“My Lucy,” he whispered fervently into her hair, kissing the fluttering pulse at her neck.
Words he’d had such a hard time coming by in the past swirled around his head now, bumping into one another at breakneck speed. They wanted to pour out of his mouth for Lucy to hear, but he determinedly kept them in check. He’d said enough for now. Bravely and beautifully, she’d accepted his need for control. Embraced it without question. He couldn’t ask her for more now. If she knew what he wanted with her, what he intended to have with her, she might get spooked. He needed to take it slow. More importantly, he needed to do this right.
That’s why first thing tomorrow, he was going to find his best friend and tell him the truth. He’d fallen in love with Brent’s sister and there wasn’t a goddamn thing in this world that could keep him from trying to make her love him back. His life, the happiness he’d never hoped for or expected, depended on keeping her. Her keeping him.
After kissing her hair one final time, Matt released her hands from the leather belt, cradling her against his chest and carrying her to the back bedroom. He wanted more than anything to lie down beside her and sleep, but he wouldn’t allow himself the privilege yet. Not until he’d done the honorable thing, thereby giving legitimacy to their relationship, even if relationship was a puny word to describe what they had.
They were connected.
Eyes closed, she snuggled into the pillow, already appearing half-asleep. Jesus, he could have stood there all night looking at her, reveling in the fact that he’d exhausted her energy.
“Matt?”
Lucy calling his name from bed, all rumpled curls and flushed cheeks. He tucked the memory of it away for later and leaned down to kiss her forehead.
“I’m going to go now, baby.”
“You are?” She sat up, holding the comforter over her breasts. “Oh…I’ll let you out.”
“Stay here. Sleep.” Matt tugged the bedding back down and tried to communicate with his eyes what he wouldn’t allow himself to say out loud yet. When he finally slept with her in his arms, there wouldn’t be a hint of doubt or wrongness lying between them. “We can’t keep sneaking around like this. I need to do the right thing, Lucy.”
With a nod, she started to lie back down, then changed her mind and leaned up to kiss him. It wasn’t a see-you-later kiss. No, she obviously had something else in mind. She appealed to his dominant nature by letting her head fall back on her shoulders, so that he towered above her where she lay vulnerable in the bed. Her mouth parted on a sigh, tongue sliding into his mouth like an offering. Matt nearly lost his balance, her taste, her surrender had such influence over him. A split second before it became impossible for him to do anything but follow her down into the pillows and never leave, she eased back.
Matt took a final inhale of her scent. “I’ll be there tomorrow. At the bench.”
“You will?”
If he hadn’t gotten so lost in her, he might have spent more time scrutinizing the odd expression on her face, but all his focus went into leaving before he could no longer manage it.
He nodded, commanding himself to stand. “Bye, Lucy.”
She watched steadily him from the pillow. “Bye, Chuckles.”
Chapter Eighteen
Lucy sat on her grandparents’ bench in Central Park and stared across the green expanse of lawn that seemed to stretch for a mile, before disappearing into the trees. Absently, her fingers traced the carving of the familiar names inside a heart, just to the right of her thigh.
Virginia and Frankie Mason Until the World Stops Spinning.
Knowing five minutes from now would be the sixtieth anniversary of her grandfather’s proposal to her grandmother, she tried to muster a smile, but it withered and died on her face. Instead of commemorating the event, she felt like she was tainting it with her nervous energy. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, trying to picture her grandmother in a fashionable hat, ankles crossed primly and sitting in that very spot. The man she’d been crazy about for months sat beside her with sweaty palms, an engagement ring burning a hole in his pocket. Lucy remembered the proposal story by heart and replayed it now, hoping it would serve to distract her from the uncertainty threatening to topple her over.
Frankie Mason rolled the newspaper in his hands and tapped it on his knee.
So I was thinking, Virginia…
Yes, Frankie. I’ll marry you.
Aw, swell.
