I don’t miss the way he says we, and I’m sure Becca notices too. To her credit, she seems fine. I can tell she’s got this conversation, so I gently take her empty wine glass and hand it to a passing server. I figure I’ll go get us both another drink and let her finish up with her ex. I meet her eyes and tilt my head toward the bar. She nods back.
I get another glass of wine for Becca and opt for ice water for myself—I have to drive us home, and I want to be able to leave whenever she’s ready. When I walk back toward her, I notice Brandon is no longer alone. A woman stands next to him and his hand is on the small of her back. She’s wearing a fitted black dress and her dark hair is up in a sleek bun. Their backs are to me, and I quickly look past them to check Becca’s face. Being surprised by her ex is one thing. Having to face his new girlfriend is another. But her expression is friendly and relaxed. She doesn’t seem particularly bothered by this sudden turn of events.
I walk over and hand Becca her wine. From the corner of my eye, I’m struck by the vivid red lipstick Brandon’s girlfriend is wearing. I look over to find her staring at me, open-mouthed, her eyes wide. My blood runs cold and the air rushes from my lungs, like I just got punched in the gut.
It’s Valerie.
22
22: Lucas
I stare at the woman standing across from me. There’s no mistaking that face. Sharp cheekbones, deep brown eyes, precise makeup. It’s been a few years since I’ve seen her, but she looks exactly the same. What the fuck is she doing here?
The punched-in-the-gut feeling intensifies and it takes all my self-control to maintain calm on the outside.
“Lucas?” Valerie asks. Her cheeks flush and her eyebrows draw together in a severe line.
“Valerie,” I manage to get out.
Becca looks back and forth between us, her lips parted in surprise.
“Do you know each other?” Brandon asks.
Valerie takes a deep breath and smooths her features. She puts a hand on Brandon’s arm. “I’m sorry, honey. Yes, Lucas and I have a bit of history.”
‘A bit of history’? More like you crushed my heart, you cheating bitch. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same question,” she says.
“It’s my girlfriend’s parents’ anniversary party.” I step closer to Becca and clasp her hand in mine. “I was invited.”
“We’re in town so I can meet Brandon’s parents,” Valerie says. “It just so happened to coincide with this dinner, and they asked us to come along.”
I stare at her, feeling sick to my stomach. How is this even possible? The silence stretches to the point of awkwardness, but I can’t make myself look away and my throat is so tight I can’t talk. Brandon glances between me and Valerie a few times, his mouth moving like he wants to say something.
Finally, Becca looks at Brandon and breaks the silence. “Well, this is… strange. How did you two meet?”
“Work,” Brandon says. “I met Valerie on a business trip when I was still living in Seattle. My firm was working with hers on a merger. We hit it off immediately, and that’s when I…” He clears his throat. “That’s when I told you. I moved to New York to be with her shortly after. Things moved pretty fast, but when you meet the one, there’s no reason to hold back.”
The one, my ass. She’s probably fucking around on this guy too.
Brandon looks at Valerie the way a puppy looks at his owner, and I think I might vomit. Valerie smiles back. I know that fucking smile. It’s how she used to look at me. God, did I look at her with the same dumbfuck expression Brandon is giving her now?
Valerie reaches up to adjust Brandon’s tie. That’s when I realize there’s a giant rock on her finger.
She seems to notice my eyes on her ring and holds out her hand, as if to show it off. “This is why we came to Seattle. Brandon proposed last week. He wanted to tell his family in person, and I hadn’t met them yet, so here we are.”
Becca squeezes my hand. “Well, congratulations to both of you.”
“Thanks,” Brandon says. “It looks like everything worked out for the best.”
“It definitely did,” Becca says.
There’s an exchange of goodbyes and I try not to make eye contact with Valerie. I’m seething inside, my gut churning. I moved across the entire fucking country to get away from her—to get away from what she did to me. And here she is, floating around a dinner party on the arm of some jackass, showing off her giant diamond.
