Page 80 of Lucas & Melissa Falling in Love
Lucas says, “I’d appreciate receiving weekly updates regardless of how little progress you might be making.”
“Of course.” Barbara rises from her chair. And we’re done. My stomach does a little flip, but as I stand, Lucas puts an arm around my shoulder and leads me out the door. When we step back into the elevator lobby I take a deep breath.
“How about a drink?” he asks.
“Do you have a minibar in the limo?” I’m not joking and he looks at me askance because he can tell.
“I do. But I was thinking we could go out. Have some dinner with our drinks.”
I laugh as we escape into the elevator, relieved now to have it over with. I let out a big breath.
“Dinner it is then. I think I feel relieved enough to have that over with so that I can eat.”
The limo is out front where it left us and it’s almost eight. Perfect time for dinner and, since it’s a Monday night, we won’t be fighting crowds. I have no idea what kind of place he has in mind—I’m half expecting a Brooklyn deli—when after a short drive, we pull up in front of Gramercy Tavern on East 20thStreet.
“Wow, this is a nice treat,” I say, feeling comfortable in his arms again. I think I might start thinking of the limo as our living room, our comfortable place, our place where we can relax.
“I thought we should celebrate. I managed to make progress today with finding a showroom space.”
“That’s fast. I didn’t even know you had a realtor.”
“I’m using the realtor you recommended, of course,” he says. “She was very accommodating when I told her you referred me.” My pleasure is automatic.
“You’re in good hands then. Rachel is the best and she’s a hardworking sweetheart. She was struggling when I first worked with her, but I could tell she was good people. And very bright and driven.”
“A lot like you,” he says. Which makes me beam more so that the maître d’ must think I’m some ingénue. Then Lucas leans in as we’re following the man to a table, and with his mouth perilously close to touching my earlobe, whispers, “Except she’s not half as beautiful. Not on the inside or outside.” The thrill of his words makes me shiver. But my conscience balks at the beauty on the inside implication. Maybe Lucas doesn’t know how competitive I am. Maybe I don’t want him to know.
But there’s no way I could hide a thing like that, and I know it’s better that he understands all of me, who I really am. I’m starting to feel like I know who that is again.
We sit at a white-clothed lamplit table and Lucas orders wine like he knows how.
“No champagne?” I say.
“Not my favorite. Unless you want it, but I didn’t get the impression it was your favorite either.”
“It’s not. I’m impressed that you noticed. But then you notice everything, don’t you?”
“The challenge of being an artist.” His dimple is in full bloom and I’m fully affected, right down to my panties. But there’s so many things swirling around us that we should talk about. We have almost too much going on and I feel a sudden need to share.
“My first day at the bank went well, thank you for asking,” I say.
“That was my next question.” His dimple doesn’t falter and I believe him.
“First tell me about how you feel now that you’re no longer an artist?” I surprise myself, but that’s the first thing that pops into my head that I need to know. Must have been that crack about being an artist.
“I’m still an artist, but I know what you mean. My new responsibilities are going to limit my time to devote to sculpting. This is something I thought long and hard about before accepting my father’s proposal that I work in the company again.”
“Again?”
He chuckles. “Sure. In my house, growing up, we all work for the company from our time of birth, one way or another. That’s why I left when I did, that’s why I went so far away. It was the only way I could escape the Fierro Motor Company and the life. The company is an extension of the family. Surely you observed that even on your short visit.”
“I guess I did. So is it going to bother you, not sculpting as often as you’re used to, not having that creative outlet?” I want him to share with me his real, deep-down feelings, not a glossed-over version.
He leans forward and cups a hand over mine. “It will. But I won’t abandon my creative impulses all together. I’ll involve myself in the creative aspects of the company. Maybe I’ll sculpt a model of our newest design.”
“It’s amazing how talented you are. At so many things.” My heart picks up its pace as I think about all he is, who he is. And that he’s mine.Sort of.
The sommelier brings our wine and pours it. Lucas is an expert at tasting and I remember him doing the same thing even at home at family meals, remember how he acted as the head of the family while his father was in the hospital and how everyone deferred to him, from his mother to his older sister and the company executives. Even the media.
