Crush (23 page)

“Can I ask why you haven’t told Jude yet?”

“I don’t really know,” I said. “I’m scared to tell him, I guess. I’m scared of what his reaction will be. I’m scared that his feelings might change. I’m scared that he might not be ready to be a dad yet. I’m scared he won’t want some fat college dropout when he’s . . .” I waved down at the field, where kickoff was getting under way. “Everything he is.”

Sybill sighed while I shed a few tears. When we should have been on our feet cheering, we were curled around each other, one trying to hold the other together.

“I know what it’s like to be scared, Lucy. God knows I know,” she said, watching the field with me. “I’m going to tell you a story. It’s no fairy tale, but it has a happy ending. And I’m something of an expert on it, since it’s my story.” She paused and took a sip of her soda. “Deon and I met when we were in college. Lord, I loved that man the moment I saw him, but . . . he didn’t exactly see me. Not at first, anyways,” she said, laughing to herself. “One night we were both at the same party and, thanks to my cousin lending me a teeny little dress and showing me what mascara was, Deon and I wound up dancing. After a few dances, we were kissing. And after what felt like a few hours of kissing, we were losing clothes and looking for an empty bedroom. We had sex that night. It was my first time, and I was kind of horrified the next morning that it had been with some guy I barely knew during a drunken, wild party.”

She was right: This definitely wasn’t sounding like a fairy tale, but I loved it. I loved her story. I loved the way her voice was all soft when she told it.

“I made it my mission to avoid Deon at all costs after I woke up that morning. And it worked. For all of a day.” She laughed. “That boy went on a crusade asking anyone in passing if they knew the girl he’d been with the night before. Of course, very few in his inner circle did, because I was a loser to their elite status. He’d surreptitiously “run into” my cousin at the cafeteria that night, and she gave him my phone number, what dorm I lived in, my birthday. Hell, practically everything but my social security number. So he shows up at my door, flowers in hand, with those huge puppy-dog eyes of his, begging me to let him take me out on a date. A
real
date.”

I was starting to smile at this point. God, this story was different from, yet the same as, mine and Jude’s.

“So we went out on that first date, and a second and a third. We started spending every free minute we had together. It was something I knew was special, something I knew was meant to last forever. Two months later Deon got drafted. We were ecstatic, and he proposed to me that same day. I was living every girl’s dream, as far as I was concerned, and then I found out I was pregnant.”

Yep. This was
very
similar to Jude’s and my story. So much so that I almost pinched myself to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.

“I was sure Deon was going to leave me. Why would he want to be strapped to a quirky pregnant girl when he’d just signed a huge NFL contract? I didn’t tell him at first. I didn’t want the fairy tale to end. I didn’t tell him until I started to show. I remember being so scared I almost passed out.” A few more tears leaked out of my eyes. “I told him the night after his first game. I even had a good-bye all ready to go. And you know what he said right after I told him? What the first words out of his mouth were when I told him his nineteen-year-old girlfriend he’d been with for five months was pregnant?” Sybill must have started crying along the way, too, because I felt a tear land on my forehead. “He said, ‘I always wanted a big family. I guess it’s a good thing we got started early.’” She shook her head and laughed. “Then he told me he loved me and we got married a whole month later. And, ten years and four kids later, the rest is history,” she said, sweeping her hand down at the field.

“Did you have to drop out of school?” I asked, realizing Sybill was the best possible person I could turn to for advice.

“I dropped out of school because I wanted to be with Deon and spend time with the baby. But I was able to take online courses and managed to get my degree along the way.”

“Do you ever regret it?” I whispered. “Getting pregnant? Dropping out? Giving up on your dreams?”

“Not one single day,” she said. “I’ve never regretted any of it. I don’t live with regret, Lucy. It’s poison. Did I mourn for certain things I felt I missed out on? Hell yes, I did. But if I stacked up everything I feel I missed out on and compared it to everything I gained along the way, there’s a teeny-tiny pile of what-could-have-been standing in the shadow of a never-ending tower of what-has-beens.”

