“Yes?” the receptionist says.
“Luke Winter. Here for Dr. Borys,” he says in a robotic voice, still staring at me.
“Ok. There’s a bit of a wait, but he’ll see you as soon as he can.”
In a daze, Luke wanders over. “What are you―”
“Mrs. Smith?” A woman with a clipboard says, “Dr. Borys can see you now.”
I help my mom up and walk by Luke, avoiding his intent gaze. “My mom’s just seeing the doctor.” I feel like sinking into the floor and disappearing, but, luckily, we’re in Dr. Borys’s office in no time.
“Meredith,” the tall, grey-haired man addresses my mom with a weak smile, “What brings you in today?”
“She had another episode,” I tell him.
Then, we go through the motions. He suggests alternatives, programs, AA meetings – as if either of us really think she’ll actually listen this time. As Dr. Borys drones on and Mom nods her head as if she’s really going to change, all of us know she never will.
As we leave the office, just as we have countless times before, I wonder how long it’ll be before we’re back . . . Before Mom’s calling me in the middle of the night again. Still, I thank Dr. Borys. As he offers us his weak smile, I almost see a twinge of pity.
Outside, Luke is gone, nowhere to be seen. I’m glad. I’ve had enough pain today.
***
I call another taxi to get Mom home. There, I make her another sandwich and give her the offer I always do: to meet up for lunch every weekend, to go to AA meetings with her – anything. She nods without saying anything, smiles valiantly, nibbles on my sandwich. She bids me to go, and so I do.
Luke isn’t at home either, thankfully. I can just make a beeline to my room, collapse on my bed, and fall fast asleep.
Chapter Ten - Luke
I skip out on work and spend the day walking through the mall. First floor, round the loop, up to the second floor, then the third. It helps calm my mind for some reason. Normally, I’d just call one of my usuals and blow off steam. That usually does the trick. But today, Emma will be there and I don’t want to face her after this morning. Not yet.
I glance at my phone. My ex has texted me: “You remember what’s happening this afternoon, right?”
I text back, “Yes,” then hurry outside to my car. I’ll have to pick up Parker soon.
My ex has some banquet thing she’s going to this afternoon, so she’s having me take him. Sure, I help her out way more than she helps me out, but a few extra hours out of my week to pacify the crazy woman is fine with me. Besides, I have big plans for Parker and I today.
At school, Parker is pleasantly surprised to see me. “Dad!” he whoops.
His smile is infectious, and I find myself grinning too. This is just what I need. Once we get home, I tell him.
“We’re going to fly a kite in the park today.”
Another one of those endearing whoops, then, suddenly, his face goes solemn. “Can Emma come?”
Of course, at the worst possible time, Emma walks into the kitchen.
“Emma! Emma!” Parker cries, tugging at her bare arm. “Come fly a kite with us!”
Emma still looks sleepy – a bit confused. She shoots me a questioning look, and I shrug. “Sure,” she says, “Just let me get some proper clothes on.”
As Parker cheers, I can’t help but notice how her little tank top and boxers are struggling to contain her curves. Maybe her coming isn’t such a bad thing after all.
A few minutes later, we’re all packed up in the car, driving to the park.
“Have you ever flown a kite before, Emma?” Parker asks.
“No,” Emma says. “My Mom and Dad, I . . . we didn’t do much together when I was a kid.” Her voice has a sad tone to it, but when I turn to look at her, she’s turned away from me, looking out the window.
The park is thankfully pretty empty. The sun is out and the wind is considerable. It’s a perfect kite-flying day, essentially. So, I unfurl the rainbow kite I got from Costco, pass the handle to Parker, and we get going. At first, it’s tricky, getting the wind to pick up the colorful piece of canvas, but once it’s up, man is it up. Parker races back and forth, laughing and beaming and whooping while the kite whooshes all around. Emma and I can’t help but laugh at the sight of my giddy son racing every which way, his head craned back so far it looks like he might topple over.
After about an hour of this, Emma and I have settled on the ground while Parker has all but worn himself out. Coming to a stop in front of us, he says, “Dad, I’m tired.”
