made arrangements.”
“You did?”
“I’m nothing if not resourceful. While you were inside, I was scouring the Toronto airport for clothes on my phone. Luckily, there are a few high-end stores near our gate. They’re holding a dress for you and a suit for me.”
“You never cease to amaze me.”
“I just hope your shoes from last night are somewhere in that crumpled pile in my trunk. They’ll look great with what I bought you.”
“Underneath it, actually.”
“Oh, good.”
“What about tickets to the fight?”
“I’ve got it covered.”
“Did Paul pull some strings at work or something?”
“No, I called Miles.”
“Miles? Sam’s manager, Miles?”
“Yes. He gave me his business card last night, so I called him.”
“Wait a minute. How did you call him? Aren’t they on their way to Quebec? Was Sam with him? Of course he was.” I answer my own question quicker than I asked it. “Does he know you called? Does he know that we’re coming? Was he okay? Is he upset?”
“I don’t know, Lucy,” he says, stopping me. “He didn’t pick up.”
“Oh.”
“I left him a message. I asked him to leave the tickets at will call, but told him not to tell Sam because you wanted to surprise him.”
“You don’t think he should tell him I’m coming?”
“We don’t need him distracted,” he says, raising his eyebrows.
“Right.”
“Now, let’s get this show on the road,” he says, taking the exit for the airport. “Just pray that the security check line isn’t long.”
Thirty minutes later, we’re running through the Atlanta airport.
“Excuse me. Pardon me,” Sebastian says, weaving through the crowd of people.
I follow on his heels as closely as possible, keeping my head down to avoid their annoyed, judging looks. Yes, we’re late for our plane because I was busy breaking off my engagement.
“Come on,” Sebastian says, taking my hand as he jogs through an open path. “Gate F5, up there on the right.”
“Do you think we’ll make it?”
He looks at his watch as he runs, impressing me with his coordination. “We have five minutes before they close the gate. Run faster.”
When we reach the gate, I drop my hands to my knees and suck in as much oxygen as I can, but Sebastian is barely out of breath. Sam was right, I need to get to the gym.
“Boarding passes, please,” the stewardess says.
We hand them to her and enter the jetway.
“I can’t believe we made it,” I say, feeling the blood return to my legs.
“Me neither,” Sebastian says, smoothing his hair.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Québec City Jean Lesage International Airport,” the pilot says over the speaker as we taxi to our gate. “Local time is 7:02 p.m. and the temperature is thirty-five degrees. Grab those jackets.”
I look down at my exposed thighs and give Sebastian a worried look. He obviously wasn’t considering the temperature in Quebec when he chose my sleeveless black cocktail dress.
“Bienvenue à l’aéroport international Jean Lesage de Québec,” a female voice says.
“They speak French here,” I say, shaking my head.
“And English,�
�� Bas reassures. “We’ll be fine.”
“I’m going to freeze in this,” I say, glancing down at my exposed shoulders.
Sebastian takes his suit jacket off and hands it to me. “Put this on until we get there.”
I shrug into it as we make our way down the narrow aisle.
Sebastian already has his phone to his ear before we exit the plane. “Thanks, we’ll be outside in about ten minutes,” he says to the Uber driver.
“It’s twenty minutes to the arena, Bas. The fight might be over by the time we get there.”
“You headed to the Ackerman fight?” a burly man behind me asks.
“The Cole fight,” Sebastian answers.
“By looks of that first round, it’ll be the Ackerman fight,” he says, staring at his phone.
“Why, what happened?” I ask, panicked.
“Sam Cole’s finally met his match, that’s what happened.”
I glare at the man, but Sebastian grabs my elbow and pulls me into the busy airport. “Let’s go.”
I run beside him, feeling my ponytail swing back and forth to beat of my heels tapping across the floor. Since we already cleared customs in Toronto, it doesn’t take long to reach the exit. I wrap Sebastian’s jacket around me before we step outside, but it doesn’t block the chilly Canadian air that wraps around my bare legs and creeps up my ruffled skirt. Thankfully, my dress has a high neckline, so I’m not completely exposed to the elements. But holy crap, it’s cold.
Sebastian spots our Uber and ushers me into the back seat.
“You are going to the Ackerman fight, correct?” the driver asks in his French accent.
“The Cole fight,” I grumble.
“Yes. Please hurry,” Sebastian says, showing me the time on his phone. It’s 7:15. “We’re obviously running late.”
“I will turn it on for you,” the driver says, changing the channel and turning up the volume on his radio.
And that’s another hard blow to the head for Sam Cole, the commentator says, and I grab Sebastian’s hand.
“It’s okay, he can take it,” Bas tries to reassure me.
If you’re a Sam Cole fan, this is not easy to watch…No, another announcer says, this isn’t the Sam Cole we’re used to seeing fight…And that is the end of round three…A smiling Ackerman is showing the world that Sam Cole isn’t the only champion in the ring tonight.