I was no longer crying an occasional tear. I was a sobbing, hot mess.

“Yes, I’ve missed out on things. But that’s life, Lucy. It’s what I
haven’t
missed out on that counts in my book. When I look at my family’s faces, I know I wouldn’t change a damn thing if I had the choice.”

“So you’re saying I should keep the baby, tell Jude, and we should raise it together?” I asked in between sobs. I wasn’t sure if anyone had noticed the bawling girl in the corner, and I wouldn’t have cared at this point.

“No, I’m not saying that. You’re the only one who can make those decisions,” she said, “but I know when you’re ready to make them, you’ll make the right decisions for you.”

I didn’t know who or which divine entity had brought Sybill up to the skybox tonight, but I was thanking whatever it was. I felt about a million times better and a thousand pounds lighter. I didn’t have the answers yet, but I wasn’t terrified of them anymore.

“Thank you, Sybill,” I said, wiping my eyes with the back of my arm. “I mentioned I loved you earlier, right?”

“You’re welcome, baby girl,” she said, giving my shoulders one more squeeze before rising. “And I’m sending a whole lot of love right back at you. Now I really got to get to my mama before she has a nervous breakdown, but if you ever want to talk, just give me a ring, okay?”

I nodded. “Okay.”

“You good?” she said, looking around the room. The game had started, and still no one was watching. The mercy was that no one was watching me either.

“Yeah, I’m good.” For the first time this week, it was the only time I’d answered this question without lying.

“I expect to see you down with us at the next game. You got it?” she said, grabbing another cola as she headed for the door. “I need all the help I can get.”

“I’ll be there,” I said, “and I’m pretty darn good with kiddos.”

Sybill gave me a knowing smile. “I can picture that, Lucy Larson. I can picture that.” She flashed a wave before heading out.

Everyone was still busy talking about whatever was so important that they couldn’t interrupt themselves to watch the football game, and, while they were all clustered around the food table, no one was eating anything.

My stomach rumbled. Crackers and soda were not an especially filling diet. For the first time this week, I had a craving when my eyes landed on the fruit bowl. I knew I might regret it, but I wanted an apple. Popping up, I weaved through a few bodies to get to my coveted apple. I made my way back to my seat just as Jude was taking the field.

I forgot about the apple. I forgot about everything but him crouching into position. It didn’t seem possible that four years ago he’d been a reluctant walk-on high school player, and here he was, about to make his first play in the big league.

I reminded myself to breathe.

The center hiked; Jude caught it effortlessly and stalled for a couple seconds, giving his receivers time to get into position. His arm snapped back and when he released that ball, I started shouting. Cheering my head off. It had a good few seconds of hang time, but I knew it would land right where Jude intended it to land. I’d watched enough games of his to know he rarely, if ever, missed his mark.

When the ball landed in the receiver’s arms at the twenty, I cheered louder still. I was the only one cheering—I was the only one making loud noise—but I wasn’t worried about it. Jude had just thrown his first pass in the NFL—a guy who had goals only of staying out of prison back in high school, and here he was now, living the dream, being watched and celebrated by millions around the country.

Another tear dripped from my eye. While he’d turned into a football god, I’d turned into an emotional sap.

When I stopped cheering long enough to catch my breath, I felt all the eyes in the room on me. “Did you see that?” I asked the collective bunch, waving at the field.

I didn’t wait for an answer. I had a game to watch.

I didn’t stop cheering, because I knew I’d never conform to whatever this Emerald City standard was, and what mattered more to me was that I never wanted to.

EIGHTEEN

I
was sitting next to the most talked-about man in the country tonight. After completing four touchdown passes, not throwing a single interception during the entire game, and leading his team to a win that the analysts said would take a miracle of the raising-the-dead quality, Jude Ryder had proven himself ten times over in his first NFL game. He’d become a national hero today, yet he still draped his arm over me as we headed to the airport in his POS truck like he was the same old bad boy of Southpointe High.