It never occurred to me to wonder what it would be like to see her again. The last time we met, she dropped off the key to our apartment. We didn’t say a word to each other. She just glared at me and handed me the key. From the moment she confessed to sleeping with some fucker at work, she’d gone ice cold, as if the entire thing were somehow my fault. As if she’d never felt anything for me, and she was impatient to get me out of her life.
Seeing her now, I’m hit with a mix of anger and grief. Back then, I thought I was in love with her. She swept into my life like a fire, consuming me. When she left, I was nothing but a pile of cold ashes. I’m angry that I let her do that to me. Angry that she can still hurt me, even years later. I’m flooded with the same bitter sense of loss.
Somehow, Becca and I make it through dinner, keeping our distance from Brandon and Valerie. Afterward, her parents take her aside and talk to her for a while. She tells them goodbye, explaining that we have a long drive. I hear them offer to bring her home tomorrow if she wants to stay the night. They don’t extend the invitation to me, and she refuses.
We head out and Becca is quiet for most of the drive, watching out the window. I can tell something is bothering her. She’s stiff, her knees angled away from me. She chews on her lower lip and doesn’t look in my direction.
Despite all the surprises, I would have thought she’d be pleased with herself. If you have to see the ex who broke your heart, tonight was the way to do it. For her, at least. She was stunning and sure of herself, and even got in a few digs about her newly enhanced sexuality. Granted, Valerie was a curve ball neither of us saw coming. But Becca knew Brandon was with someone else. The fact that she’s my ex-girlfriend shouldn’t have made things measurably worse for Becca. She looked them both in the eye, calm and confident. She has every reason to feel proud, yet I can tell she’s struggling.
The truth is, I’m struggling too.
I want to reach over and touch her. Kiss her like I did when we arrived at her parents’ house. It felt good to be with her tonight. All those moments—kissing her hand, touching her skin, looking into her eyes. Standing by her side. They felt right.
I want to ask her if she’s okay, but I don’t know if I trust myself. There are words skipping through my mind, like rocks on the water—pinging across the glassy surface of my thoughts in a steady repetition. Words like mine, and future, and another one that begins with an L, that I can’t even bear to let myself think.
Maybe I should just say it. Tell her what I’m feeling. Admit that I—
But I’m not supposed to want her like this. I’ve told myself a million times that she and I are great as friends, but we can’t cross into something more. I swore I’d never put myself in that position again.
Seeing Valerie tonight reminded me why.
The thought of Valerie’s face makes me sick with anger. I trusted her with a piece of myself and I’ve regretted it every day since she left me. I upended my life to stay in New York with her—fought with my dad over it, changed all my plans. When it was over, I felt like an idiot for believing that what she and I had was real. It never was, not if she could throw it back in my face the way she did.
When I moved home, the answer seemed so obvious. Don’t get involved again. Keep it casual. I could meet a woman and enjoy her for a night or two, and avoid all the potential for heartbreak. I was always honest. I never let any woman believe what we had was more than a short fling. If they were in for that, great. If not, I’d move on.
And
it worked. Most of the time, anyway. Sure, there were a few women (Angela Miller comes to mind) who said they were fine with a bit of casual sex, but were really hoping for more. That didn’t always end well. But for the most part, I had everything I wanted. Work, friends, hobbies. Afternoons spent surfing. Beers at the pub. Plenty of money.
Then in walked Becca.
“Are we going to say anything about tonight?” Becca asks out of the blue when we drive through the entrance to Jetty Beach.
“I don’t know what there is to say.”
“Well, we could talk about the fact that my ex-boyfriend is engaged to your ex-girlfriend. I think that’s kind of a big deal.”
I shake my head. What are the fucking odds? “It was a surprise. I never thought I’d see her again. But Valerie and I were over a long time ago. It’s not a big deal.”
“You’ve been acting like it is a big deal.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You did a total one-eighty. First you were mister perfect sweetheart, kissing me and touching me in front of everyone, even Brandon. I kind of thought…” She looks out the window and takes a deep breath. “And then Valerie showed up and you went all cold. Are you okay?”
