Page 38 of Lucas & Melissa Falling in Love
Chapter 13
The things I held back from Melissa are not small matters, not the kind of things I can gloss over. I know Melissa struggles to rise above the legacy of her birth father and his family and I know she is determined to do it one way or another.
For me, my story comes from the exact opposite direction. My struggle is to liveupto my family’s legacy—a very proud and powerful one.
She has no idea who I am, not where I come from and not what drives me.
And I know she will be angry when she finds out, her pride hurt that I hadn’t shared everything with her, that I hadn’t trusted her.
Maybe my guilt over the fact that I’m right not to trust her will make her angrier. She won’t take it well that in not sharing my story I’m withholding so much that I know she would consider important. But my story isn’t the most important part of me.Sheholds the most important part of me in her heart.
Hell, who am I kidding? Of course my family legacy is important. And especially to Melissa. Because she is still trying to live down her own.
The only real question is how long it will take to regain her trust. She’d been right that we come from different places, but not in the way she thinks.
The one wild card I’m most worried about is her pride. Will she let it stand in our way or will pride fuel her need to prove herself?She is so damn determined to prove herself. I’m not sure who she’s proving herself to any more, not sure she even knows.
“Lucas,” she says. She chokes up. “You came back. I—”
I stroke her chin while it trembles. It’s amazing and heartbreaking to see her this way.Vulnerable. The one thing she most hates to be. I’m touched that she’s allowing me this intimacy, this honesty. I’m pained that she’s feeling such pain.
The feel of her, the scent of her, the fact that she clearly wants me there, holds me captive in our own private bubble. Blocking out the party and curiosity surrounding us is easy, but it can’t last forever. Melissa stirs and her eyes dart past me, her face returning to form, to the indestructible confident beauty, the competent, guarded, and stubborn demeanor I know—the version of her I get hard over.
The buzz of the room expands around us, coming back to life, erasing the cocoon of intimacy we’d been in. Someone shoves my back. I turn and see Bert’s half-drunk glare.
“What the hell is going on, Lucas—Mr. Uber Driver? You two still an item?” He laughed. “I didn’t think so—couldn’t believe Melissa would be hooked on anUber driver—”
“That’s enough.” I cut him off before he stirs up trouble. I want to punch him in the mouth, but I don’t want to deal with the aftermath, get labeled as a thug. Not that it would matter ultimately. When people find out my family name, it generally quells any other impression they have of me.
And isn’t that the reason I hold my family legacy a secret? Isn’t that the reason I’m an Uber driver in the first place?
“Why don’t you go over to the bar and get another drink, Bert?” Melissa says. “Add to the barrel of scotch already pooling in your gut?” She gives him a look that is no more than annoyed, as if Bert is worth no more concern than old bubblegum stuck to the bottom of her shoe.
A well of empathy for the man stirs, but it’s a very small well, more like a puddle. He stands at my shoulder, trying to stare her down, when Margo and George intervene. I’d spied them waiting for an opening to intrude, more curiosity in their faces than concern, maybe even a touch of pleased amusement if I’m reading them right—and I pride myself on reading people right. I have a pretty good track record.
But reading Melissa is my biggest risk. I have everything at stake on reading her right: my heart and soul. I have to be right about her, about my instinct that deep down she won’t let our connection go, won’t throw away what we could have together.
But she has that stubborn pride so I hope I’m not miscalculating who she really is, because when I tell her who I am, all hell will break loose. Then we’ll all know whether Melissa’s pride, her need to feel that she’s good enough, is bigger than her heart. Just thinking about the moment of truth has me sweating. It won’t matter to her if I insist she’s more than good enough, not now, not after my pretense has implied otherwise.
I exchange a quick glance with her as Margo appears at her shoulder.
“I can’t tell you how surprised we are to see you Lucas. But I’m so glad you’re here to celebrate the New Year with us.” Margo holds out her hand and I take it and kiss it without thinking. It’s my upbringing coming out.
“Ditto for me, man. We would have sent an invitation but we had no idea where to send it. You are quite the ghost.” George gives me a look that suggests a wink without winking. He has a way about him that disarms and I’m still not sure if I should trust him. Not because he’s not a decent man, but because he’s a hundred percent loyal to Melissa and has her back. And I know he isn’t sure if I’m good for her.
It seems like I’m the only one in the world who knows how perfect we are for each other, how connected down deep we are, how we could complete each other and make our lives together seem like heaven on earth. I know how crazy this might all seem to someone else, someone who can’t feel our connection. But I’ve had more than enough time to know that life would be a kick going through it with Melissa. There would be no trouble too bad to endure together.
These are my thoughts as I watch her and she watches back and I’m convinced she’s reading my mind. Margo interrupts.
“Speaking of which—you have to give us your contact information, Lucas, before you go tonight,” Margo says. “At least tell us your last name.” She loops an arm around Melissa’s shoulders and they both look at me expecting an answer. Right now.
My heart skips a beat and my head hurts trying to find a way to dance around my identity one more time.This one last time, I tell myself. And I hope I’m not lying.
“Here’s my card. It has my number.” I slip my special Uber card from my pocket and hand it to Margo. It saysLucas the Italian Driver#1and has my cell phone number on it. It’s stylized with a logo and I can tell Margo is looking for the name as she stares at it, so I have to say something more.
“Melissa won’t need my number because I’m not letting her leave my side for a good long while.”
“You’re staying over then?” George smiles. Though I know he’s as genuine as they come, there’s a secretive look in his grin and I wonder what he knows. It’s possible he recognizes me. I have a moment of guilt about being evasive, but it’s not like I’m hiding a dark past, a criminal record or something—quite the opposite. I can’t let myself feel too bad. I take a deep breath and relax.