The beginnings of a smile played around Lucy’s mouth, but it vanished when Matt took her grandfather’s place in her memory and she replaced Virginia. Instead of Frankie Mason’s gentle face, Matt’s gray eyes watched her steadily from across the bench, a wealth of mystery behind them. She wanted so badly for him to come closer, to hold her as tightly as he had the night before in the kitchen, but instead he got up and walked away. Lucy shook her head to dispel the image, but it stubbornly remained. Unlike him last night, it might never leave her.
She thought back to the afternoon in the coffee shop. With her master’s degree under her arm, she’d thought herself invincible in every aspect of her life. Then Matt had walked in and blown that theory right to hell. Perhaps she’d been naive. She hadn’t been prepared to feel so much for him, to want him to this stunning degree. Holding herself back around him hadn’t been an option and now she sat on this bench, feeling stripped bare. As if parts of her were walking around outside her body and she had no way to get them back.
Last night, she’d been so sure he felt something more. He’d talked about them in the future tense, he’d held her against him so damn tightly, as if trying to fuse them together. Yet he’d gotten out of there so fast, the town house might as well have been on fire. Had she misread him? She couldn’t get past the relentless worry that their relationship had begun and ended with her lie that very first afternoon. Perhaps he’d never gotten past it, and any other outcome had been wishful thinking on her part. In fairness, she hadn’t been with a lot of men. And certainly none like Matt. The kind of man who could tie you up in knots, then yank them tighter and tighter until you imploded. The kind of man who gave your body and mind an equal workout. After he’d opened up to her last night, she’d thought they’d reached some kind of turning point. He wanted her to understand what made him who he is. What he didn’t realize? She’d embraced that man on day one. Back in the motel room, she’d seen him. She’d known him. As much as he allowed someone to know him.
Two years ago, she’d left behind the daredevil and focused on being the Lucy her family needed. How had she missed the fact that Matt was the equivalent of skydiving without a parachute? Instead of listening to his signals, recognizing that he didn’t want anything from her beyond a physical arrangement, she’d let him get close, shown him a part of herself she’d never known existed. Her confidence had built with every encounter. Then he’d stolen it, taking all her progress along with it.
Still, still, there was a stubborn voice in her head telling her she’d read Matt right. He cared about her. He was not a fickle man, nor was he the type to play games with someone’s emotions. Which is why she sat on her grandparents’ bench, praying like hell he showed up. He’d made it to every single event on her itinerary thus far. If he managed to show up this morning, to the only important item on her list, she would fight for them. She would tell him she’d fallen for him and he better get used to having her around. She would shout and curse and stomp until he figured out she was worth it. That he was worth it.
If he showed up.
Almost afraid to look, Lucy glanced down at her watch. One minute. He had one minute to get here before she went with option B.
Paris.
She hadn’t based the decision solely on Matt, although claiming he had nothing to do with her moving to France would be a lie. Being in the same city with him, knowing she could run into him at any time and relapse into how she felt right now, would be counterproductive to getting over him. And getting over him would be her only option. Being a glorified boo
ty call did not work for her, particularly when it meant going behind her brother’s back. No, she couldn’t do it. Frankly, she was surprised Matt could. Another way she’d misjudged him?
Lucy felt a hint of panic creep into her stomach as the minute came and went, took a deep breath to calm her racing pulse. Conversely, her heart dulled in her chest, feeling heavy. France would not just be an opportunity to put this life-changing week with Matt in her rearview, it would be her chance to help provide for her family. To shift the load from Brent’s shoulders onto her own. To keep her parents comfortably retired in Florida. With the new baby coming, her brother would need all the help he could get, even if he would never say it out loud.
She thought of the phone call she’d received last night. They had offered her the job at the Met, right here in New York City. She could take it and stay. It would be a healthy enough salary to give her a start on her own and pitch in with her family. But at that moment, it occurred to her that this wasn’t her home any more. Hadn’t been in a long time. Friends had moved on, her family had flourished in her absence. She’d been here less than a week and she’d managed to jeopardize the friendship between Matt and her brother and convince Hayden to lie to Brent. Her leaving town could very well be the best decision for everyone.