No. I hate that she can still get to me, and I hate that she’s making me doubt what I feel for you. “Yeah, of course I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be?”
Becca sighs again. “There are plenty of reasons why you might not be okay. This was a really weird night for both of us.”
“I don’t know what else you want me to say. It happened. It was awkward. It caught me off guard, that’s all. Can we move on?”
“Don’t you think it caught me off guard?” she asks. “I had no idea Brandon would be there, let alone show up with a fucking fiancée. And you act like you don’t even care.”
“You had the perfect moment with him,” I say, frustration leaking into my voice. “You looked amazing, and you said all the right things. You even got in a small-dick joke. What more do you want?”
“I don’t know. I just don’t understand what’s going on with you,” she says. “You’ve hardly said a word to me. I don’t know if you’ve even looked at me since you saw her.”
What the hell, is she jealous? Please don’t make this more confusing for me, Becca. “What do you want? Do you want me to assure you I don’t care? To tell you I don’t have feelings for her anymore? Because I don’t know why that would matter to you. It’s not like we’re together. We’re just friends.”
Becca turns to look out the window so I can’t see her face. I clench my jaw and grip the steering wheel. Fuck. Why did I say that? It’s true, isn’t it? We are just friends.
Then why did it feel so shitty to say it?
I turn up our driveway and pull into my parking spot. “Becca, listen—”
“No, you’re right,” she says. “We are just friends. It was a mistake to ask you to come with me tonight. I should have gone on my own.”
“It wasn’t a mistake,” I say. “I didn’t want you to go alone.”
“This whole thing was a mistake.” She throws open her door and gets out.
Whoa, what the fuck is happening right now? I get out and follow her as she strides to her door, pulling her keys out of her purse. “What do you mean, this whole thing was a mistake?”
She stops in front of her door but doesn’t turn around. “Lucas, I can’t do this anymore.”
“What are you talking about? Can’t do what?”
“All of this,” she says, and I can hear her trying not to cry. “You and me. I didn’t think it would be too much, but it is.”
I know what she means, but I don’t want to hear it. I can’t hear it. Not right now. Not tonight.
“It’s not your fault,” she says, her voice suddenly quiet. “I knew. You were honest with me, and I knew what you were like. I thought I could handle it. But I can’t. I’m feeling too many things when we’re together and it’s making me want things I can’t have. I hate the idea that we can’t be friends anymore, because I kind of don’t know what I’m going to do without you.” She pauses and wipes beneath her eyes. “And, who knows, maybe someday we can be friends again. But for right now, I can’t.”
“Can’t be friends anymore?” I ask. Panic tightens my chest. “Of course we can. We can back off—take things down a notch.”
“Maybe you can, but I can’t,” she says. “I need a break from you. No more games. No more adventures. No more sex. No more hanging out.”
“But Becca—”
“I don’t want to have to move again, but that might be what it takes,” she says. “For now, I need you to leave me alone. Don’t come over, or call, or text. I need some time.”
“Wait.”
She pauses, her key in the door, but I don’t know what to say. I’m sick to my stomach, my head spinning.
“This is what you wanted,” she says, finally turning to look at me over her shoulder. “No commitment. You don’t owe me anything. But that means I don’t owe you anything, either. This was just a game to you, and I can’t play anymore.”
She opens her door and walks in, then closes it behind her.
I stand there for a long moment, staring. What just happened is a stupid thing to ask myself. I know what happened.
I just lost her.
23: Becca
Tears stream down my face the second I get the door closed behind me. Somehow I managed to keep from sobbing in front of Lucas, but now my resolve is gone. I drop my purse and step out of my shoes. I don’t bother turning on any lights. I simply go upstairs, fall into bed, and bury myself in the comforter.
Tonight was, without a doubt, the worst night of my life. I’d thought the night Brandon broke up with me would forever hold that title. But even puking in a fancy restaurant on the man I once thought I’d marry can’t compare to the utter shit show that was my parents’ anniversary party.
