by Kylie Walker
“This is ridiculous, Lucas,” he whispered harshly to himself. “Knock on the damn door!” He wouldn’t be able to eat or sleep without knowing for sure how Abigail felt about the situation. He had to defend himself. He had to get the truth out there in the open. She could take it or leave it, but he had to tell her regardless. And he prayed that she’d forgive him.
With a short sigh, he tapped his knuckles against the wooden door. He held his breath and waited. The silence was deafening, eerily quiet. The only sound he could hear was his own swallowing and his pulse pounding in his ears. God, he’d never imagined a day when he’d be chasing after a woman.
“Just a second,” he heard an unfamiliar female voice call out from within.
Great. Was someone else was there too? He didn’t want an audience. Was it her roommate? Was Abigail even home? What if she had gone somewhere else to grief and wallow in her sadness?
Before he had a chance to answer any of the questions in his mind or pacify his mental stability in any shape or form, the door swung open. He was staring at Meghan straight in the face.
At first, she didn’t react. Then, her eyes widened. Her mouth went slack and hung open as she gaped at him. The color drained from her face, and she looked horrified. What the hell had Abigail told her? He wasn’t a monster.
“Hi Meghan,” he managed to croak.
“What are you doing here?” Meghan asked. Her lips pursed into a pencil thin line.
“I need to talk to Abigail. It’s important.”
He refused to plead or let any sign of such display in his voice. Steeling himself, he shut the doubts out of his mind. Come hell or high water; he was going to get to Abigail so that he could tell his side of the story. All she had to do was hear him out. He was confident that he’d done nothing wrong, except not deal with Christy properly years ago. Now it could be too late.
Meghan defiantly crossed her arms over her chest and behaved as if she was going to be the gatekeeper that stood between him and Abigail’s emotional state of mind.
“Who is it, Meghan?” Lucas heard Abigail’s wary voice call out from further inside the apartment.
Meghan instinctively stood in between the doorway and Lucas to prevent him from rushing inside to get to Abigail.
“Move, Meghan,” Lucas said with a rush of heat and budding anger that he felt in every inch of his body. “Whatever she told you... whatever she thinks is true, isn’t. Let me in so I can speak to her.”
Meghan wasn’t having it. She shook her head and gave him a sour scowl. “She doesn’t want to talk to you. She doesn’t want to see you or look at you, you piece of shit.”
Her words were like a knife to his gut, but he had to persevere. He wasn’t leaving until he’d spoken to the woman who held his heart.
Breathing in through his nose, he softened his stance. “I deserve that. I do. The way it looked when Abigail walked in, hell, I’d have lost my shit if the roles were reversed. But she needs to hear me out, and she needs to make her own decision.”
“I think her decision has already been made,” Meghan said in a sarcastic tone. “And it doesn’t concern you.”
“I’d like to hear it from her lips. And only her.”
“She doesn’t want to see you.” Meghan nodded. Her eyes flickered with animosity, daring Lucas to argue with her.
He groaned. He ran a hand through his hair again out of frustrated habit and shifted his weight. Part of him just wanted to push past her and get to Abigail, but he knew that would probably just cause more problems for him. He was already on her short list.
“Meg?” Abigail called out from somewhere inside. “Who is it?”
“Some asshole trying to sell me bullshit,” Meghan said. “It’s no one. Don’t worry about it.”
And with that, she gave Lucas a cold glare and slammed the door right in his face.
“Damn it!”
Lucas was tempted to pound his fist against the door. He slapped a hand against the doorframe instead, breathing hard, leaning his body low. Fuck, this wasn’t turning out like he’d thought it would. He had to keep his cool, get himself together and try again. He was about to knock a second time, planning to push past Meghan if she answered. But he stopped himself.
He had a better idea. He jogged down the stairs in the stairwell. He was too angry to take the elevator. He needed to release some of that negative energy and running down the stairs was therapeutic of sorts. If Meghan was going to be his roadblock for now and not let him pass to talk to Abigail, he would have to take matters into his own hands. He wouldn’t force the issue. He wouldn’t stand there and demand to be let inside. He would be negating the entire purpose of what he was trying to achieve, that he wasn’t a complete asshole like they viewed him to be.
He knew that Abigail worked at a coffee shop in the afternoons. It was right across the street from her apartment building. He would wait for her to arrive, and then he would do his best to convince her to talk to him.
It wasn’t technically stalking. He knew that she would be going into work soon anyway because she’d filled him in on her schedule before. Maybe she’d expect him to be there. Who the hell knew? He could swoop in like the guys did in the movies and try to convince her that he wasn’t a total asshole. But this wasn’t the movies. It was far from it. Reality didn’t always have such a happy ending. He knew the hardship of life throwing him curveballs. He wasn’t immune to suffering. He started walking across the street.
The click of a camera drew his attention. Shit! Across the street, a few paparazzi were pointing their elongated lenses in his direction. Damn, they must have followed from his apartment. He jogged down an empty alleyway behind the coffee shop to the sound of his name being called from the photogs across the way. He ignored them, hoping they’d not gotten a single picture they could use.
