Unentangled

by Katherine King

  "Yeah, we met," I manage to spit out.

  Needing to get out of there before I lose control and punch a member of the law enforcement in the face, I turn abruptly on my heel and leave without saying another word.

  Reeling, feeling humiliated – but most of all feeling lost, I decide to go for my run anyway because I need it to help me deal with the anger and disappointment spiraling through me. A few minutes later, they pass me in his car on the dirt road, further tearing my heart out. I only increase my pace, increasing my heart rate, wanting to run until this hurt - this deep ache, stopped.

  I push myself hard so that by the time I return to the driveway of my house, my heart is racing so hard it hurts every time it beats but it’s nothing compared to the hurt of knowing Emma is with someone else.

  Possibly allowing him to touch her...

  Allowing him to discover how good she must feel underneath that tight black dress...

  I don’t bother to cool out or stretch before going inside. I’m too filled with anger. It’s still pulsing through my veins, a living breathing thing that is consuming me.

  He's with her right now, - my mind mocks me.

  Angrily, I grab a rock glass, pour two fingers of scotch and tip it back quickly.

  That glass is followed by another and yet another until I’m completely drunk and forget everything, where I am, how much I have drank.

  Forgetting everything...

  Except Emma and that she chose someone else.

  I wake the next morning with a large hangover, in the same running clothes, still sitting in the same chair I had sat in last night, drinking myself into a stupor. Showering, with my head hammering, I lean my head forward under the spray. I stay there for several moments, wishing that the pictures of Dave touching her, kissing her – tasting her- could be magically erased from my mind.

  The shower runs cold and still the images play through my mind, repeating...and repeating. Furiously turning off the shower, I dry myself quickly and dress. I can’t face anyone right now, not feeling this way, so I decide to head to the winery. As I pass the cottage, my stomach clenches, bracing myself as my head automatically turns to see if his car had stayed the night.

  It releases in a swift breath when I see her car only in the driveway.

  I continue on my way, grateful that I didn't have to bear witness to him staying with her overnight.

  In my god damn cottage...

  With the girl that I want...

  Pulling into my designated parking spot, I turn off my car and get out. I continue past the restaurant to the winery. Stepping into the fields, I slowly walk through them, trying to settle my mind before I have to be at my parent’s house for our weekly Saturday brunch.

  After an hour, feeling a little more in control, I return to my car and drive a little further down the road to my parent's house.

  Opening the door to their home, I step through.

  "Is that you Lucas?" I hear my mother call from the kitchen that's down the hall a few feet.

  "Yeah," I reply.

  She immediately steps out from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron as her eyes fall on my face.

  "What's happened?" she asks with concern.

  "What makes you think something has happened?" I ask, cryptic.

  "Lucas. I can tell from your tone," she says sharply, exasperation in her voice, as she reaches me.

  "It's nothing, mom," I say, exhaling on a huge sigh.

  "It's not nothing Lucas," she reaches out to hug me but stiffens and pulls back to stare into my eyes. "You smell like a brewery."

  "I was a little drunk last night," I pull her back in for a hug anyway using it as an excuse so she will stop scanning my face, stop trying to guess what is wrong.

  "More than a little from the smell of you," she says as she softens her voice a little and returns my hug. "Your dad isn't back from the bakery yet. Come, I'll get you some coffee to help with that hangover."

  I gratefully accept the coffee once I’m settled in a bar chair at the kitchen island. My stomach growls as I smell the usual brunch of eggs Benedict and hash browns.

  Moments later, I hear the front door open and then my dad appears in the kitchen. He places a kiss on my mother's cheek saying, "The English muffins are fresh. Phil took them out of the oven while I was there." Turning to me he does a double take upon seeing my face, asking, "What's happened to you? You look irritated and sour."

  I open my mouth in rebuttal but my mother cuts me off saying, "He hasn't said yet. But I think it has something to do with Emma."

  Slapping me on the back, dad smiles a broad smile as he asks teasingly, "She's giving you a chase, is she?"

