KEPT: A Second Chance Fairy Tale (45 page)

Michael

“I don’t know what to say,” Lucy breathes in relief once we’ve filed out of the conference room with Jane.

“Honey, I think you just say ‘thanks’,” Jane replies, placing her hand on Lucy’s. I watch as she squeezes it gently, attempting to gain Lucy’s attention.

Lucy hasn’t taken her eyes off me since Jackson called the meeting over and openly humiliated Margret as he told her to find another lawyer, wishing her luck in hell.

“Michael,” Jane addresses. I turn my head and look down at her standing proudly by my side. I can feel Lucy’s eyes on me. “I’m headed back to the office. I’ll file and record all this nonsense in case it’s needed later. I’ll see you back there this afternoon?”

“Yeah, I’ll be in after this.”

Jane leans in to give Lucy a hug. She whispers something in her ear, and Lucy’s eyes water in response. Still, though, they’ve never moved off me.

“Michael.” Jane nods her goodbye before turning to walk away.

I’m left alone standing in front of Lucy. Her face is flushed, her relief evident now that the meeting is over.

“You’re good,” I offer. “If she bothers you again, let me know. Or Corbin.”

I’m not sure of the thoughts circling Lucy’s mind. I did this not only for her, but because I was right in saying Margret is a piece of shit. I took satisfaction in threatening her the way I did because, whether it’s professional to feel this way or not, the bitch needs to be put down.

“When you got here…” She pauses and her voice goes quiet. “I was happy to see you.” A spring of hope surfaces in my chest. “I wasn’t sure how it was going until you–”

“Lucy,” I say her name, hearing my voice beginning to break. My body wants to surrender to her close proximity. I want to hold her, but my heart knows it’s best to give her space. “I wouldn’t have missed this meeting for anything.”

“She’s awful,” she tells me with a half-smile. “I can’t believe I was married to her son.”

I offer her a small grin, if only to ease the tension between us. She’s filling the air with small talk when I’d like nothing more than to fill it with words letting her know how much I’ve missed her. How miserable I am that the smell of her in my bed has faded. How I no longer feel her strong presence even when I’m alone. How much she matters.

I want to tell her how much I need her.

Lucy smirks, the amusement in her eyes pointedly obvious before she whispers for no one else to hear, “You called Margret Monroe ‘Cruella’.” She holds in her laugh, but only for a second.

In my defense, I state, “I’m not entirely oblivious to those movies you and Grace love so much.”

Lucy’s head tilts to the side. “How is Grace?” she asks. “Deni and your mom?”

“Good,” I return. “Mom’s doing well. Grace is driving Denise crazy, which I love to hear.”

“Right.” She nods with a short smile, and awkward silence engulfing us.

“How’s Dillon?”

Lucy nods. “Good. He’s getting ready for school to start. He asked me to find him a baseball coach so he could start playing this fall.”

I imagine Dillon’s face, along with the persistence he inherited from his mother. Most likely, he stopped asking and is walking the line of nagging by now.

“I need to run,” I reluctantly inform. “Corbin’s in court, and Lillie’s pitching fits about working long hours.”

Lucy’s nose scrunches. “Lillie’s back at the office?”

“She is. She came back when she heard…”

“Heard I quit.”

“With Jane coming on board, we need the extra help.”

“Jane’s there now, too?” she asks.

Her curiosity is piqued. Maybe she holds some regret about her decision to leave, as well. She misses the office. She misses those who’ve grown to care about her as we have.

“Okay, go,” she instructs. “Thank you for everything.”

I sense her sincere gratitude extends further than today. I don’t prod her to say more, fearing if we get into a discussion here, it won’t end as I’d want it to.

“Never a problem for you, Lucy. Whatever you need.”

Boldly, knowing I’m already walking on the edge of heartbreak, I lean down and kiss her cheek. When she doesn’t pull away, my lips linger a moment longer than I expected her to let them. The only hesitation I sense is her heavy sigh when it’s time to step back.

“Be good,” I insist. “And tell Dillon I said hello.” Without looking at her, I turn to walk away.

Lucy

Michael 06:31 p.m.
Running late. Marcus will pick you up and I’ll meet you there.

B
ITING MY LIP, TRYING SO
hard not to allow the flutters of hope and anticipation to grow more after hearing from him, I shake my head and brainstorm a quick reply unnerve him. It’s fair, considering it’s always been so easy for him to mess with me.

06:32 p.m.
Maybe I’ve changed my mind. Maybe you being late is a sign that this is a bad idea.

His return text is immediate.

Michael 06:32 p.m.
Lucy
…

It may only be a one-word response, but it’s one I feel everywhere. I’ve pushed the broody man, whom I agreed to meet for a drink, to the point of frustration. I suck in a quick breath to congratulate myself in playing him with such little effort before following up on my prior text.

06:33 p.m.
Have a nice life, Michael.

After he left me standing alone outside Jackson Will’s office three days ago, everything I was once so angry with him for disappeared.

Michael didn’t have an extramarital affair. His wife did.

Michael didn’t betray my trust in my own marriage. Gabe did.

Michael certainly never intentionally hurt me by trying to take my son away. The evil queen did.

And Michael didn’t set out for me to fall in love with him. This blame I take completely on myself.

Michael tried to protect me from the hurt he knew I’d feel in finding out that our trusted spouses were leaving us for each other. Although I still may not agree with all his decisions, specifically paving my way financially until I was able to get on my own feet, he did this with the same kindness and compassion I fell in love with.

