The Love Series Complete Box Set (147 page)

By the time I get home, it’s well into the evening, and even though it’s early enough to call her, I use the excuse that Lucy is probably going to bed early because she has work tomorrow.

Spineless, chicken-shit is what I am.

But really, I’m just afraid that we’ll want two different things.

And then there’s the real crux of the issue: is this love?

Turning that idea over and over again in my mind, I get nowhere. Joe’s right—again. If I want to know what she wants, what she feels, I’m going to have to suck it up, act like a man, and just ask her.

Just not tonight.

After a quick meal and a hot shower, I flop into my bed instantly recognizing the cold emptiness in the space beside me where Lucy should be. In this moment of stark realization, it’s no longer fear that fills my thoughts over how easily Lucy and I have come together, over how quickly things have progressed. No, what fills my thoughts, and aches in my chest, is a painful, vacant feeling. Memories from no more than a few weeks ago flash through my brain, as I recall just how unemotional and desolate my life was before Lucy.

It was beige.

But, with her in my life, I have someone to hold, to protect, to laugh with and to love.

With her in my life, I have vivid colors to which I had been blind for so long.

Realizing I love her and growing enough balls to tell her are apparently two different things. After tossing and turning all night Sunday, I slept well past my normal wake up of six on Monday. Having just run a half-marathon over the weekend, I was more than fine with taking a day off. But without that motivation to get out of bed, I officially had nothing to do for the day. Getting things in order for Chloe’s dance helped keep me busy, but in the weeks following it, in the time that I’d managed to screw things up with Lucy, I hadn’t been able to find anything else to keep me busy.

As the hours of the day whittle away, I get more and more anxious thinking about calling Lucy. We haven’t talked since before the race—haven’t seen each other in more days than I want to count, so I can only imagine that she’s waiting for me to call her. The proverbial ball is in my court, at least according to the relationship rules I’ve gathered over the years.

But then again, Lucy defies all of those rules. The phone rings and an image of the two of us from the ball flashes on the home screen. I wonder if her ears are ringing as I sit here and thinking about nothing but her smiling face.

“Hi.” My voice sounds pathetic.

“Hey, I wasn’t sure if you were back yet. I hadn’t heard from you.” Her words sound wobbly and unsure, because of me—the asshat.

“Yeah, I got in last night. Sorry I didn’t call. I was beat.” It’s not entirely a lie, an omission of truth is more like it. And, I was beat, emotionally exhausted just thinking about everything going on with us.

A mumbled, “Oh” falls dejectedly from her lips. Travelling through the telephone line, it smacks me in the face. Hearing her upset, and completely at a loss for words, is not something I’m happy about and it’s something that’s entirely in my power to change.

“We need to talk, Lucy. There’s so much I want to say, but I don’t want to do it over the phone.” Huffing out a pent up breath of frustration over my own stupidity, I soften my tone, not wanting to imply that “we need to talk” for the wrong reasons. A bit more carefully, I add, “When can I see you?”

“I have plans with Linda tonight, and then there’s a PR event with Chloe’s family on Tuesday.” She sounds wounded, like she’s expecting me to see her to break things off. But there’s also a pissed-off air to her voice that makes me feel the weight of my mistake.

“Wednesday then?” Yes, I fully admit to there being more than a little begging loaded into that question, but I need to see her. I need to fix this.

“I’m not sure. Melanie is coming home Friday and I have a lot to do−”

“Lucy, I’m sorry for everything. Please let me see you so that I can explain. Please say that Wednesday works for you. Please stop making excuses and let me try and fix this.”

“I’m sorry, too. I just don’t know what to say.” Her voice takes on that wobbling quality again as if she’s trying to bite back her emotions.

“You don’t have to say a damn thing. Just hear me out. Please tell me you’ll see me. I know I’ve been an ass for avoiding you, but I need to see you.” When she doesn’t respond, the only sound filtering through the line is her sighs, I feel like I might be fighting a losing battle. “I miss you,” I add softly, hoping that she can hear the same emotion in my voice that she’s trying to suppress in her own.

“I miss you too. I’ll come over after work then, okay?”

“Absolutely, but I can come to you if you want. Whatever’s easier.”

“No, I’ll come to you.” She pauses briefly, and in that moment of silence, I know that so much goes unsaid − from both of us.

“You got it, love. See you then.”

The call ends and I feel slightly hopeful we might be able to figure this out.

The next forty-eight hours pass by in a blur. I do a lot of running, hoping that it’ll somehow clear my mind. It doesn’t. All I keep coming back to is that I love her and she needs to know that, no matter how she feels about me.

When my legs feel like jelly, I distract myself with cleaning the condo; not that there’s much to clean, and it just makes me realize how empty this place really is. Sure, Lucy’s house needs a lot of updating − the design is stuck somewhere in the early eighties − but, even despite the lack of updates, it’s still a home. No amount of fresh paint or new furniture could ever make this place feel like a home.

Sadly, just the sound of her softly knocking at the door makes my place feel warmer already. With my hand shaking above the doorknob, I take a deep steadying breath.

“Hey,” I fumble awkwardly at the greeting, not sure if I should kiss her.

“Hi,” she says cautiously as she steps into the open floor plan living area. The scent of her sweetness invades my senses as she takes off her coat. She looks for a place to hang it and then just folds it over her arm when she doesn’t see one.

