by Remy Blake
“You mean, you’re not a gold digging whore, who married my father for his money?” He spits out. “Probably sleeping with me to make sure you get what you want from the will, right?” Lucas’ words sting, like a slap in the face. I was prepared for all the backlash when I married Geoffrey, but coming out of Lucas’ mouth is a stab right in the heart.
Squeezing his face a little tighter, I whisper, “You should go,”
Naked, and suffocating in uncertainty, anger, and hurt, I watch him walk out of the room, and hear the front door slam as he leaves the house.
Hours have passed, and I’m unsure if Lucas is coming back. I’ve tried to call him, and his cell goes straight to voicemail. I spent the day working out how to figure this all out. I don’t have any other options but to be honest. About my relationship with Ryan, about the money, and more importantly about the affair. In perfect timing, Mr. Lenton called an hour after our fight, and I scheduled a meeting for tomorrow morning. I explained to Stan that he needed to give everything to Lucas, including all the old contracts stipulating my agreement with Geoffrey. It would be painful, but this is the only way I’ll feel free and happy, even if that means losing Lucas.
Needing comfort and a shoulder to lean on, I called Ryan back and explained it all. Through tears, and a refreshing moment of clarity, I admitted to Ryan that I’m in love with Lucas. I started from the beginning and told him the ‘new’ guy was Lucas, and that he was perfect for me. There was no judgement or any arguments from Ryan, I shouldn’t have been surprised; time and time again he’s shown me his love was unconditional. Offering to come over and keep me company while I wait, I decline and make plans to meet later; hopefully with Lucas.
I keep trying Lucas’ cell and get nothing. Calling John, I ask him to meet me out the front and take me to Lucas’ place. For fifteen whole minutes, my knees bounce like they have a nervous twitch. My palms are clammy and I pray to whatever God is out there that he’s at home. If this relationship is going to end, it’s going to end on my terms. Not like this.
The door is unlocked. I twist the handle and walk in without knocking. The house is dark and still. Quietly, I slip my shoes off one at a time, making sure not to wake Lucas if he’s asleep. Peeking in every room, I finally make my way to the bedroom. The door is slightly ajar and a low light peeks through into the hallway. Leaning on the door handle, I see Lucas sitting at the top of his bed, with a beer bottle in hand. The glare from the TV, the only light in the room. He turns his head finally noticing me in the doorway. Interrupting the silence, I push the door open further and listen to it creak. “Hey,” I say in a hushed tone. He tips his head up in my direction, acknowledging my presence. Being this close to him and not being able to touch him is killing me. We’ve been together every second of every day this last week, and I don’t know how I’m going to manage him being away at school, or not being with him at all. Slowly walking toward him, I watch his eyes follow me. The darkness hides his usual easy to read expression, I have no idea what I’m walking into.
“Lucas. We need to talk,” I say firmly, but softly. He turns his head back to the TV. Fuck this.
I climb onto the bed and make my way to him. Propping myself up on my knees, one on each side of his thighs, I make sure my breasts are in his direct line of sight and I take off my shirt. I can hear his breathing quicken. At least we’re finally getting somewhere.
Unclipping my bra, I pull each strap down my arms and throw it to the side of the bed. I reach for Lucas’ free hand and place it on my breast, holding his hand there, as he slowly squeezes.
“Lucas, Talk to me.”
18
Lucas
“I don’t know what you expect me to say, Charlotte.” She winces at my use of her full name, but I’m too pissed off to feel bad about it. I pull my hand from the perfection of her tits. I don’t need any distractions. “You’ve shared nothing about your life with me.” I rake my teeth over my bottom lip. “What am I supposed to think when a guy calls you baby girl?” I tip my beer bottle back and down the final gulp. I’ll take all the help I can get for this conversation. I’m sure this isn’t going to be what I want to hear. “Get dressed, Charlie,” I order, guiding her off my lap. Moving to the edge of the bed, I glance over my shoulder at her. “I’ll be in the living room if you want to talk to me.”