What did she have keeping her here? Against her better judgment, she’d let herself consider that Matt might be a reason to stay. She recognized now the fantasy world she’d been living in. They’d been an extended fling, plain and simple. His expressive gray eyes appeared in her head, but she pushed them aside, even if the finality of the action caused her heart to wrench painfully.
Lucy glanced one more time at her watch, shocked at how much time had passed. Thirty minutes late. Could one be late if they never planned on coming in the first place?
She pulled her cell phone out of her purse and sent an email to her contact at the Louvre.
…
Matt threw his car in park at the curb and jumped out, Lucy’s itinerary still clutched in his hand. Late. He was late. Only by forty-five minutes, but he couldn’t shake the horrible feeling of dread pooling in his stomach. Had she waited for him?
He’d been called in early this morning, by the commissioner himself, to make a statement about yesterday’s explosion. Four goddamn times he’d repeated the same story for different levels of NYPD brass, without changing a single word. Then the paperwork had begun. By the time he’d finished, he’d glanced at the clock to find it was three o’clock.
He’d resolved to tell Brent this morning about his feelings for Lucy. Hell, he’d been eager to come clean. This afternoon was going to be his chance to claim her. To hold her, no barriers between them. Now he’d missed the most important part of her visit to New York. An event sixty years in the making and he’d fucking missed it. He couldn’t help but feel like he’d also missed his deadline to legitimize his relationship with Lucy.
Feeling sick at the thought, he picked up his pace, skirting past people strolling along the path. She would wait for him. Wouldn’t she? As much as he’d tried to resist her, this week had been the best of his life. When he was around her, some of her lightness seeped into him. But he needed her with him to feel it. It didn’t work when she wasn’t there.
The bench came into view and he slowed to a stop on the path. Empty. On the spot, he felt that same emptiness invade him. She’d left. She hadn’t waited. For a moment, he allowed himself to hope he’d made a mistake and this was the wrong bench, but as he drew closer, he saw the carved words and his hope evaporated.
It was possible she’d never come at all. He thought back to the odd expression on her face the night before when he told her he’d be at the bench this afternoon. The way she’d kissed him with such finality, as if saying good-bye.
Maybe after the way he’d revealed himself last night, telling her in explicit terms the power he wanted in their relationship, she’d made her choice. The right choice. The choice to live in the sunshine without him. He couldn’t blame her, even as his heart felt like it was splintering into a million tiny pieces. She would be happier this way. When it came to her, he didn’t get to be selfish. It didn’t matter that his brain chanted mine, mine, mine and urged him to turn the hell around and go find her, convince her to be his. He cared about her too much to do that. She deserved to be happy. And after last night, she must have realized happiness wouldn’t be possible with him. She might have temporarily enjoyed what they’d done physically, but in the end it had proven too much, just as he’d predicted.
Matt fell back onto the bench and traced the carving with his fingertips, mentally willing Lucy to sit down beside him. She wouldn’t. He knew that. But it didn’t stop him from picturing a different outcome. Her crawling onto his lap, telling him the story of her grandparents’ proposal. Her eyes sparkling up at him, fingers toying with the buttons of his shirt.
Pain hit him hard. Oh God, how was he supposed to function without her? Before Lucy, before he’d known the effect of her presence, his daily routine hadn’t seemed so bad. Now, the very idea of going through those same motions seemed pointless. Since meeting her, getting out of bed in the morning had stopped being a chore and started feeling vital. He’d had Lucy to take care of. Better, he’d had the privilege of seeing her, talking to her.
He hadn’t gone back to square one.
No, he’d sunk down further than that.
She doesn’t want me.
Muscles suddenly aching, Matt rose from the bench and walked away from the last physical reminder he had of Lucy, knowing no amount of time or distance would erase the memories.