  After meeting Emma that first day, my parents had immediately picked up on my attraction to her. While my mom had steadily encouraged me not to give up, my dad had steadily ribbed me, enjoying the fact that his son was having difficulties trying to attain a woman’s attention for once.

  "She’s dating someone else," I say through clenched teeth, not amused by my father’s ribbing.

  My mother stops what she is doing to look up at me, my father dropping the teasing note.

  "Oh, Lucas. I'm so sorry. I thought she told you she had no boyfriend?" mom asks, crossing to me to stare into my face from across the island. I know she is probing, trying to delve deep to see how much this is affecting me. My mother had been the first to pick up on my attraction that day when they had met Emma and we had had a few conversations about Emma since then. She knew I was in deep, way deeper than I should be for a non-existent relationship as of yet.

  "She did. I guess when I asked, they weren't an item at that time," I state in a snide tone.

  "Honey, I’m so sorry," my mother tries to soothe.

  Sighing, dropping the snideness, I admit honestly, "It just really...hurt."

  My parents remain silent, unknowing for the first time ever of how to reply.

  "I'm starving," I say, trying to get them off the topic of Emma.

  My mom moves back to the stove after reaching across to lightly squeeze my hand in reassurance.

  We eat in relative silence during brunch; the only topic of conversation is when dad asks my opinion on the vines progress to date. As soon as we are done eating, there’s none of the usual banter between us as I help clean up and then excuse myself immediately.

  My mother follows me to the door, stopping me with a hand on my arm as she says softly, "Lucas. I know you’re hurting but you never told Emma how you felt. She has a right to see whomever she wants. She did nothing wrong. Don't take it out on her by being surly to her at work. She is still a great employee."

  Sighing, I reply, "I have no intention of taking anything out on her, mom. I will maintain a professional relationship with her. I know we need her to launch the restaurant and inn successfully."

  She nods her head before leaning up to kiss me lightly on the cheek.

  Turning from her, I head out to my car. Sliding behind the wheel, I suddenly wonder when this feeling of loneliness invaded me.

  Chapter 7

  Emma

  Heading into work on Monday, I arrive anxious.

  I haven’t seen Lucas since he had shown up Friday evening, inviting me on a run. It had been awkward when Dave had arrived. I could tell by Lucas’s reaction that he was distraught.

  I knew the exact reason why because it had been written all over his face.

  And it terrified me.

  My date with Dave Friday evening had been a complete disaster. I had been distracted, worried about Lucas all evening.

  Like a ping-pong ball in motion, I had bounced back and forth between the urge to end the date early to seek out Lucas to telling myself to remain where I was because becoming involved with Lucas would be a huge mistake.

  My head had won and when Dave had dropped me back to the cottage after I had forced myself to stay and finish dinner with him, he had politely walked me to my door despite my protests that I was fine to see myself in. I was awkw
ard and uncomfortable, had been all evening, as I tried to force myself to keep my mind on the man in front of me – instead of the one my body seemed to be yearning for and I knew Dave knew the reason why I was distracted. It had hung heavily between us all night as I would absentmindedly try to maintain a conversation with Dave, but that didn't stop him from swooping down to kiss me after I unlocked my door. Feeling his tongue trying to gain entry into my mouth, I had enough pretending for one night and I had pulled away. It wasn't that it wasn't unpleasant; it just didn't do anything for me.

  It didn’t electrify me.

  Not like just being in the same room as Lucas electrified me.

  That jolt of realization had made me send Dave away immediately, telling him that I didn't think things were going to work out between us.

  Dave’s only response had been to ask, “It’s because of him, isn’t it?”

  Knowing it was true but unable to admit it aloud, I had remained silent. Dave had eventually turned and left me – finally - alone on the porch.

  Sighing deeply, I pull open the door to the restaurant, unsure how Lucas would treat me this morning. I had been fretting all weekend and almost gained the courage to walk to his home yesterday.

