Call me Lucy: An Enemies to Lovers romance

by Rania Battany

Relief surged through me, making me feel sick and elated at the same time.

  Willing my stupidly rapid pulse to steady, I walked across the square, casually sitting beside her. Still, she didn’t move, so lost in thought that she hadn’t seen me. I edged closer, and my knee brushed hers. Like a switch, something inside her flicked on, and she jumped, her gaze dropping to where my knee touched hers.

  Cautiously, she looked up, and her bloodshot eyes met mine. We didn’t speak. We just stared at each other.

  I wanted to say something, to reach for her hand—to do something—but I couldn’t move. Her lips twitched into a small, broken smile, and she turned away.

  ‘At first,’ she said, looking toward the congested streets, ‘when I was much younger, my mum wouldn’t start drinking until she put me to sleep. I couldn’t get her up until mid-afternoon, but that wasn’t a problem until I started school. In my first year, a teacher asked why I was always late and why I never had any lunch with me. I told her that sometimes I couldn’t wake Mum up in the morning.’

  She inhaled a shaky breath. ‘That was the first time they took me away from her. I felt so bad. I kept thinking if I hadn’t said anything, no one would’ve known.’

  I remained motionless, listening, and she continued, her eyes as distant as her voice.

  ‘My mum promised she’d get me back, and she did. She got clean and was good for a while. But slowly, I stopped being able to wake her up. I was so scared they’d take me away again, so I learned how to get up early every morning, put a slice of cheese between two pieces of bread, and walk myself to school. And I figured if I stayed really still—if I stayed really quiet—I would never be seen, and if I was never seen, no one could ask any questions, and I wouldn’t be taken away from her again.’

  She looked at me, her shoulders sagging beneath the weight of her words. ‘But someone always found out, Billy. It never mattered how quiet I was—I was taken away from her over and over and over again. And she always got me back. She always fought for me by getting clean, by getting her shit together. But her demons always returned, and so did the alcohol. She isn’t a bad person. She just didn’t know how else to cope with life.’

  I bit my tongue, refraining from blurting out what I really thought, and in my silence, she looked away, taking a moment before she continued.

  ‘I met Tyler at a foster home we shared when we were fifteen. He had it much worse than I did.’ She released a hollow laugh, shaking her head. ‘It’s funny, if you hear something enough times, you’ll just believe it, and all he ever told me was that no one would ever want us. I got my tattoo when I was seventeen. My body was the only thing I could control, the one thing he couldn’t control. So I hid it from him.’

  She hesitated, then caught my gaze. ‘You’re the only person who’s ever seen my tattoo. The only person who’s ever seen me—laid on top of me. And I knew what I was doing, Billy. My memory was back when that happened.’

  On hearing that, something wild surged through me, something primal. But I calmed it, changing the subject to something much more urgent.

  ‘And your heart?’ I said, breaking my silence. ‘Why haven’t you gone to any of the appointments Lillian made for you?’

  She shrugged. ‘What’s the point? They would’ve told me my heart is broken and that it needs fixing. But who am I fixing it for? I have no one. Not even my mum noticed I was gone.’

  ‘For yourself,’ I said firmly. ‘You’d be fixing it for yourself. Not for your mum or for me, or because Lillian wants you to, but for you. You need to know you’re worth that.’

  Tears glazed her eyes. ‘I’m so sorry I made you and Lillian fight. I never wanted to come between you.’

  I waved away her apology. ‘Lillian and I fight all the time. And I know it would’ve sounded like the end of the world today, but we always kiss and make up. It’s what we do. It’s what all Lebanese people do.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘You’re Lebanese?’

  ‘I was born here, but yeah. You didn’t know this whole time?’

  Curiosity glimmered in her smile. ‘I wanted to ask, but I was afraid you’d think it mattered to me.’

  She spun around until she faced me fully. ‘Everything about you was different. Everything. The food, your loving family, the language. I don’t think I would’ve ever got my memory back if Tyler hadn’t found me. I’d spent my life hiding, but being around you, everyone looked at me—like really looked at me. There was nowhere to hide, and … I kind of liked it.’

  Lines suddenly creased her brow, and her shoulders curled inwards. Her smile faded as she stood, her gaze focused on her feet. ‘I’ll never find enough ways to thank you. Or Lillian.’

  Without another word, she walked across the square, toward Central Station. It took me a moment to register she was leaving—for good. Leaping up, I ran after her, calling through the crowd.

  ‘Meg!’

  She came to a dead stop, keeping her back to me. Slowly, she turned, and all I saw was her—her broken smile, her vivid-blue eyes … her beautiful face.

  ‘So, that’s it?’ I said when I reached her. ‘That was goodbye?’

  She bit her quivering lip. ‘You don’t want to be with someone like me. Someone with a past like mine.’

  ‘Why? Because you were in and out of foster homes?’

  I shook my head in disbelief. ‘My God, I can’t even begin to imagine why you’d think that’d change how I feel about you. If anything, it’d make me care more. Not less.’

  I stepped closer, closing the gap between us. ‘Listen, I know you’ll have a lot to figure out about yourself, a lot to do to get your life back on track. But I’d love to be there beside you while you do that. I’ll be patient. I’ll wait until you figure out who Meg is.’