Lucas played the part of my boyfriend far too convincingly. In a way, I think I would have felt better about it if he’d resisted—if he’d been upset with me for lying. But he just smiled that brain-melting smile of his. And that kiss in the car. Sweet and lovely and wonderful. Why would he kiss me like that? No one was watching. He didn’t need to start pretending.
All night, every touch was both amazing and terrible. It was everything I’d ever wanted from him, but never dared to hope for. His looks, his caresses, his stolen kisses. I loved it. Nervous as I was, I basked in the glow of being with him. Of not holding anything back when I looked at him. After all, we had a show to put on. He didn’t have to know there was truth in my eyes.
Then, seeing Brandon made my heart feel like it stopped. But by the time I had to speak to him, I was overcome with a sense of calm. Part of it was Lucas’s hand on my skin—the warmth of his touch lending me strength. But I knew that even if Lucas hadn’t been there, I would have been okay. I wasn’t self-assured because I had a fake boyfriend for the night. I was confident because whether I’m single or part of a couple, I’m proud of myself. I’m making my own choices and living my own life. Knowing that erased the last traces of any power Brandon may have once had over me. I’m truly better off without him.
Even meeting his new girlfriend wasn’t as awful as I would have imagined. It was interesting to see how completely unlike me she was. Taller, dark hair, sharp and businesslike. Brandon could hardly have found anyone more my opposite. I noticed her ring immediately—long before she mentioned it—and even that didn’t hurt.
And then Lucas came back and all hell broke loose.
The woman holding the arm of my ex, wearing a ring I once thought would have been meant for me, was the same woman who broke Lucas’s heart.
I’m not dumb. I know why Lucas doesn’t want to be in a real relationship. He was hurt, and judging by the way he looked when he saw Valerie, he was hurt more deeply than I ever realized. The depth of pain in his eyes twisted my heart. It made me want to rush him out of there as fast as I could—to hold him and c
omfort him and do anything to make him feel better.
But it was like a switch had flipped, and the Lucas I know was gone. After we finished our awkward conversation with Brandon and Valerie, he was practically silent, avoiding my gaze like he couldn’t bear to look at me.
Was it because he remembered how much he’d loved Valerie? Was I suddenly a reminder of everything he had lost?
Whatever the reason, everything about tonight left me feeling hollow and confused.
I spent the drive home trying to sort through the storm of emotions raging inside me. Shock at seeing Brandon again. Jealousy at the way Lucas looked at Valerie. Sadness at how hurt he was. Agony over how much I wished we weren’t pretending to be a couple. I didn’t know what to do with it all. I still don’t.
If Lucas had given me the slightest hint that he was being genuine—that maybe he feels something for me too—I would have confessed everything. Blurted out that I love him. That he doesn’t need her because he has me. He can have all of me if he wants. He only has to ask.
But he didn’t. He reminded me in no uncertain terms that we’re just friends. That was the deal.
And if a woman like Valerie had his heart—a woman so utterly different from me—how could I think he’d want someone like me now?
The week goes by, and avoiding Lucas is easier than I thought it would be. I keep the curtain on my back door closed. When I need to go places, I hurry to my car so I don’t risk running into him out front. I can hear him when he’s home, but I keep the TV on a lot to drown out the little sounds that carry through the walls.
Living with the hole in my heart is much harder.
I miss him terribly. I miss the sound of his voice. His smile. The way he’d grin at me through the sliding glass door, sending little pings of nervousness through me whenever he’d come over. I miss the way his skin felt against mine. His lips. His hands. My body aches for him, but more than missing the sex, I miss his friendship. Talking with him until all hours of the night. Sharing funny things I found online. Watching movies and sharing a bowl of kettle corn. We were together all the time, and now I’m suddenly so lonely.
Good Girl Next Door: A Steamy Small-Town Romance (Jetty Beach Book 6) Page 15