  But I didn't follow through.

  I was afraid of what would happen if I went to him.

  Glancing around the steadily progressing restaurant, I look for Lucas but he is nowhere to be seen. I head up to my office, leaving my door open in the hopes that he would come looking for me. Pressing the button on my coffee maker, I watch as the coffee slowly drips into my cup.

  I miss him, - I silently confess to myself.

  It feels like forever, instead of only last week, that we picnicked together, watched the sunrise, walked in his vineyard.

  When he had watched me with hope and caution in his eyes as he unlocked the door to my office.

  My heart squeezes painfully as I recall the relief that had crossed his face when I had not curbed my response, my sheer delight in his thoughtfulness towards me when I had told him how much it had meant to me.

  "Everything okay, Emma? You are staring at that coffee cup pretty intently," I hear Martha's concerned voice ask from my doorway.

  Glancing over my shoulder at her, I respond, "I'm fine. Only needing my morning caffeine fix."

  She pauses for a moment but must decide to drop her questioning as she says informatively, "Lucas is gone for the week. He decided last minute to attend a conference in Napa Valley that his father usually attends every year."

  A spear of disappointment shoots through me and I feel an unexplainable loss that he won't be around. I admit to myself that I wanted him to show up on my doorstep all weekend, to ask me to watch the sunset again, to run next to him...anything.

  "Okay," I sigh out, trying hard to hide what I’m feeling for Lucas and the disappointment in knowing I won’t see him for a while. "I'll start unpacking the boxes that were delivered early this morning. I think most of the linens have arrived. I want to get at least one of the inn rooms together for a photoshoot."

  Nodding, Martha pauses, as if she wants to say something but she must decide against it as she says softly, "I'll be in my office if you need me. Even if you just need to talk."

  Startled, I hold her eyes and see the knowledge, the awareness in her eyes of my inner turmoil. My throat feels swollen, my insides torn, as I break our gaze.

  Finally – thankfully – after a few moments, I hear her leave.

  Taking my cup from underneath the coffee maker, I forcefully push away all thoughts of Lucas and Friday night to throw myself into work. I begin by quickly checking the inn reservation system to see how many reservations we have picked up since I connected with online booking engines. The bookings have more than doubled and my spirits rise a fraction.

  But only a fraction.

  I keep myself occupied the rest of the week with focusing on work at the inn. I manage to finish a room and schedule a photo session, along with lining up advertising placements. I also drop by the winery to watch as Lucas's mom runs the winery with a knowledge that I hope to have some day and my admiration for her grows quickly. We develop a friendship very quickly and she invites me to lunch at her home on Thursday. Eagerly accepting, I arrive on her doorstep astounded at the monstrosity of her home which is of the plantation style, sprawling like an eagle overlooking the vineyard.

  Answering the door, Lucas's mom warmly welcomes me in with a hug. We enjoy lunch outside on her back-patio area, talking about the wine making process, and I lose track of time as I absorb every word she says.

  After finishing my meal, I say, "Thanks so much Mrs. Reid for your hospitality and sharing your knowledge. I should get back to the inn. The photographer is scheduled to arrive within the half hour and I want to do a last-minute check to make sure the room is as I want it."

  "You are more than welcome, Emma, but please, you must call me Charlotte," she stresses warmly.

  Smiling warmly at her in return, I reply, "Thanks, Charlotte, for the lovely lunch."

  "You must come back again," she says as she takes my hands, squeezing tightly.

  "You say when and I’ll be here," I respond eagerly, meaning it. I love the genuine warmth of this woman.

  "Come for brunch Saturday at 11," she throws out the invite immediately.

  Laughing, I nod before giving her hands a squeeze in return.

  Friday comes and goes in a blur with the restaurant renovations now needing my attention with the small details. Saturday morning, I rise early for a walk first with Quinny before going on a run. During the run, I admit to myself that I wish Lucas was running next to me, chatting with me from time to time about the upcoming day. Returning back to the cottage, I shower, sipping slowly on a coffee as I dry my hair. I only had a banana for breakfast, wanting to save myself for what is sure to be a great brunch.

