Page 43 of Lucas & Melissa Falling in Love
I feel a tiny muscle in my jaw flinch and think about having another scotch. Or at least a glass of wine. But I need to stay sober and together. For a second I close my eyes again and take a deep breath.
“Let’s have a toast,” Margo says. “Lucas, what are you drinking?”
“Ice water,” I say and add a hasty smile at Melissa’s sideways look.
“What does that mean?” she says.
I shrug and turn up the genuine on my smile. Then I move my hand to her hip and pull her closer, needing to feel her against me. Her dress is slinky and smooth, her hip tempting in its roundness. She doesn’t resist and melts into me, allows herself a real smile at me, without the checked emotion, without the nerves or wariness. The ease comes back and with it heightened awareness with the edge of sensual tension underneath. So many layers of feeling pile on but I don’t mind. I feel alive and ready.
Anticipation of midnight starts to buzz in the air around us. The clinking of glasses gets louder, the laughs more frequent. Reconsidering my ice water, if just for the midnight toast, I look at the bartender. But before I can ask for a glass of champagne, I see Will.
“Hey, Willie,” George says. “Have a drink.”
With no more than a half second of hesitation and a quick slide of his eyes in my direction, he joins us. That is how close he is, how comfortable he is with Margo and George—and Melissa too—that he can join in a midnight toast with us even after he’s been rejected, even after he’s had his heart broken. And even though I’m his rival, standing here reminding him of his loss, his failure.
It strikes me then that I don’t understand him. I can’t wrap my mind around the awkwardness of this or how he apparently can’t fathom how awkward it is. For all of them. I don’t understand how any of them could invite the situation.
George hands Will a drink—scotch, same as he gave to me.
“You sure you don’t want something more?” George says to me. “You’re the only one without a drink and the clock is going to strike midnight in a minute.”
Will looks at me, at my drink. “Ice water?” he guesses and shakes his head. “Figures.” Then he downs half his drink without waiting for the clock to chime.
People are counting down now. I pull Melissa toward me and she pulls Margo toward her and the circle tightens. There’s nowhere for Will to go but between me and George. Or be left out. I can’t understand it. Except I realize that I was meant to be the odd one out. I’m the one that doesn’t belong in the tight circle. But here I am.
And I don’t give a f—ck if I’m not supposed to be here. I’m staying.
“Ten. Nine. Eight . . .” People are already blowing horns. It’s loud enough so I can’t hear much of anything, but it doesn’t matter. I pull Melissa around to face me, pulling her away from Margo and fully into my arms.
“Five. Four. Three . . .”
I manage to ditch my drink, putting it down on some surface nearby. I need two hands, one to hold the small of her back, pressing her into me, and the other to hold her chin, to keep her face where I can gaze into her eyes.
“Two. One.”
All hell breaks loose around us, but I don’t join in, don’t let her join in the toast or the drink or the shouts or the singing of “Auld Lang Syne.”
Lowering my head, I brush my lips against hers, whisperHappy New Year, let her whisper back. Her eyes flutter closed, her long dark eyelashes lying against her pale cheek, and I feel the tumult in my chest, the quickening. And then the moment I’ve longed for arrives and my lips are fully pressed against hers, the separation between her essence and mine finally erased.