  I reached my hand out to caress her face, and she edged back.

  ‘Please don’t,’ she whispered. ‘If you touch me, I don’t think I’ll be able to convince myself to leave.’

  ‘You’ll never be forgotten again, Meg. Not by me.’

  I cupped her cheek, and our eyes locked. Tilting her head up, I pressed my mouth to hers. She sank against me, surrendering to the kiss, to me, to how I knew she felt. Her tongue slipped over mine, sending a wave of electricity through me, reigniting my desperate need to keep her with me, to keep her safe.

  She wrapped her arms around my back and slipped her hands under my t-shirt, her fingers leaving a trail of warmth wherever they landed.

  I missed her lips the moment she pulled away.

  ‘I don’t know if I can face Lillian. I can’t imagine what she thinks of me,’ she said.

  ‘If you knew her at all, you’d know all she wants is for you to be okay. Now that you know who you are, she’ll help you get your life back. Nothing will make her happier. You need to believe me.’

  She rubbed her brow, thinking, and my gaze fell to the scars on her left wrist. Taking hold of her arm, I gently traced my fingers along each one. ‘So, what’s the story with these?’

  ‘It’s really insane. So insane it sounds made up.’

  I smiled with curiosity. ‘Now you really have to tell me.’

  ‘I got too close to a cat with a vacuum. She lunged at me and ripped my arm to shreds.’

  I shouldn’t have, but I laughed. ‘You’re right. That does sound totally made up.’

  Hesitation creased her brow. ‘Are you sure Lillian will be all right with me coming back? Are you sure you want me to come back?’

  I shook my head and smiled. ‘You ask the strangest things.’

  Wrapping my arms around her, I swept her feet off the ground and kissed her as if I’d never get enough. Because—when her lips were on mine—I couldn’t get enough.

  21

  Her – One Year Later

  Billy’s mum, Helen, peered over my shoulder, studying the little sausages I was making by hand for dinner, and she smiled wider than ever before.

  ‘You such a good learner!’

  Pride swelled through me, an
d my cheeks flushed with warmth. This was my second cooking lesson with her—on my request—and I was picking it up much quicker than I’d expected.

  Lillian sat at the kitchen table, looking utterly grossed out by the sight of my fingers in uncooked meat.

  ‘Ugh,’ she grumbled. ‘That smell!’

  I laughed at her scrunched-up face. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. There isn’t a smell.’

  I could see a shirtless Billy outside, mowing his mum’s back lawn, his skin sweaty under the intense summer sun. He was such a good son, taking care of Helen the way he did.

  He looked up briefly and caught me ogling his semi-naked body from the kitchen window. Winking, he blew me a kiss, and I grinned back, my stomach leaping at the thought of his touch.

  I couldn’t wait for him to finish and come inside so I could show off my cooking.

  ‘Well, I can smell something!’ Lillian sulked.

  She retreated to the living room and reclined on the couch. As if impulsively, she rested her hand on her belly. On catching my eye, she hurriedly moved her hand away, tucking it under her head instead.

  I rolled the last bit of meat into a small sausage and placed it on the baking tray with the others. Helen clapped, her face beaming with delight.

  ‘They perfect. Just perfect! Oh, Meg, you will make such a good wife one day!’

  Lillian leaped up, her eyes as wide as her mouth. ‘Mum! What in the world does being a good cook have to do with being a good wife?!’

  ‘Nothing,’ Helen added dismissively. ‘But it helps. And one day when she marry Billy, she could make him the food he love.’

  The warmth flushing my cheeks spread until my neck and ears burned, and I knew my face would be bright red—a curse of my white skin.

  Lillian shook her head, mortified. ‘Firstly, Meg is only twenty-three. Secondly, let her finish her studies before you start bringing up marriage, especially considering how competitive graphic animation is. And thirdly, when they’re married, Billy can make her the food she loves.’

  I busied myself at the sink, trying to avoid having to look at anyone when I felt Billy’s arms wrap around me from behind. He nibbled on my neck, planting ticklish kisses down to my shoulder, and I laughed.

  I laughed harder when Helen playfully whacked his head with her hand.

  ‘Not in my kitchen,’ she snapped.

  Billy groaned as he rubbed the back of his head. But when Helen wandered out into the garden, he spun me around, squeezed me into a tight hug and planted a deep, wet kiss on my lips.

  ‘Take that somewhere private!’ Lillian called from the couch.

  Billy laughed. Leaning forward, he whispered in my ear, ‘I totally plan to,’ before kissing me again.

  Billy reclined against our bedhead, and I sat, knees spread, over his lap. He brushed his fingers through my blond hair, trailing kisses along my collarbone.

  ‘What did you think of my sausages today?’ I asked.

  ‘Almost as good as my mum’s,’ he mumbled, not paying attention.

  His hands found their way under my tank, and he pulled it over my head. And just as he had done every other time, he took a moment to study my scar—long and thick, slightly left of center, right beside my heart.

  Gently, he traced his finger over it. ‘You see, Meg? You were only temporarily broken too.’