…
Matt sat on the locker room bench staring at nothing. The last day had been even worse than he’d expected. He could feel every single thud of his heart, suffering along with him in his chest. Breathing continued to be an effort. In. Out. In. Out. He couldn’t remember driving to the station this morning or walking into the locker room minutes ago. His body had taken over out of self-preservation because it hurt to think.
When he heard Brent and Daniel enter the row of lockers, he didn’t even look up. He didn’t want to see them or talk to them. Didn’t want to hear about their happiness. And for the love of everything holy, he did not want to hear about their wedding plans. Under normal circumstances, he found that kind of talk insufferable. Today, it might send him over the edge.
Yeah right, as if you haven’t already gone sailing over the edge.
They both greeted him with grunts, which he returned without meeting their eyes. Matt suspected he’d never be able to look at Brent again without thinking of Lucy. Oh, God. Simply thinking her name felt like a spike being driven into his sternum. Trying to distract himself, he stood and opened his locker. Thankfully, his friends were relatively quiet for once, allowing him to dress for his shift without their usual ribbing of one another.
Behind him, Brent flung open his locker door, letting it slam against the one beside it. Matt frowned, finally glancing at a perplexed-looking Daniel.
“Need a hug, man?” Daniel joked.
“I’m not in the mood today, pretty boy.”
Daniel didn’t press, but Brent thundered on as if he had. “Sometimes I wonder if women were just put on this earth to make men feel like assholes. Who’s with me?”
Daniel lifted an eyebrow. “You’re asking the wrong guy. Women are kind of my thing.” A slow smile spread across his face. “At least, they used to be.”
“Yeah, well, maybe you could have talked some sense into my sister.” Brent tossed his giant-sized sneaker into the back of his locker with a bang. “I certainly couldn’t.”
Matt went very still. “What happened? Is she okay?”
Brent shrugged jerkily. “She was physically fine when I dropped her off at the airport an hour ago. Mentally, it’s anyone’s guess.”
“Airport?” Matt choked out, fighting a wave of dizziness.
Brent slumped onto the bench, his irritation seeming to drain out of him. “I don�
��t get it. I’ve barely spent two seconds with the girl since she finished grad school, then she’s off to Paris.” He rubbed his forehead, oblivious to the fact that Matt’s knees were nearly buckling in front of him. “Fuck. Did I give her the impression that I don’t want to hang out with her?” His eyes closed on a frustrated sigh. “She called herself a nuisance.”
Matt had been holding his badge. Now, it clattered on the ground. He fought the urge to grab Brent and shake him. “Nuisance,” he enunciated. “She used that exact word?”
The day of the water balloon fight came back to him then in a tornado of words and color. If I ever hear of you calling yourself that again, I will find you wherever you are and make you sorry. That’s a promise.
Looking miserable, Brent nodded. “She said the position at the Louvre opened early…that it wouldn’t wait. I could tell she was lying. I know her. Something was up.”
Matt could hardly think over the furious pounding in his chest. Was this her way of sending him a message? If so, she’d taken a serious risk of him not getting it. Like Brent, he didn’t buy the story about the position opening early.
He sprang into motion, shoving his feet into shoes and slamming his locker door shut. Unable to think of anything but the consequences of not getting to Lucy before she boarded the plane, he gripped Brent by the shoulders. “Flight number. Terminal. Give them to me, now.”
“Why?” Brent’s brow puckered, but his friend knew him well enough that it only took a quick study of Matt’s face to determine exactly why he wanted to find his sister. “Oh Jesus, Matty. Are you fucking kidding me?”
“No. I need her.” He worked to steady his voice. “She belongs with me and I’m going to get her, with or without your help.”
“I can’t believe you’re making me kick your ass two days after you saved my life.” He threw up his hands. “Has to be done. It’s a rule.”
“Set in stone,” Daniel murmured, watching them closely.
Matt’s patience was rapidly deteriorating. “Look, you can try and kick my ass later. I’ll give you the first swing. But right now—”
Staking His Claim (A Line of Duty Novel) (Entangled Brazen) Page 16
