Page 98 of Lucas & Melissa Falling in Love
Sounds almost scary, but I don’t tell her that because I’m too proud to have my cowardice exposed. Not even to Margo. Not now. I’m working on my emotional bravery and determined to get there. In the meantime, I’m going to put up a good front.
So I say, “Sure. That makes sense.”
I yawn. It’s not fake, but it’s good timing because I’m at the end of my ability to share. Margo yawns back and laughs.
“Bedtime?”
She nods and we help each other off the sofa and walk down the hall, stopping at my room.
I give her a hug.
“Thank you for listening to me and helping me sort things out.”
“You’re no more confused than every other woman in the world who’s falling in love and hits that point where they’re unsure.”
I nod and, ironically, this is the most comforting thing she’s said and it makes me feel better because it rings true. Margo knows all about the mushy side of life. I know I can trust her on this.
She leaves for her room at the end of the long corridor and I go inside the room where Lucas and I first made love. Then I laugh at myself. The way I think about this room is very telling about my state of mind, or the state of my heart.
* * *
Armed with hot black coffee,because I am in battle mode before I leave Margo’s, I take off before the elevator doors open all the way into the lobby. The urgency I feel to get into work before everyone else drives me, making it easy to tolerate the cold dark morning . . . and the snow.
Damn. I ask Henry to help me get a cab because I figure I’ll need all the help I can get. The weather makes competition to get taxis a blood sport in this city. He comes through for me.
Once inside the cab and on my way, I’m pleased to see there isn’t much traffic since it’s only 5:45 a.m. Taking my phone out to check my calendar and notes, the urge to call Lucas strikes. I resist. Why? I don’t know. But he seems like my Achilles’ heel more than my heart’s content, more than my dream come true.
He’s more like an obstacle I need to overcome—as unfair as that is since he’s been nothing short of wonderful. Take that back. He’s not above keeping secrets, stupendous secrets. And he’s a little controlling. Which is the worst splotch a man can have on his blotter, the most devastating red flag a man of mine can have on his spreadsheet of pros and cons.
Now IknowI’m sleep-deprived and take a long sip of coffee, needing it to kick in by the time I get to my desk. The cab pulls up and I’ve successfully overcome my need to call Lucas. Hoping that’s not the biggest accomplishment of the day, I walk through the lonely lobby past the security man, Ned, and stop to say hello. He’s a youngish guy and looks like he has ambition to go places in the security business. But at the same time, he’s not the bully type who throws his weight around. I notice he has considerable weight to throw around with his mega-muscles showing through his uniform. It’s clear he spends time at the gym. That’s ambition for his job, which I appreciate.
“You’re here early,” he says.
“You’ll be saying that every day if you don’t come up with another line, Ned,” I say. He laughs. “You drink coffee?”
“Red Bull.” He lifts a can from behind his high desk. I nod.
“Cheers. See you tomorrow.”
“I’ll be here later,” he says. “Till closing.”
“I’ll be here till after closing,” I say over my shoulder as I walk to the elevators. I don’t see him shaking his head, but I sense it.
When I get off on my floor, I’m gratified to see that my boss isn’t in as I walk by his office and into the big room of half-cubicles. But disappointment crowds in when I see one other loan officer already on the phone. He lifts a hand and waves it at me, mouthing a good morning. I wave back and smile. Competition. Whoever said competition is good for the soul never worked at a bank.
Sloshing out of my coat and taking a folder from my bag, I get to work on the proposal I have in mind for a deal. Without realizing how much time has passed, while I review endless columns of numbers in endless financial statements and audit reports, my desk phone jangles.
Grabbing the receiver without looking away from my screen, I answer automatically.
“Melissa Cooper here.”
“Bert here, your new professional champion and mentor.”