I was exhausted, but it had been so worth it to make the grueling one-day journey, and I knew it meant a lot to Jude. Mainly because he hadn’t stopped telling me it had.

“Did I tell you yet how proud I am of you?” I said, wishing all those lights in the near distance weren’t the airport.

“Only five minutes ago.” His arm tightened around me. “Thanks for coming. It’s just not the same when you’re not there to watch me play, Luce.”

“It means a lot to me, too.”

“Are you still on for two weeks from now? We’ve got a bye-week next weekend, but we’ve got another home game the following.”

“I’ll be there,” I said, thinking this would be the opportunity I’d use to tell Jude about being pregnant. I didn’t want to do it over the phone, and I wasn’t quite ready to tell him today. Even if I was ready, there was literally no time. When we pulled into the airport, I’d be lucky to have a whole ten minutes before I had to start making my way to my gate. This was news I didn’t want to rush. I didn’t want to feel like I was racing the clock to get it out. I wanted a whole day if we needed it, to talk things out, or to say nothing at all and just be with each other while we processed the detour our lives were taking.

“And you’ll be able to be here for the whole weekend, right?”

“The whole weekend,” I said, as Jude pulled into the parking garage.

“I’m so sick of saying good-bye to you, Luce,” he said, thumping his palm on the steering wheel. “I’m sick of crawling into a cold bed, and I’m sick of texting you more than talking with you. I miss you.”

I was exhausted, and pregnant. And emotional.

His words made me weepy instantly.

“I’m sick of it, too,” I said, keeping my head tucked against his shoulder so he wouldn’t see my tears.

“I’ve got a solution to that, you know. To both of us being sick of being apart,” he said, sounding hesitant.

“What? Me pick up and move out here with you and get hitched?” I said, not really having to guess this was where his mind was at.

He nodded against my head. “I’d do it for you if I could.” And now his voice sounded sad.

“But I’d never ask you to,” I replied. “You’ve got commitments and I’ve got commitments. It just sucks that our commitments have to be on opposite sides of the country.”

His face nudged mine. He wanted me to look at him, but I couldn’t. I had to put a stopper on these damn tears before he saw them. “My number-one commitment is you, Luce.”

“I know,” I said, wiping my eyes with my arm. “What are you asking me to do, Jude? I get that I’m your number- one priority, but I also get that you signed a contract with a little franchise called the San Diego Chargers.”

“That’s right, I do have a contract. For three years. If at the end of that, you want me to quit so we can spend the next thirty moving from one dance mecca to the next, that’s what I’ll do.”

I blew out a slow breath. “You’d do that? Give up your dream so I could have mine?”

“Baby, football isn’t my dream,” he said, kissing my forehead. “
You
are.”

Uh-oh. Choking sobs on the horizon.

“Don’t get me wrong; I love football. A lot. But I can’t even compare it to you, because there’s nothing to compare. I signed the contract because I’m good at it, and I’ll make so much damn money in three years we’ll be set for life, and you can dance across any and every stage you want and not have to ever worry about money.”

I knew I should get going, but I couldn’t leave. I was tired of leaving him. “Three years of football. Then three years of dance. So on and so forth. Is that what you’re proposing?”

“I’m proposing three years of football and you can have the rest of our years together dancing if that’s what you want,” he said.

“What if we want to start a family sometime along the way?” I asked, seeing my segue and taking it for a spin. “How does a baby factor into our three-years-on, three-years-off schedule?”

His body relaxed against me. “I can’t wait for the day we have kids, Luce, because you’re going to make me the most beautiful little babies ever, but we’re still so young.” The smile that was forming on my face faltered. “We’re barely twenty-one. We’ve got a whole decade ahead of us before we need to start worrying about popping a couple kiddos out. We’ve got time, so let’s use it,” he said, trying to turn his face so he could see mine. “Okay?”

I answered him with a nod, because I didn’t trust myself to talk.

“Luce?” he said with concern when he caught a glimpse of my face. “Are you all right?” He twisted in his seat and held my face so I couldn’t turn it away.