  Arriving at the Reid's family home a few minutes before 11am, I ring the doorbell. As the door swings open, I’m unprepared to be suddenly staring into the intense blue eyes that I have missed, that had haunted me every waking moment of the past week.

  That had been the feature of my dreams every night.

  Face to face with him again, I have to catch my breath.

  He's so tall and handsome as hell, - my mind silently acknowledges as my eyes eagerly run over his face.

  "Mr. Reid..." I say breathless.

  "Mom didn't tell me you were coming," is his abrupt reply.

  "Lucas! That's no way to greet a guest," I hear his mother admonish sternly from behind him.

  Lucas drops his hand from the doorknob and turns away, leaving me outside on the step, not bothering to invite me in.

  "Please, Emma. Come in. I didn't realize my son didn't have manners," she says loudly to Lucas's retreating back.

  “Maybe I should leave," I offer quietly.

  "Nonsense. He's just in a bad mood," she says, dismissing Lucas’s response to me as nothing, as she grasps my forearm to encourage me to stay. Because I don't want to upset her further, I step inside. She gestures for me to precede her down the hallway.

  I keep my eyes averted from Lucas as I enter the kitchen but his mother doesn't pause as she pulls out a chair next to Lucas at the kitchen island, waiting expectantly for me to sit. Not knowing what else to do, I take a seat.

  "Would you like some coffee, Emma, while I finish up brunch?" Charlotte inquires as she heads over to the coffee maker.

  "I'd love one but I can get it," I say, half rising from my chair, wanting to place distance between myself and the obviously angry man sitting next to me.

  "You might as well sit. She won't let you do anything," I hear Lucas's voice murmur next to me.

  "That's right. Brunch is my time in the kitchen to entertain. So, sit and relax," Charlotte insists as she reaches across the countertop to pour coffee for me.

  I glance quickly at Lucas next to me as I stand awkwardly, half into and half out of my chair, wanting desperately to move away from him an
d his sullen mood, but knowing I don’t have any other choice.

  I force myself to sit back down.

  I concentrate hard on the simple task of mixing my coffee to my liking before taking a sip, watching as Charlotte flies around the kitchen over the rim of my mug.

  My stomach is doing somersaults, being this close to Lucas and I have difficulty swallowing the hot liquid.

  William asks his son several questions about the restaurant and inn, wanting to know if the targeted opening date of May twenty-fourth weekend will still be met, and it mercifully distracts Lucas out of his sullen mood for a moment. Lucas responds to each question, outlining that all the electrical, and plumbing has been completed with the drywall to be installed starting Monday. They speak about a few more business items as I continue to sit next to Lucas, wishing I was far, far away from here.

  "Go take a seat in the breakfast nook, Emma,” Charlotte interrupts my thoughts. But she only makes things worse for me as she says, “Lucas, go keep her company while your dad and I bring in the food." I feel completely out of place as Charlotte has once again put me in a spot where I feel even more uncomfortable. I hear Lucas’s exasperated sigh before he pushes himself to his feet. Unknowing how to extract myself from this situation, I rise from my chair, and wordlessly follow Lucas to the breakfast nook, my eyes straying to his perfect ass, in those perfectly tight jeans of his, feeling awkward the whole way. My hands tremble as I watch him politely pull out a chair for me. He waits silently, his impatience at this fiasco written all over his face. I quickly cross to where he is, and as I sit, he remains to help me scoot my chair back into the table. My nerves prickle as he hesitates for a moment behind me. I wait for him to say something, or do something, but after a few moments, he finally moves to sit directly across from me instead of next to me. I don't know which seating arrangement I prefer; the prior one in the kitchen where he was way too close to me, or this one, as his gaze can now settle directly on my face, making me want to squirm in my seat.

  Not knowing what to say and hating the silence, I inquire politely, "How was your trip to Napa?"