Page 30 of Lucas & Melissa Falling in Love
He looked tired when we pulled to the curb in front of Margo’s building for the second time in two days. I put my hand on the door handle and didn’t ask him to come up. I felt awkward about what to say, my jumbled emotions returning and keeping my poise at arm’s distance. We stood on the sidewalk while Henry scooped up my luggage and brought it inside.
“I enjoyed our holiday affair. You’ve been wonderful.”
“Now you’re ending it.” There was no question in his grimly neutral voice.
“I hope you understand. But—”
“You don’t think I’m good enough for you.”
“No, that’s not it. It’s . . . we’re too different. I’m a type A and you’re—”
“What exactly do you think I am?” A hint of frustration splintered his calmness.
I realized I’d never really gotten his whole story, never found out what his family business was, what he meant to do with his life and with his degree in industrial design, what his ambitions and dreams were. I’d dismissed him, made assumptions.I was a horrible, self-centered person.
“I don’t even know what you see in me.” I hiccuped. Foreign emotions welled up.
“I told you. Everything.” His voice was sure. “Endless beauty, intelligence, soul-deep kindness—”
I shook my head. “That was before you knew me. Now you know how horrible I am. I’m ambitious and obsessed with wealth and material things, God forgive me. It’s not pretty, but it’s me.”
“I know who you are. Nothing’s changed. You’re exactly who I thought you were from the beginning.”
I scoffed.
“Sure. You thought I was shallow and petty and ridiculous from the beginning?”
“Sure.” He smiled and it killed me and I laughed and cried actual tears at the same time.
Turning away and covering my eyes, I knew what was wrong with me. The ordeal of losing everything had sapped my confidence, sapped my very soul. I shouldn’t be crying like this, shouldn’t even care what Lucas thought of me. I’d known him two lousy stinking days.Two of the hardest days of my life.
He was still a virtual stranger. And still not the kind of man I was meant to be with.
That’s not what you thought while you made love only two nights ago.
“You don’t want to know my story after all. You’re afraid—”
“That’s not it. I’m not afraid. What would I have to be afraid of? I’m pretty sure you’re not an ax murderer or an ex-con.”
He chuckled with sadness. “You’re afraid that I’m someone you could fall in love with and that’s the last thing you want.”
“You’re wrong. I want that more than anything. I want what Margo and George have with all my heart and soul.”
“On the surface. But you know deep down it would mean giving up your very soul to another person, to have what Margo and George have. You believe you’d need to give up on your life’s ambition, on who you think you are. And you think you’re not ready.”
I shuddered. No need for an answer. His mouth went flat as a shot of pain slashed through his expression. Seeing it almost buckled my knees. He was so strong, seeing that momentary vulnerability hurt me. But experiencing it must have killed him. I put an arm out to touch him, laid my palm on his chest the way I had that first night, to feel his heartbeat.
He didn’t cover my hand with his, the way he had that night, and the non-gesture devastated me.
“I’ll give you some time.” The lilt of his Italian accent weighed in his words. Were his parents in Italy? He’d never said exactly. He turned to walk away, to get back in his car, but I snagged his arm. He stopped and gave me a look of wrenching, gut-ripping sadness.
“Wait that’s not fair. You know I don’t even know your last name, your phone number, where you live or anything about you. How will I get in touch with you?”
Those perfect cupid lips curved into a mocking smile, still leaving all the sadness to show through, and he said, “Call Uber.”