“Yeah,” I said, sounding as upset as I thought I would. “I’m just tired.”

“Then why does it look like you’re crying?” he asked, sliding his thumb over my cheek.

“Because I get all teary when I’m tired.”

He made a face. “Since when?”

“Since now,” I said, needing out of this truck, and not just because I had to get to my flight. I knew that if Jude didn’t back down and kept up with the grand inquisition, I was going to cave and tell him the big news. The big news he’d just admitted to not being ready for and not wanting for another ten years. How could I tell a man who thought he’d have a solid decade to get used to the idea of fathering a child that we were about to have one in a little less than six months?

The answer was, I couldn’t tell him. Not right now. Not with those words so fresh in my mind.

“What’s the matter?” Jude’s face shadowed as he watched me. “Talk to me, Luce.”

I looked down, unable to stare at those tortured eyes any longer. “I can’t. Not right now,” I said. “Soon.”

He huffed. “I’ve been hearing that word
soon
from you for three years now. I think your definition and mine are different.”

I didn’t have three years. I didn’t even have three months. My
soon
, in this case, would be his soon.

“Soon,” I said. “I promise.”

“I won’t hold my breath,” he said with a sigh.

I bit my lip. “I’ve got to get going.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. It’s the story of our lives,” he said, studying me like he was trying to see inside me. “I know you’re tired and need to catch your flight and don’t want to talk about whatever’s bothering you, but after a good night’s sleep you’ll feel better. I want you to call me anytime, Luce, anytime. I don’t care if I’m in the middle of practice or asleep or in the shower; I’ll answer. Just call me. Tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after that, whenever you’re feeling better, and we’ll talk this over. We’ll work this out the way we always do.” He paused and waited.

“Okay, Luce? We’ll work this out. Everything will be fine,” he said, pulling me back into his arms. “Just call me and we’ll figure this thing out together.”

I hugged him back—I couldn’t seem to hold him hard enough—but I never made that call the next day, or the day after that, or even the day after that.

Another week down, one week closer to D-day, as Holly and I had deemed it. Jude and I had talked every day, but we never had “the talk.” I pretended everything was fine and dodged his probing questions, but I knew I hadn’t fooled him. I was even avoiding my parents’ calls, because how could I talk about school and dance when I was keeping the secret that I was in my second trimester from them?

So when Anton asked if I’d be able to work Saturday, I’d said yes without a second thought. When I was at school or work, my mind was distracted just enough for me to pretend my life wasn’t spiraling out of control. Anton had found a new full-time admin once I’d gone back to school, but I still worked a Saturday or Sunday most weekends. There was always some report that needed to be filled out or completed or started. There was always a presentation that needed to be put together, and Anton not only didn’t have a problem with letting me work a flexible schedule, he encouraged it. It didn’t matter if I showed up early or late, Saturday or Sunday, the guy was always there. I was starting to wonder if he lived at the office.

Today, Thomas had been free to watch LJ while Holly was at work, so I’d showed up at Xavier Industries at eight a.m. I hadn’t lifted my head from the computer once when Anton stepped out of his office later that afternoon.

“Thanks again for helping today, Lucy,” he said, dropping a bottle of water on my desk. “It’s amazing how much more I can get done when I don’t have someone ducking their head in my office every two seconds.”

“No problem,” I said, saving the report I’d been working on the past couple hours before powering off my computer. It was getting late, and I’d promised to pick up dinner for everyone tonight.

“How have you been lately?” Anton asked with a serious expression. “India tells me you’ve been missing a lot of class.”

Traitor. No dessert for her next Friday night.

“I’m good,” I said with a shrug. “Just going through a bit of a life funk.”

“Is Jude responsible for this funk?” he said, leaning into my desk.

A flash of anger. It had been so long since I’d felt it, I welcomed it. Like a long-lost friend coming home for a visit. “Let me respond to that with a two-part answer,” I said, crossing my arms. “None of your business. And none of your business.” Jumping up, I grabbed my purse and headed for the coatrack to grab my jacket. I wanted out of here before Anton got warmed up.

