I am in love with you.
So am I. I finally, finally admit it to myself in the tiniest internal voice. It’s damn scary—terrifying, really—almost as bad as the time I thought I’d lose Mia because she was born too small. My limbs shake, nausea churning in my belly.
You didn’t fight for him.
How can I? I swore I would never end up like my mom. And so many things Lucas has done remind me of the way Dad treated us.
Gifts. Emotional unavailability. Smooth talk and excuses about why he couldn’t be with us or spend any holidays together.
Of course, he was never available because he had a real home waiting—a three-story brick house with a two-car garage and a yard in one of the nicest and most expensive counties in the country. It’s a wonder he spent any time at the roach-infested one-bedroom apartment where Mom and I lived—except for the sex. I didn’t understand the moans, the slaps, the filthy things they said to each other until later…but now I wonder if maybe he couldn’t get the kind of kicks he wanted from his pricey suburban wife.
I am in love with you.
My hand clenches against my breastbone. What if he meant it…and you chose not to believe him because of what Dad did to Mom?
If he meant it, he would’ve never let me find out about the deal between him and his father that way.
But what if Lucas never found a good time to fess up, the way I never did about Mia? What if I’m the one who’s being prejudiced and rejecting him based on past experience? What if I didn’t hear what he was really trying to say?
Will I be able to live with myself if I unknowingly throw his love away? I’d crawl across an acre of barbed wire if that would give us the happiness we had at the bed and breakfast. There I felt like the center of his universe, the sole object of his love and regard. And he filled my vision, filled my heart, was only one I wanted to hold in my arms forever.
I bury my face in my hands and let out a soft sob. I’m no longer convinced of anything. I’m looking for a guarantee—that he truly, honest to God loves me and that he won’t hurt me…ever.
Except… I should know better. There are no guarantees in life. The only guarantee that we’re all going to die one day.
So why not seize what happiness you can while you’re alive?
Because it’s not that easy. Nothing’s that easy.
Crippling fear presses down on me, and I bite my lower lip until it’s numb with pain. I’ve never felt so lost.
Chapter Twenty-One
Lucas
The suite Rachel booked is…nice. I suppose.
It’s on the top floor, with large, sumptuously appointed rooms, expensive furniture and silky cotton sheets with stratospheric thread counts. There is also a white grand piano. Why the suite has one, I have no clue. It’s not like people book the place to play.
I flick my thumb over my phone, and it comes alive. I go to the photo app and browse the newly downloaded pictures. Me and Ava. Us at our happiest. When I thought nothing could tear us apart.
I shouldn’t have copied them to my phone, but I couldn’t stop myself from rummaging through Ava’s mobile. It was laughably easy to access, the passcode being her date of birth. I felt like the cliché creepy ex—checking the previous girlfriend’s phone to see who she’s been talking to, who she spends time with…who she might be banging, even though I made sure she’d be so overworked she wouldn’t have time for such things.
My justification is just as pathetic. I haven’t been able to stir myself for any woman. The least she can do is keep her thighs together until I feel my body come to life for someone else.
A tight lump forms in my throat. I want to go back in time.
You’re toxic.
I could demand a meeting, make her honor her bargain, try to convince her that…
That what? I’m not toxic?
I run a hand over my eyes. She won’t buy anything from me. She lies in the hospital because I made sure she had so much work she wouldn’t even have time to pee without worrying about finishing all her tasks.
If I thought I could change her mind about the two of us, I’d do anything. But the test and her words made it clear I’m out of options. I grasp the back of a chair and hang my head. I’d give all my money to invent some kind of X-ray that could show Ava what’s in my heart.
But…that’s just a fantasy. Here in reality, I need to stick to the plan. Marry Faye. That solves several problems. And she’ll understand why I’m not banging her if I make up some bullshit story about leg pain or something.