“Ok,” I say, getting up and hugging him, “You want a break?”
Sagging onto the ground, he responds. “I’m hungry.”
So, I pick the little tired-out kid up and we set off for the car, Emma not far behind.
The drive home is nice. The radio’s on, Parker and Emma are chatting in the back, and my window’s open. As we drive along, the sky is going gray, the clouds blocking out the sun. Suddenly, the song changes to rap, gunshots and all. Before I know it, I’m back there.
We hear far-off gunfire. Not aimed at us. They’re running, looking every which way, seeing nothing. Carl steps on it first. It’s quiet, the explosion. One minute he’s there, the next he’s torn to bits and pieces. Raoul is next. His face is already twisted with the knowledge of what’s coming: fear. Then, he, too, is nothing but ash.
My foot is slamming on the brakes. My hand is twisting the wheel to the side.
“LUKE! LUKE!”
I’m back in the car. It’s Emma who’s yelling. The car is off on the shoulder of the road. I pulled over this time, at least.
“Luke, are you ok?” Emma’s asking. She opens the car door.
“I’m fine,” I say. “Get back in the car.”
She does so and Parker groans. “Not again, daaaad.”
I force a laugh, turn to smile at my little boy. “Sorry, buddy. Dad missed his appointment today, but we’ll get back home just fine.”
The rest of the ride home is silent. Even the few minutes waiting for Parker’s mom to pick him up are unbearably quiet, then tense. When she does finally come and he runs off with a hug and a wave, all that’s left is what’s unsaid.
“Do you want some time alone?” Emma asks.
I shake my head. Some time alone is the last thing I want.
We go to the family room and sit down on the couch as if everything’s normal. I can’t think of anything to say but the thing itself, so I do.
“I have PTSD.”
“Oh,” Emma says, and I continue.
“I’ve had it since I got back. Nightmares – flashbacks to when my friends blew up. I can’t get it out of my had. The doc says to give it time, but I’ve given it time. Girls, sex . . . It all helps.” I avoid her gaze, immediately regretting everything I just said. As if living with her hasn’t been awkward enough, now I had to go and randomly spill my guts.
“My mom’s an alcoholic,” Emma says quietly. “And I don’t know what to do.” Her words are teary and her hands are clenched into tiny fists. “She keeps getting worse and worse and . . . I’ve tried helping. I keep on saving her, but . . .”
Her gaze flicks to me, and she looks so miserable, I can’t help but throw my arms around her, hold her. “You can’t save someone who wants to die,” she states sadly.
I rub her back, nodding. “That’s what happened to my dad. He killed himself. After my mom ran off, he couldn’t take it. He drank and smoked and drank. One day, that wasn’t enough. He took a handful pills, went to sleep, and never woke up. I don’t know what happened to my mom.”
And, just as I’m cursing myself for this admission, Emma’s pulling back, staring into my face. “I . . . I always thought I was alone – some sort of freak for having such a messed-up family. For having a dad who abandoned us and a mom who couldn’t take it. Dad’s tried to patch things up over these past few years, but it can’t be done. He just wants to be left alone with Margot. I can see it every other time I
visit.”
I shake my head. “Emma, your dad does care about you. I can see it – he looks out for you.”
Now Emma pulls away, shaking her head fiercely. “I don’t want him to look out for me. I want him to be there for me. And he hasn’t been – not for years.”
The silence is heavy with what we’ve revealed, and yet strangely clear at the same time. I feel lighter.
Emma is slumped into me. She looks so sad, so vulnerable – I could take her right then. And yet, after what we’ve just told each other, it doesn’t seem right somehow. Not now. Not yet.
Chapter Eleven - Emma
The rest of the week is fun. I work every day, engaging with more students each passing day. Several times I get connected with Tanika, to our mutual pleasure. As far as Luke is concerned, after our little mishap and later heart-to-heart, he has backed way off. Now, he’s more like a friend than anything, listening to my tales of Margot’s craziness and my trip to Beirut while he shares his own war stories, the good and the bad. Parker is too cute for words. Every day, he rushes around the house until he’s found me. When he gets picked up by his mother on Friday (I wait in my room, as that seems most prudent), I’m almost sad to see him go.