  I looked down at my chest, seeing the lump of scar tissue. Ugly. Big. Lifesaving.

  ‘I hate this scar,’ I said.

  He kissed it. ‘Don’t say that. It’s my favorite part of you.’

  He didn’t have to say why he thought that. He’d told me a million times before.

  That scar reminded us both of why I was still here.

  ‘I think Lillian’s pregnant,’ I blurted.

  His eyes widened. ‘What? Why?’

  I shrugged. ‘Just a feeling I have.’

  ‘Well, Mum will probably have a heart attack. You know, since she isn’t married.’

  I laughed, remembering Lillian and Helen’s conversation about marriage earlier. But then, looking at Billy, my laughter faded into a nervous smile.

  ‘Your mum tried to marry me off today.’

  He slipped his fingers around my ass, pulling me closer to his groin, pushing his hardening dick into my cotton underwear.

  ‘Oh, yeah? Who’s she trying to marry you off to?’ His lips kicked up into a devilish smile as he slid his fingers into the hem of my underwear, feeling his way through my growing wetness.

  I inhaled a shaky breath. ‘Billy … I’d like it if you were mine. Forever.’

  He traced his free hand across my chest, leaving it to rest over my scar, then pressed his lips to mine. The emotion behind it sent goosebumps erupting over my body, leaving my once broken heart pounding at his touch. He shifted me onto my back so he could slip between my open legs, and I knew it with renewed certainty—his was the only touch I’d ever crave.

  His smile softened. Sincerity replaced the cheekiness in his expression, and he locked his beautiful eyes with mine. ‘I’m already yours forever.’

  I exhaled with relief, reveling in the love he gave me, grateful for everything he’d helped me find—a home, a family, my voice … myself.

  Billy was mine. And I was his. Lucy. Meg. It didn’t matter.

  Because with him, I knew I would always be seen.

  With him, I never wanted to hide again.

  I hope you enjoyed Meg and Billy’s story. Call me Lucy is the first full-length book in my Stolen Hearts series, which is made up of four stand-alone books with interconnecting characters. If you haven’t done so already, you can read the prequel, Letters to Leila, which is a sexy second-chance novella that follows Leila and Jacob’s story—A feisty heroine that refuses to let her hero go! Only 99 cents or free with Kindle Unlimited.

  Grab your copy of Letters to Leila here:

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  Want to know what happens between Lillian and Blake? Choosing Lillian is the next book in my Stolen Hearts series and is due for release in mid-2020. To be alerted on the exact release date, you can join my NEWSLETTER HERE.

  If you enjoyed Call me Lucy, please let others know by leaving a review on Amazon and on Goodreads HERE.

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  Author Note

  While Tyler believed he cared for Meg, he was, ultimately, engaging in a form of psychological abuse in which he manipulated and degraded her sense of self-worth. I urge anyone who feels they may be in a similar relationship to seek help.

  Meg’s memory loss may not have been focal retrograde amnesia. Memory loss is complex, and the experience often differs from individual to individual. I did my best to represent the facts as I understood them during my research.

  Regarding Meg’s heart condition, there were several diseases that could have caused her symptoms. During my research I discovered there are a few congenital heart defects that may go unnoticed as children, but the symptoms will worsen and potentially become fatal as the person ages. While I based Meg’s symptoms on an actual disease, I embellished the severity for the sake of the story.

  About my connection to this story.

  Thank you so much for reading Call me Lucy. While this story is completely fictional, as always, I drew some inspiration from my real life. I am an Australian-born Lebanese woman married to an Australian man. We have three totally blond children that look absolutely nothing like me. One of the things my hubby always said when we first started dating was how much he loved my skin. And, one of the things I still find funny is how easily my hubby burns from a few minutes of exposure to the sun. My family is LOUD. His family isn’t. I introduced him to foods he’d never tasted before. And the entire concept of meat and three veg still baffles me. We met at nineteen, were engaged by twenty-two, married at twenty-three, and have been together
for nearly sixteen years (wow, has it been that long?) Not only is he still the love of my life, but we still have a giggle now and then about our cultural differences. Even after all this time.

  Acknowledgements

  A big thank you to my editor, Libby Iriks. Thanks for helping me out when I found myself facing a tight deadline, for always being so thorough, for generally being awesome at what you do, and for making Call me Lucy the best it could be. And thank you SO much for pushing me to keep going when I thought I wanted to give up.

  Another big thanks to Eliza Bennetts. Thank you for being my one and only ever beta reader, for offering support and encouragement when I wasn’t sure which direction to go in, and for your utmost belief in this story and in me as an author.

  To my last-minute advanced readers—thank you! Especially you, Michael Reid—you are, after all, my true #1 fan.

  To my three children, thank you for your patience during this crazy year.

  To my dad, who passed away in February. Just when I was the most confused, you still—even from the heavens—found a way to guide me on the right path.

  And, as always, the biggest thanks goes to my husband, my best friend—the love of my life. This journey has been a big one for me, and so tough at times. Without your ongoing support and belief in me, Brendan, I wouldn’t have released this book. I’m still wondering what I did right to deserve you.