He felt like a sleazeball for being in the alley, like he was just waiting to pounce on Abigail. But he didn’t need an audience for what he was about to do. The paparazzi were so damn suffocating sometimes. Especially now, when he needed to be able to talk to Abigail, but he was resorted to having to attempt it in a public place. Being in public always made him feel like he was under a microscope and tonight of all times, he didn’t need that shit.
There was no room for errors, no room for loud arguments in the street. If he tried to talk to Abigail and she wouldn’t give him the opportunity, he would have to leave it alone for the time being and try again when he wasn’t under the scrutiny and watchful eye of the shark-like paparazzi camera lenses. They were always hungry for a story which would derail his career and paint him in a negative light.
Lucas peeked from behind the building. He no longer saw the car where the paparazzi had been lurking and hiding out behind their lenses. He took a deep breath and attempted to venture out into the street again, being careful to keep his head down. Maybe if he partially hid his face, there was less chance for the pedestrians walking down the sidewalk to recognize him.
His heart was pounding. The scent of coffee beans flooded his nostrils, coming from the shop inside where Abigail worked. He couldn’t loiter outside, but he didn’t want to miss her before she journeyed inside. It was a narrow window of opportunity.
He kept going over the visual image of her beautiful face in his mind. He couldn’t let her slip through his fingers again. He had to prove to her how much he needed her. He hadn’t even realized it himself until it was too late.
How could he have fucked everything up so monumentally? He had given her a key to his house in the hopes that he could earn her trust back after the Meghan incident. Then, less than twenty-four hours later, he had found a way to crush her dreams of a future.
How could he have anticipated that Christy would have broken into his house and snuck into his bed in the middle of the night? More importantly, how had he slept through it without hearing her come in? He’d been so exhausted; he’d slept through the entire thing.
He clenched his jaw as he felt the bitternes
s of frustration and animosity building in his gut. Resentment for his ex was going to consume him if he let it. If he lost Abigail, it would be really easy to make Christy the scapegoat. She was to blame, pure and simple. But, so was he for being too stupid to get rid of her years ago before it could get this far. He thought he could just shut her out and she’d fade away like the rest of his past. He’d been too eager to change his life to focus on cutting all ties with her for good. He should have gotten a restraining order a long time ago.
He looked at the ground and ran a hand absentmindedly through his hair as he listened to the sounds of traffic humming down the busy Chicago streets. He hated this fucking waiting. He hated that paparazzi could pounce on him at any time. He hated that Abigail was hurting so much. Restless, he paced up and down the block, keeping a close eye on the coffee shop in case she wandered in. After about half an hour of pacing, he was about to lose his mind. He glanced up, and his heart caught in his throat. Abigail was walking toward him. She looked ethereal in a stark white shirt and a pair of khaki pants. She tied a square green apron around her waist as she walked, not even noticing him.
And then she looked up, and her movements froze as she went statue-still in the middle of the sidewalk. Lucas jogged up to her.
“Abigail...” he trailed off. His voice sounded tortured, even to himself. “Give me five minutes.”
Abigail stared up at him with her wide, gorgeous eyes. She appeared startled, shocked to see him even. Her face paled as she stood there, simply staring at him. He frowned; concerned that he was frightening her in some way. Putting his hands up, palms out, he stopped a good two feet from her, wanting it to be closer but knowing that he shouldn’t.
“Please,” Lucas said. “Just let me talk to you. Even if it’s only for a few minutes. I just want to explain everything to you.”
Abigail’s features twisted into grief. He could see the gears working in her mind. She was torn, conflicted. He knew that look. He had seen it before in other women. He didn’t want to be that type of guy with the heartbreaker image. He wasn’t soft, but he wasn’t hard either. He knew when he had done something wrong, and he wasn’t above owning up to his mistakes. He just wished that Abigail would give him a chance to explain that to her.
Abigail looked like she wanted to cry. She glanced down the busy street and then back to Lucas.
“You know I won’t hurt you,” he said in a reassuring, gentle tone.
He tried to reach for her hand, but she jerked it away. “No.” Her eyes flooded with tears that reflected in shimmering hurt and betrayal. “No, I don’t know that.”
“Let me tell you what happened,” he urged.
“I already know what happened,” Abigail lashed out. “I know what I saw.” It was one thing with Meghan. I could let that go because it was purely accidental, or at least, that was what it seemed like on the surface.”
“It was an accident,” Lucas said. “On both fronts.”
“But the woman in your bed...” Abigail trailed off. She grimaced, her features contorting into disgust.
“I didn’t want her there,” Lucas insisted. He leaned closer to her, reaching for her hand again but she still wouldn’t let him grasp it.
“Stop it, Lucas,” she said in a snappy tone. “I just...” she looked over her shoulder and huffed before glancing back in his direction. She wouldn’t meet his gaze until now. Her eyes burned through his soul. He yearned to take her in his arms and make desperate, urgent need to her.
“You just...what?” He asked. He felt like his mind might explode. He was on pins and needles.
“I can’t deal with this right now.” She began to fidget as if she were torn between staying and letting him plead his case and running straight for the hills. “I have to get to work.”
Her eyes darted nervously between him and the front entrance door leading into the shop.