As the night goes on, however, Luke and I have fun. We watch nonstop BBC Planet Earth, laughing our heads off at all the dopey things the animals do. We gulp down five Caramilks together. Finally, curled up on the couch, it gets so hot that Luke takes off his shirt.
“Sorry,” he says apologetically.
I shrug. “It’s fine.” Although I can’t stop myself from a quick admiring look at his abs.
“So, you mentioned,” Luke was saying, “That you’ve never really gone out dancing with your friends. That all the places you’ve ever went to sucked.”
“Yeah,” I say.
“Well, I don’t know. I haven’t gone in a while and seeing my ex – not my favorite person – always puts me in a mood.”
“Oh,” I say, shooting him a sidelong glance to confirm that he does indeed look like he’s ‘in a mood.’ “What happened?” I ask, adding quickly, “If you don’t mind saying.”
Luke isn’t looking at me. He chuckles bitterly. “What happened is absolutely nothing. I mean, I never loved her. She was the longest relationship I’ve ever had – a few months – but only because I was getting over the flu and was too lazy to find anyone else. We never got along and still don’t. Then she had Parker, was determined to have Parker. Even if I didn’t love her, I had to do the right thing. I had to be in my son’s life. But, no, I never loved her. I only barely endured her at the best of times.”
“Oh,” I said.
Luke moves so that he’s right next to me, our legs brushing against each other. “I know it sounds stupid – ridiculous, even – to be with someone you can hardly stand . . . But I used to work a lot. I didn’t have much time for . . . No, that’s not really it.” He shakes his head. “I guess if I’m not going to be full of shit, then I’ll have to admit that I don’t really get along with a lot of girls . . . Or a lot of people, for that matter. I don’t know. I mean, they’re easy to talk to and be with, but as far as actually spending a lot of time, actually getting me . . .”
His face still irritated-looking, he rises, glancing at me. “What I was saying before was . . . Would you – I mean, I totally understand if you don’t want to – but would you want to go out dancing with me? Just for an hour or so? We can leave as soon as you want,” he adds before I can answer him.
I stare at the frozen image of the seals on the TV screen. The same BBC Planet Earth episode I’d seen probably around five times now, the one I was actually starting to get secretly bored of just now. Besides, after what Luke said, I almost feel bad for him. “What club?” I ask.
Luke grins. “Tamika’s – you’ve probably passed it by? It’s a pretty chill place – a cool, slightly older crowd. There’s good music and lots of real dancing, not just the grinding you see at those Top 40 places.”
I shrug. “I’m not really a big dancer, though.”
Luke shrugs in return. “It’s more to blow off steam than anything. You can just sit the whole time if you’d rather do that. But, again, I don’t want to pressure you.”
When I glance at him, Luke’s not looking at me. He’s on his phone. The whole idea is harmless enough. Luke’s clearly calmed down from when I first got here, too. Why not? “Ok,” I say, “Let me just change into something that doesn’t resemble pajamas.”
Luke whoops then pumps his fist in the air. “This is going to be a great night – you’ll see!”
And, as I walk up the creaky attic steps, it strikes me that something tells me that too.
***
I choose 4-inch stilettos and a shiny metallic dress. It’s tight and I’ve never worn it before, but screw it. I’m going out for the first time in months and I could use a little pick-me-up tonight.
As soon as I walk into the room, Luke rises. “Wow, I . . .” He looks away, and I wonder if I’ve made a mistake. “Emma . . . Damn, you look . . . really good.”
“Thanks,” I say, shyly avoiding his intent stare.
“I mean it,” he says, his gaze snaking down to my shoes. “When you first mentioned your shoe obsession, I admit, I thought you were a little crazy. But if your other shoes are anything like these . . .” His voice trails off as I laugh.
“I don’t actually have that many shoes like these, to be honest. Most are practical.”