How could I honestly use those very traits I’ve come to hold so dear against him when those are the very reasons I don’t want to imagine another day without him being a part of my life? He’s good for me. And for Dillon.

The answer came at once. I couldn’t.

It took all of one hour before racing home to call Shannan, begging her for advice. Her exact words were, “Play it cool, Lucy Loo. Listen to all he has to say before you agree or disagree to anything, including accepting your job back.”

Now I sit on my couch as my crazy mother continues dissecting my reaction while I wait for another text from Michael.

“I don’t understand,” she pouts. “You’ve been seeing this man for how long? And I’m just now finding out about him?”

I’ve intentionally kept my mother out of the loop with the Michael mess. Although I adore her, even more so now after being in the company of Gabe’s mother again, I didn’t want her involved.

My mom isn’t a person I seek out for advice. More times than not, she asks me about why men act as they do. It’s the blind leading the blind between us, so talking about the men in our lives has never worked out the way other mother/daughter relationships have.

“Mom, I told you. It’s complicated.”

“Famous last words,” she mutters. “Do I get to meet him soon, at least?”

I thought maybe she would but, judging by the text, it won’t be tonight.

“Soon,” I reply. “I promise.”

I shouldn’t be so certain she’ll ever have the chance to meet him. All of this depends on how the evening turns out.

When I finally won the battle of my nerves and called Michael to see if there was still a position open at the firm, he was hesitant to answer, refusing to do so over the phone. I really wanted to ask if there was still room for me in his heart, but feared his response wouldn’t be as I’d hoped. I’d pushed him away, hurt him by leaving. I feared he hated me for making my decision and leaving him without any power to change it.

Instead, as he always does, Michael soothed my worry by asking me to talk over dinner.

Apparently, one for which he’ll be late for.

“Dillon told me he’s been to a Yankees game with Michael,” Mom pouts again. She won’t let this go. “How is it he’s been to a ballgame with this man, yet–”

“Please, Mom,” I beg. “Give it a rest.”

She purses her lips and nods once.

The phone at my side rings, the caller ID displaying the contact name ‘Beast’, as the theme from the animated movie plays loudly into the room. My mother’s eyes come to mine with suspicion, so I grab the phone, leaving her at the table and Dillon on the couch, and make my way out the front door.

“Lucy,” Michael snaps just as I’m about to say hello. “I’ve got two minutes before I need to get back to the meeting I just walked out of.”

He was in a meeting.
Shit
.
Wait…

“Why are you texting me if you’re in a meeting?”

Ignoring me completely, he instructs, “Marcus will pick you up, you’ll meet me at the restaurant, we’ll talk about what’s open for you here, then we’ll eat.”

Ever impossibly in control.

“You left a meeting to call me?” I question, hoping he really didn’t do this only because I felt like playing. Suddenly, I feel small.

I hear him inhale, then wait for a second. “Did you not just tell me to have a nice life?”

“Well, yeah, but–”

“You said this was a bad idea.”

“Well, I–”

“She’s driving me fucking nuts,” he tells himself.

I bite down on my lip to keep from saying anything. He can’t see me, and I’m doing all I can to hide the smile in my whisper. “I’ll see you later.”

“You will,” he confirms. “Now, can I go back to work?”

“Yes.”

“See you tonight.”

“Tonight,” I agree.

Michael

When I find Lucy sitting in the corner booth of the restaurant she told Marcus to bring her to, she looks up and smiles. She’s wearing the same dress she wore the night of her celebratory one-month anniversary. So little time has passed since then, yet so much has changed.

“Hi,” she greets quietly, giving me a small wave.

When I look down at the table and to what she’s drinking, I ask, “You’re drinking water tonight?”

Lucy nods, then pushes it away, seemingly embarrassed. “This is a business dinner, isn’t it? I didn’t think…”

Before she can continue reasoning with her own excuse, I turn to catch the waiter walking by and order a glass of white wine for us both.

Unbuttoning my jacket and intentionally choosing the seat across from Lucy, rather than at her side, I start with what I have to say in order to get the formal conversation over. “The job is still yours if you want it.”

Lucy nods, but gives nothing else away. All the way here, I wondered if by my attending the meeting with Margret, and it turning out in her favor as it did, she had changed her mind about not wanting to know me as she once claimed.

I held out hope, yet when she called, my hopes were somewhat dashed as she was only interested in the job. I assume now that I’ll no longer be assisting her financially because she’s actively pursuing employment.

“Are you sure Lillie hasn’t changed her mind and decided to come back for good?”

That’s a definite no.

When I advised Lillie I was having dinner with Lucy’s potential replacement, the look on her face was sharp enough to cut glass. She was pissed because she expected, in some hopeful way, all this with Lucy and I would’ve surely been worked out before now. I was afraid to admit that I planned to beg Lucy to take back her position just in case things didn’t.

As the waiter sets the glasses in front of us, I keep my eyes on her. “I’m positive Lillie is ready to truly retire. She’s already tired of filling in for you. If you want the job, Lucy, it’s yours.”

“Corbin,” she breathes out. “I haven’t talked to him. None of this was his fault, and I–”

I lift my hand to stop her, cutting off her worrying. “Corbin thinks the world of you. How he feels was never in question.”

“Good.” She sighs and takes a drink.