“I make you uncomfortable.”

I huffed. “Doesn’t exactly qualify as the revelation of the year.”

Anton chuckled. Infuriating. “Well, maybe this will,” he said, coming toward me. “I know why I make you uncomfortable.”

“I know why, too,” I said, looking him up and down. “Everything. The whole Anton Xavier package makes me uncomfortable.”

Super. I’d just mentioned Anton and
package
in the same sentence, and the twisted SOB hadn’t missed it either. One side of his mouth was already lifting.

“I make you uncomfortable because some part of you likes me. Some part of you is attracted to me and that pisses you off. Some part of you knows that if you weren’t with him, you and I would be together.” He said this all without a bit of remorse, not even shame.

I was getting upset. More upset. I wasn’t sure if it was because of how wrong he was or how right he was. It was all very confusing.

“Maybe,” I said with a lazy shrug. “But that’s the answer to every question in the universe. Maybe. Maybe you and I might have hooked up in some alternate reality where there was no Jude, but that’s not the case. There is a Jude. And I’m in love with him.” I was getting worked up, just shy of a shout. I held up my left hand, flashing the ring in front of him. “And we’re getting married.”

Anton stuffed his hands in his pockets. “When?”

“Soon.” I grimaced at my word choice. He noticed that too.

“How long have you been engaged?” Still the picture of calm.

“Three years.”

He took a step toward me; I took a step back. “What are you waiting for?”

Why hadn’t I stuck with the whole none-of-your-business approach? “To graduate college.”

“No, I don’t think that’s it,” he said confidently. “I think you’re waiting because you’re unsure. Something’s telling you this man is not the right one for you, and you can’t kill that voice.”

“Wow, good one,” I said, clapping my hands. “And the Delusional Award goes to . . .” I stopped clapping to sweep my hands dramatically at him.

The more I got worked up, the cooler he seemed. Nothing I said or did could tip his calm scale.

“You say we could never be together, but that’s just because you’ve never even opened yourself up to the idea.” He took another step toward me and this time, when I took a step back, I was up against a wall.

Fitting.

“I don’t want to open myself up to that idea,” I said, warning him with my eyes. Warning him not to take another step closer.

He didn’t heed that warning. “Then I’m going to help you.”

Before I had time to process his intention, his lips were on mine, his hands following. Though his mouth was unyielding, his hands dropped gently to my waist and stayed there.

I tried shoving him away immediately. It was a useless endeavor with Jude, but I at least managed to budge Anton, though not enough. His lips continued their assault on mine, like they were a drowning man begging for a lifeline, but I’d tossed my lifeline out a long time ago—to a different guy, and I’d never asked for or wanted it back. I knew that what Anton had said was partly true. The two of us very well could have ended up together had the world been Jude Ryder–less. But it wasn’t. Anton was the understudy to Jude. Anton was my what-might-have-been, but Jude was my was, is, and will be forever.

“Anton, stop,” I protested against his unrelenting lips.

Either he’d gone deaf or he was ignoring me. Neither would work for me.

Raising my hand, I slapped it hard across his cheek. “Stop it!”

The slap got his attention. Good thing, because my next move would have been a sharp knee to the groin.

When Anton loosened his grip on me just enough, I gave him another hard shove, pushing him back a few feet. “You’re an asshole. How’s that for an answer as to why we’re not together?” Shoving him in passing just because he deserved it, I marched toward the door. “And one more thing. I quit!”

I didn’t wait for a reply. I ran for the elevator, hoping I’d make it to the car before the last two minutes had caught up with me. As it was, I felt like I was hyperventilating.

What Anton had said might have been true, but none of it mattered. I was with Jude. I wanted Jude. There was no Anton and Lucy when I’d given my heart to Jude Ryder four years ago.

I had no doubts that if you plugged Anton and me into a compatibility computer, we’d come out on the other end together. I knew that, but it didn’t change anything. His rubbing that in my face when my fiancé was across the country, while I was an emotional, hormonal wreck, was not what I needed right now.