“Here, let me take that. I don’t have many visitors,” I admit lamely as I drape her coat on the back of the sofa.

“It’s nice.” Lucy scans the room. Not that there’s much to see. It’s a total bachelor pad. Television on the wall, couches focused on it, a coffee table in between. There’s no extra lighting save the harsh fluorescents that are installed in the entire complex. The only real personal touch in the space is the paint, and even that doesn’t say much other than “I’m boring and bland” just like my beige-colored walls.

I blurt out a soft laugh at her nicety. “Sure it is, if you like minimalism to a fault.”

“It is kind of lackluster,” she admits. “Doesn’t look like you at all.” Maybe that’s because when I had to move up here, leave behind the only life I had ever known, I lost everything that made me who I am. I lost all sense of who I was, and then stumbling into Lucy’s life helped me find a small piece of who I hope to be.

“Listen, Lucy . . . I−” Her cold hand falling to my forearm stops my words.

“Can we sit?” She eyes the couch in front of us. “There are some things that I need to say and I don’t know if I can do them standing up.” Her words punch me in the gut. I’ve wasted two weeks − in almost complete radio silence − over something so fucking stupid. It’s my staying away that’s pissing her off, not this non-issue of kids.

I let her step in front of me, placing my hand on the small of her back. I try to ignore the feeling of her tensing under my hand, but I fail horribly. When we sit next to each other, Lucy is more than careful not to touch me, which hurts more than I want to say, because usually there’s not much space between us.

Knowing that I have to say something first, I stumble over my words, not sure of what the best starting point is. With Joe’s words of advice echoing in my head, I decide on clarity; we need to get right to the heart of the matter.

“I don’t want kids.” I let those words, said with brutal honesty, settle in before saying anything else.

Sitting silently beside me, she takes in my words, carefully rolling them around in her brain, I’m sure. “Good, neither do I,” she responds bluntly, but there’s still something there, some emotion simmering below the surface.

“Then what−”

She cuts me off and finishes my sentence at the same time. “Then why am I so upset?” I nod, feeling like a fool being scolded. “It’s easy, Evan. I’m upset because we lost out on two weeks because you couldn’t just tell me how you felt.” Her hands fly between us animatedly as her emotions rise.

“I−I wasn’t sure. I−I didn’t know,” I stammer.

“I get that.” She lets her flailing arms settle to her side. “I understand you didn’t know how I felt, but you also didn’t
ask.
” Her deep puff of frustration settles between us. “I don’t want kids either. I’ll go on the pill,” she says decidedly and her words settle the anxiety I’ve been feeling since this whole misunderstanding began.

She takes a deep breath and holds my stare. “If we’re going to keep seeing each other−”

I slice through her words now. “There is no
if.
I want you. I want to be with you. I fucked up because I was scared, but I promise never to shut you out again.” I pull her hands up to my lips. Pressing against them with so much tenderness, I mutter, “I’m so sorry . . .” A tense silence starts to fill the space between us. “Are we okay, Lucy?” I pull her chin in between my fingers, angling her face toward me when she won’t look at me.

“Yes and no.” Well that answer clarifies
nothing.

“You’re going to have to help me out here, love. Are we okay?”

“No,” she answers quietly.

Fuck. I fucked up real good this time.

“But we can be,” she adds softly, leaning into my touch. “We can be better than good if you just promise to be open with me. You can’t shut me out just because you’re unsure of something. That’s not fair to me.”

“You’re right. It’s not fair and I was an ass. Say you’ll forgive me.” She laughs at my last words.

“You’re a piece of work. Demanding things from me now, are you?” She angles her head to the side, pointing an accusing, but joking finger in my face. We both let out a chuckle as some of the tension fades away. “When you stopped calling, I got really scared you were leaving me,” she admits after the laughter subsides.

“Not if I have anything to do with it, love.” She visibly relaxes as I pull her into my arms.

“Now, I just need to know one thing.” My stomach twists with a touch of nervousness. “I need to know that even though you don’t want kids,” looking me directly in the eyes once again to avoid any kind of miscommunication, “which is exactly what I don’t want either . . .” My lips quirk up thinking about how well this beautifully breathtaking woman before me already understands me. “If you want me, if you want to be an
us,
then Melanie has to be part of that equation.”

“Of course,” I answer her instantly, without any hesitation. I squeeze her tightly, hoping to wring out any doubts she may have. “She was always a part of what I hope to be with you.” Combing my fingers through her hair helps her relax against my chest. “I just hope she’ll be as open to the idea as we are.”

“She has no choice, really. You’re a good man and she’ll see that we’re happy. I’d love for you to meet her, officially if you’re up for it. She comes home this Friday and I was thinking about having Maddy and Reid over for dinner.”

“Wait. You were going to cook? I don’t think your microwave can handle that kind of volume.” I raise an eyebrow and she slaps my chest playfully before caressing it tenderly.

“I’ve been getting better, actually. You’ve inspired me to try harder. Besides, I wasn’t a terrible cook when Melanie was younger.” Pride swells in my chest at seeing how willing she is to move beyond her comfort zone.

“What I was going to suggest, before you openly mocked me,” now she raises an eyebrow, “was for you to come over. You already know Reid from the ball and I’ve never met anyone who didn’t immediately like Maddy. And you know Linda, too. I think it could be a really great night. What do you think?”