My hand closes around the cold bottle as I pull it from the state of the art stainless steel fridge my mother recently purchased. I pop the cap with the opener on the granite countertop and take a sip while I silently walk on bare feet toward the living room.
When I was a kid I used to pretend I was a ninja and try to make as little noise as possible. Sometimes I wish I could go back to the simplicity of those days. Anything was possible and life hadn’t kicked me in the teeth yet.
I sink down on the black leather couch and stare out the large windows toward the darkness of the stormy gray sky in the distance. The sky reflects my mood tonight and general state of being. I tip my head back and enjoy the taste of the ice-cold beer on my tongue. If I was a color, I’d be gray. It’s nondescript and borderline depressing on its own. It’s only when you have other colors around it that it takes on some life. Kind of like me and Charlie. I’m stoic and cold on my own, but around her, I feel alive; like the luckiest guy in the world. Fuck, I hope I don’t have to go back to being alone. It would be so much worse now after experiencing what my days are like with her by my side.
Charlie sits down on the couch next to me, her back braced against the arm. Her eyes burn into the side of my face as I continue to stare out the window into the large back yard.
“Lucas, are we going to talk or should I leave?”
My eyes briefly flick to her, before returning to the view outside. “I don’t know. I guess that depends on whether you feel like telling me what the fuck is going on.” She flinches at my tone of voice. I run my hand down my face and try to regain control of my temper. It usually takes a lot to get me this worked up. Charlie has managed to get under my skin.
“Ryan and I have been best friends for years now and we’ve also enjoyed a friends with benefits relationship.” She pulls her bare feet up on the couch and wraps her arms around her legs. “There’s never been anything more than friendship and sex with us and there never will be. Neither one of us have ever wanted more.”
Was she fucking this dude the whole time she was married to my dad?
“Ryan and I didn’t sleep together when I first married your father. I was loyal to him.” She answers my silently asked question then rests her head down on top of her knees hiding her face from me.
I can tell by her actions she has something important to tell me and she’s worried. When I hook my hand behind her leg and wrap it around her ankle she lifts her head and stares into my eyes.
“I need to tell you something I know will be difficult for you to believe.” Her blue eyes are large in her oval face as she nervously chews on her lower lip.
“Tell me Charlie. It’s okay,” I persuade. She drops her head down for a moment and her long blonde hair falls forward shielding her face. “Look at me Charlie,” I coax.
She shakes her head slightly. “I’m afraid to. I can’t bear to see hate in your eyes when you look at me.”
“Now you’re being ridiculous; I could never hate you.” Her head raises, her eyes sparkling with a sheen of tears.
“Two and a half years ago, I walked in on your father fucking his best friend, Tom.”
What?
“I came home early from a girl’s weekend away and they were going at it on our bed.” She looks at me, before continuing. “When I confronted your father about it he said they’d been in love for years, but neither one of them wanted to deal with the fallout of it becoming public knowledge. Instead, they’d clandestinely meet up whenever they could in out of the way restaurants and tiny hotels off the beaten path.”
My fingers tighten on the forgotten bottle of beer. How can this possibly be true? My dad wasn’t gay
. Hell, before he met Charlotte he was always chasing pussy.
“Geoffrey and I had a huge fight. I was upset he married me to provide a front for their relationship; that I wasn’t the person he really wanted to be with.” She wipes a tear from her cheek. Is she really upset or is she that good of an actress?
My head is in a fucked-up place. I’m starting to question everything I’ve ever known and it’s a horrible feeling.
“He told me he wouldn’t stop seeing Tom and I told him I wanted a divorce. He refused, said I was being well compensated for being his wife and we barely spoke from that day on. We never shared a bed again and were only together when we absolutely had to be.”
I shake my head. I just can’t believe my dad and Tom were in love. No fucking way. My mind spins as I think about all the times I’ve been around the two of them together. Were there signs I somehow missed? Tom is the father of my best friend Murph; wouldn’t one of us have noticed the signs of more between them?