“I don’t care about the woman who was in my bed,” Lucas said. Even saying the words out loud sounded damning. He didn’t want another woman in his bed. He only wanted her. Her face was so full of doubt that this whole thing seemed insurmountable. And the reality of that flamed the panic inside him.
“I just want to make things right with you,” he pleaded. “Just give me a chance to tell you that it wasn’t anything like what you saw. The reality is much different, I promise.”
He took her hand, and for a moment, she didn’t squirm away. His heart leaped with fresh hope, but it was short-lived.
Only seconds later, she pulled away. “I can’t.” She shook her head and tears brimmed in her eyes once again. She shook her head, and her features were shadowed in grief. “I’m sorry...” she trailed off in a whisper.
She turned her back towards him. It was gut-wrenching as he watched her walk away. He felt like his mind was shattering with distress.
“If you change your mind,” he called out to her as a last ditched effort to grab her attention before she went inside the building, “please call me. I will always be around. I’ll always answer for you.”
She glanced at him over her shoulder. Her eyes looked guarded as if she had already barricaded her emotions by an invisible shield. She pulled the door to the coffee shop open and emerged inside. After a few seconds, she was gone.
Lucas stood there for several minutes, debating what to do next. He shoved his hands in his pockets and walked down the sidewalk. He debated going inside and trying to talk to her there, but it was her place of work, and he didn’t want to be that guy. He wouldn’t put her employment in jeopardy.
All he could do was hope she’d call him. He’d give it some time, and then he’d try again.
Realization hit him. He’d never stop trying. Not as long as there was a slim chance that she’d listen. He’d wait for her to make the first move would wait however long it took if it meant he might get a second chance with her.
Chapter Eighteen
ABIGAIL TRIED TO CONCEAL her shaking hands as she walked to the back of the coffee shop. She shoved them into the pockets of her apron after tying the string around her waist. She approached the wall outside of their manager’s office.
There was a computer screen attached to the wall where the hourly employees clocked in and out.
“Hey, Abigail.”
Abigail glanced up and saw Rory, one of her coworkers, peering up at her with a friendly smile through wide-rimmed glasses. Rory fit the description of a gamer type. Abigail didn’t like to give people labels, but Rory was a nerd. She always wore her hair in a ponytail and dressed like a tomboy most of the time in t-shirts and jeans.
“Hey.” Abigail nodded in greeting and did her best to remain poised and cordial.
She glanced at the front entrance to the store where there were boutique style windows overlooking the street. She didn’t see any sign of Lucas, and he didn’t walk by. Abigail found herself being a combination of both disappointed and relieved.
“How is it going today?”
“Uh...what?” Abigail ran a hand through her hair and looked blankly at Rory. “Sorry,” she chuckled. “I guess I’m a little um...tired today.” She held her tongue to keep herself from saying she was distracted.
Abigail could curse the stars for putting Rory on the same shift as her, especially on a day like this. Under normal circumstances, she was a little needy and always appeared to be desperate for conversation and human contact. Abigail didn’t know much about her other than the fact that she still lived at home with her parents a few blocks away, and that she didn’t have a boyfriend or any siblings. Rory was probably just lonely.
Abigail was certainly empathetic to that, but at the same time, she wanted to keep her personal life under wraps. She always remained pleasant at work, but she preferred to keep to herself and didn’t have an ounce of interest in becoming best friends with any of her coworkers. Once she stepped out of the work environment, she wanted to decompress and forget about everything involved with making coffee and waiting on feisty customers.
R
ory always found a way to burrow herself into Abigail’s business though, and Abigail was worried that although Rory was innocent enough in her efforts to become Abigail’s friend, that she would somehow catch on that something was bothering Abigail and wouldn’t stop pestering her until she caved and confessed what was on her mind.
“I asked how it was going today?” Rory smiled and gave Abigail a sideways look as if trying to inspect her for issues.
Abigail took a deep breath and punched in her employee number into the screen on the wall. She was officially clocked in.
“I’m good.” She tried to appear casual as she walked to the front counter of the shop. “No complaints.” She didn’t know why she tacked on that little white lie.
One of their older coworkers, Ned, was behind the register. There was a second register on the other side of the counter, but the owners of the shop only wanted them to use it when they were extremely busy.
Seeing that the register was already being handled and there weren’t many customers waiting to be served, Abigail wandered back down the short hallway and picked up a container of disposable cups and lids from one of the shelves.
She walked back to the counter where the registers were and began absentmindedly placing the cups into their respective containers for easy access. The espresso machine hissed behind them.
Alex, the barista was standing at the counter behind them brewing up a hot beverage for a customer. He had red, shoulder length curly hair and freckles all over his body. He was a hippie of sorts, and always rode his skateboard to work.
“Hey,” he said and nudged his chin in Abigail’s direction in greeting.
“Hey Alex,” she said with a smile.
She wished that she could just switch off her mind, but Alex wasn’t as savvy as reading people’s thoughts as Rory was. He was laid back. He just did the work and went home with no questions asked.
“Do you need any help?”
Abigail jumped an inch or so, startled when Rory walked up behind her.