But it’s as if Luke hadn’t heard me. His gaze is still plastered on me. The awkwardness doesn’t last long, however, because soon we’re out the door and into Luke’s car, heading to this so-called “Tamika’s.” Despite hitting just about every red light, we get there fast enough. Which is good because the longer I spend with Luke, the more I’m wondering if this whole thing wasn’t a mistake.
He isn’t really doing anything, which is what makes my feelings all the more infuriating. Other than his gaping, hungry look when he was checking me out by the door, he’s been acting the same to me as he had before: kind, courteous, like a friend. Could I have been imagining that he was flirting with me? Had he really been so little attracted to me that when I refused him, he could just drop it easily, just like that?
When we arrive at the black-walled box-like place, music and people are already spilling out of the door. Luke, however, takes my hand and strides past the long line of scantily-dressed people all the way to the front. Ignoring the protests, he stops in front of the big beefy bouncer.
“Jules.”
The bouncer’s wide face breaks into a toothy white smile. “Luke, my man. You come right on in” His gaze flicks to me and he nods. “And your lady friend too.”
And then Luke’s saying “Thanks man” and pulling me into the dark room. Multicolored lights flicker all around us, lighting up parts of people: a man’s fingers looped through his belt buckles, a woman’s too-big lips, a man’s biceps, Luke’s gaze. It’s on me, but then the light flicks away and my eyes adjust. We’re at the bar.
“Want a drink?” Luke asks, but I shake my head. I sit down on the stool while he orders. He talks to a hot blonde bartender who returns his easy smile and laughs at something he said. A quick look around reveals that a good amount of the girls around us are giving him interested looks. Suddenly, I feel ridiculous for wearing my try-hard metallic dress and sky-high shoes – for thinking Luke could ever be seriously attracted to me. I feel like melting into the stool and disappearing entirely.
But when Luke’s got his beer in hand, although the hot bartender is still lingering at the counter by him, he turns to me with a smile.
“Let me just down this so I can get some liquid courage for our dancing.”
I manage a weak smile and nod. Let’s see how long Luke actually sticks with me.
The longer we sit there, and the more girls gravitate towards us, the angrier I feel with Luke. For him bringing me here as some kind of sick joke – as some kind of revenge plot for me getting a
ngry at him a few days ago.
When we finally arrive on the dance floor, I can hardly make myself move. A girl whose high-waisted shorts expose her bare ass starts grinding on Luke from behind. He pauses and turns. I walk away. I’ve had enough. I’m not going to stand here and watch Luke have dance floor sex with some random girl.
He grabs my arm and says, “Emma, where are you going?”
I whirl around to face him. “I’m leaving. You want to hook up with one of these random girls,” I sweep my arm around the room, where there’s still a few of them watching him like piranhas, “be my guest. But I’m not going to stand there like a big metallic idiot and watch. No thank you.”
Luke’s brow creases. “What the hell are you talking about, Emma? That girl on the dance floor – I moved away as soon as I realized what she was doing. Then, when you walked away, I followed you. That’s it.”
As I stare at him skeptically, he takes my hand. Leaning in, he whispers, “Ok. So, maybe coming here just to blow off steam wasn’t the complete truth. But you can’t blame me for wanting to spend some time with you away from Planet Earth, now can you?” His face looks earnest and already he’s pulling me back to the dance floor, back to the rotating disco ball and the pulsing bodies. “Just one song.” His warm breath is urging my ear. “Just one song, and if you still aren’t having fun, then you can leave.”
It seems like a fair enough deal. Until I get on the dance floor, that is.
***
Everything is on Luke’s side. The sardine-packed bodies, wriggling and rubbing themselves all over each other, the uumph-uumph beat urging everyone on, the disco lights that have my mind flickering all over the place with them.
Luke and I are dancing close; there’s no other way to dance here. We are possessed by the beat, controlled by it. The beat brings us together: his hands on my waist, my hands around his neck. When the light flickers over his face, he’s wearing an expression that I don’t recognize. One that scares me.
His gaze meets mine, flicks to my lips. Now the beat has Luke turning me around, burrowing my hips and ass into his crotch until we’re one movement, one pulse, one beat. I can feel him against me.
Shattered Daddy: A Billionaire Suspense Romance Page 24