“When your father wouldn’t divorce me, he told me I could have a lover if I was discreet. Ryan and I picked up where we left off and we’ve been sleeping together ever since. But now that you and I are involved obviously, that’s over.”
But is it? Are they over? Maybe she’s in love with him and this is all some sick game they play to get their kicks. I shove my fingers through my hair and push it out of my eyes. Why do I feel like I’m seeing her clearly for the first time and what I’m seeing isn’t good? My eyes shift to study her. She’s nervously picking her red nail polish off. Is being with me just a game to her? Did she and Ryan plan this out the moment my father died?
I tip the bottle of beer back and suck down the rest, before slamming it down on the coffee table. My anger increases with every second that passes. I clench my fingers into fists and squeeze my eyes shut; it doesn’t help. Nothing can make me forget what I just heard about my father.
“Lucas,” Charlotte’s hand on my arm has my head swinging in her direction, “Are you okay?” Her expression of concern pisses me off more. I turn and slam my lips down on hers. My tongue is rough as I explore her mouth, my fingers wind into her hair, tipping her head back. We stay connected while I deftly undo her jeans, tugging them downward. She raises up, helping me and moans into my mouth when my fingers trail through her wet slit to circle her clit. I’m going to bury myself in her tight heat and forget about everything else. She shrieks when I flip her over to her stomach and pull her ass up in front of me. Goddamn, seeing her like this is a fucking dream come true and I’m going to fuck her until all this anger she caused goes away. I stand, shoving my sweats and boxers to the floor as fast as I can and lower to one knee behind her. I press the tip of my cock against her entrance and experience a moment of doubt. Should I be doing this with her? She’s the enemy right now. I brace myself with the foot still on the floor and thrust inside her dripping cunt, knowing this is the last time I’ll ever be with her.
“Fuck,” I groan as I slide back and push inside again. My teeth clench, my hips pick up the pace as I slam her pussy repeatedly. I take what I want from her and slip my fingers over her hip, to her clit. I’m going to make her come one last time so she never forgets what I can do to her. I rub my fingers back and forth over her clit never slowing the pace of my thrusts until she cries out her release. My hips jerk as I come with a shout. I lower my head to her back and place a gentle kiss between her shoulder blades, knowing that’s as close to a goodbye kiss as we’re going to get.
I should have realized what was going on. I’m an intelligent guy, but I sure as hell wasn’t using the right head to think. I let myself be drawn in by some porn star lips and a body that won’t quit but, what’s the payoff for her being with me?
I rise to my feet and turn to face her, still perched on all fours. “My father wasn’t in love with Tom. I spent time with both of them and there was never any sign of anything more than friendship. Why would you make something like this up?” I shout the question at her. I’m angry and hurt that she would do this to me and ashamed I fell for her caring act. I should have known she wouldn’t really be interested in someone my age. “I want you to get dressed and leave, Charlotte. I want you to go and never come back,” I grit out the words through clenched teeth. My heart rapidly pounds from the profusion of emotions racing through me. I pick her jeans up off the floor and throw them to the couch in front of her.
She scrambles to sit, her eyes wide, mouth open, still acting innocent in all this. She’s such a good little actress. I’ve got to give her props for her commitment to seeing this thing through, even though there isn’t a prayer that I’m going to forgive and forget.
I tug my sweatpants on. “Charlotte, I told you to leave. Go.” She jumps up from the couch and steps toward me. “Don’t come any closer.” I command.
“But, Lucas…”
“I’m done Charlotte. You know where the door is.”
She hastily pulls her pants on.
“I’ve never lied to you, Lucas,” she whispers before turning and walking away. I stand in place, my hands on my hips and my head falling forward. I made it almost nineteen years without falling in love. Why did she have to be the one?
19
Charlotte
It’s been three long weeks since everything fell apart. I knew there would be some hesitation when it came to believing what I had to say about Geoffrey. Hell, I even had trouble believing it when I saw it with my own eyes, but I never thought Lucas would think I was lying. As the story tumbled out of my mouth, I watched his eyes change from confusion, to disbelief, and then they settled on downright furious. The last time Lucas touched me will always be tainted with Geoffrey’s secrets and betrayal. Lucas was rough and unhinged. Blinded by passionate rage, his anger rose with every thrust, and I submitted. Shouldering the responsibility of both our broken hearts, I took the pleasure wrapped in pain. With every brutal stroke, I took his love, I took his hate, and I took his hurt. By the time, he placed a soft kiss in the middle of my back I knew anger had won this round. There was no calming the storm. His walls were up and everything we shared was shattered. I couldn’t regret our time together and I didn’t feel bad for finally telling him the truth. He had to know. There was no way I could keep that secret any longer. Lucas needed an explanation as to why Geoffrey left me everything, and I was sick of lying. Deception had been part of my life for so long, I wanted to be rid of it. I deserved better and so did Lucas.
Spending a week with Lucas opened my eyes to so many things; now I can finally see the bigger picture. I heard the way he spoke about his parents. The loneliness that laced his voice was painfully obvious and there was no way I was going to be part of anything that made him feel worthless or unloved; even at the expense of our relationship. Whatever Geoffrey’s reasons were for not telling me about Lucas are now buried with him, but like everything else his father did, I’m almost certain it was motivated by selfishness and money. The irony is that Lucas now thinks that’s how I am and how I’ve always been. I prepared myself for backlash once people found out he and I were together. The name calling after I married Geoffrey would be a mild version of what was in store for Lucas and me. What I didn’t expect, was for his thoughts to echo every potential insult. The accusation that I’m motivated by the dollar is something I’m unfortunately used to. Being made to feel worthless and insignificant by Lucas, is something I never dreamed I would endure. Do I regret him? Never.
Every kiss, touch, tear and smile has been worth it. He may hate me now, but maybe one day he can look back on our time together and know it was real and we were happy. Two lonely souls, finding comfort and love in the unlikeliest of places, he's everything I didn't know I wanted. Every day proving to be a rollercoaster of emotions. I hate him. I love him. I miss him.
The day after our fight, I went to Mr. Lenton’s office and signed everything over to Lucas. I wrote him two letters. The first detailing every dollar I had and no longer wanted. I made sure Stan verified every piece of inform
ation by showing him the iron clad agreement between Geoffrey and I. The one drawn up after I found out about the affair. Seeing his father’s signature on the dotted line would be painful, but it was the only way I could guarantee he knew where I stood in all of this. The second letter was a typical love letter. Wearing my heart on my sleeve, I admitted the marriage to his father was one of the many mistakes in my life, but it brought me to him. Lucas Rockwell was never a lapse of judgement, loving him was the most honest thing I’d ever done. My heart had broken so many times before. I now knew what the difference was between everyone that came before, and him. Lucas changed me. Unexpectedly he erased the insecurities of my past, showed me what it was like to be loved unconditionally and live in the moment. Being with him was the happiest I’ve ever been. While the way we ended was unfortunate, and yet somehow unavoidable, a part of me is hoping for him to make contact after reading the letter. I’ve accepted each day of silence is a reminder he and I are really over. Unintentionally, we both hurt each other, and even if we ever got back together the same issues remain. I can’t change what happened with Geoffrey, any more than he can change what he said to me, when he was fueled by anger. Knowing that Lucas had to return to school, I doubted any sort of reunion, anytime soon. Combined with the temptation of girls his age, and that he was no longer a virgin; there was a very good chance he had forgotten all about me and was sinking himself into a different pussy every night. I was older and I was complicated, two things that don’t necessarily make a relationship sound appealing. Purposefully, I left my details with Mr. Lenton and told him to pass them onto Lucas, whenever he spoke to him next. Every day, I checked my phone for a message or call from him. Every day there was nothing.
