Back Where We Belong (A Second Chances New Adult Romance)

by Hart, Alana

  I can't believe my father invited him. They prattle away about business. There's nothing I can say to add to their talk about mergers and acquisitions. My father knows that. I'm sure he knew how the conversation would go, and he still invited Luke to gatecrash our lunch.

  But why the hell did Luke accept the invitation? Is he really interested in making a business acquaintance of my father or does he just want to torment me?

  Maybe he just wants to show me he's made it in business because I didn't believe he would. There must be some satisfaction in that. He doesn't seem the least bit bothered that he ran out on me.

  I tell myself I hate him but I can't help looking at his hands. He's not wearing a ring. It figures. No one would pin him down long enough.

  I'm stewing a bit in my seat. I only see my father once every six months and he uses the lunch as an excuse to get to know Luke.

  “So how are things with you, Madison?” Luke asks after ten minutes of pure business talk. At least he has better manners than my father on the surface.

  “Okay,” I say.

  I'm just going to be civil and get lunch over with, and that will be that.

  “You still at college?”

  “No. I'm working at an art gallery.”

  “No exhibitions of your own?”

  For some reason, I'm pleased he remembered that I wanted to paint.

  “No. I'm just taking a few classes.”

  “I didn't know that,” Dad says.

  He doesn't usually ask much about me. But I'm sure I mentioned the classes once or twice. He probably wasn't listening. He's often got half an eye on his phone screen over lunch.

  Dad asks Luke a question about some company or other then, and they go back to their business talk. This is the lunch from hell. I wish it was over.

  And then we have eaten, or at least they have, and I have done the best I can to make it look like I have been eating. Dad says he must be going, and I know lunch is over, and for some reason, I'm sad. The ordeal will be over, but Luke will walk away again. And it has stirred up all those memories that should have stayed buried where they were, firmly in the past, with a big “Do Not Disturb” sign posted on them.

  “Here you go, Madison.” Dad hands me the usual envelope, my 'payment' for being his daughter for another six months.

  “Thanks,” I say, a lump in my throat. We talked a little going down in the elevator from his office and that was about it. Six months conversation in five minutes.

  “I'll get the check.” He’s just going to go back to his office, and that will be that.

  “Allow me,” Luke says. “It would be my pleasure. I can give Madison a ride if you need to get back. I have a car waiting.”

  “Thanks,” Dad says, “and I'll be in touch about the Higson deal.”

  A good lunch for him then. Business conducted. He kisses me on the cheek, shakes Luke by the hand and leaves.

  He leaves me with Luke.

  I don't know what to say. My heart is thudding as if I'm in real danger. It's ridiculous. The silence hangs over us. I have to say something.

  “What happened to your face?” I blurt out. Shit! Did I really ask that? How rude is that? I can feel myself blush. But it's the only thing that came into my mind other than ‘Why did you leave me like you did,’ and I can't ask that.

  CHAPTER 31

  LUKE

  I make it a point to be well-prepared for every meeting. My day doesn't usually hold many surprises. But when I got in the car this morning, the last thing I expected was to be sitting here across the table from Madison at any point in the future, never mind by lunchtime.

  I should have left her sitting there with her father. That would have been the rational thing to do. Or not accepted his invitation in the first place. But somehow, I couldn't just let Madison walk out and not know why she left me without a word.

  I pride myself on being able to read people, on being able to understand their strengths, their weaknesses, their motivations. I'm convinced it's what makes me as successful as I am.

  But I got it badly wrong with Madison back then. Badly. It bugs me how I could have been so wrong about her.

  I was just about to make some cutting remark when she asks me about my scar.

  “How the hell do you think I got that?” I didn't mean it to come out quite like that. I can tell she's taken aback by my tone. I've been so polite to her so far. Holding it all in. But she has to know. You don't have a serious fucking car accident and come out totally unscathed. You can guess, even if you don't bother to turn up to see the guy you decided to leave in hospital and discover the bandage on his face.

  “Did you get into a fight?” she says.

  “No, Madison, I didn't get into a fight.”

  “Well, what then?”

  “From the accident.”

  “What accident?”

  Either she's suddenly become a really good actress, or she really doesn't know. I'm starting to think she didn't find out about what happened to me. She never could hide her emotions. Or I thought she couldn't when I was with her.

  “The one I had that summer going home from your house. After your mother found us.”

  She's speechless for a moment. She didn't know. She left me anyway. But she didn't know. I'm not sure that feels any better.

  “You had an accident? A serious accident?”

  “I was in a coma for a couple of months, in rehabilitation after that.”

  “Oh, my god. I didn't know. Mom made me go back to Greenwich the next morning before I could get to see you. I sent you a message. I called you. You never got back to me. I didn't know.”

  “Couldn't you have asked my family?” She gave up on me so easily.

  “I called the restaurant. I spoke to a waitress. No one said anything. It sounded like I was just another girl chasing you like all the others.”

  “You were never like the others.” I reach out for her hand. She snatches it away as if she’d touched a red-hot stove. What did I do?

  “Sorry,” she says.

  What was that all about? Maybe she's with someone now. I can't believe how much that idea hurts now I know she didn't mean to leave me.

  “You have someone else?” I have to know.

  “No.”

  Neither of us says anything. I think it's all just sinking in how much we lost. I lost months of my life, and I lost Madison. There's no going back. We've both moved on. But have we really? Neither of us has anyone else. There have been women since the accident, I'm no fucking monk, but no one like Madison.

  CHAPTER 32

  MADISON

  I'm stunned by Luke's revelation. I can't help thinking if none of that had happened, if we hadn't broken up like that, I'd still be the person I was that summer before I went to college and my life was ruined. But now, I don't know. Nothing can be the same. I'm not the same.

  His phone vibrates. He doesn't even glance at it. He just switches it off.

  “So, Madison,” he says. “Fate created a huge big fucking mess of that!”

  He doesn't know the half of it. Not even a quarter.

  When I get out of here I know I'm going to look up everything about Luke online, but I've got to get out of here. It's too intense the way he's looking at me. I can't take that just now. I want to leave but I don't see how I can just slip out. The exit is only six tables away, but I can't just walk out on Luke, can I? I feel trapped.

  “I think I need a drink.” He calls over the waiter and orders Bourbon.

  “What would you like?” he asks.

  “Just water, please.”

  “Nothing stronger?”

  “No, I don't drink much these days.” Fact is, I never drink alcohol. My friends, those who haven't given up on me altogether, have stopped trying to persuade me. But not drinking doesn't really matter at the places I go. I don't go to parties or bars or clubs. Nowhere dark and crowded and full of men.

  Luke doesn't insist or question me. I like that.

  “Do I m
ake you nervous?”

  “A bit.” I can’t deny it. It must be obvious, but I hope he thinks that's just because I haven't seen him in so long.

  “Even though we know each other so well?”

  “That was a long time ago. We probably both changed.”

  “You look exactly the same. Even more lovely, if anything. Whereas I am damaged beyond repair.”

  “That scar suits you.” I can't bear to think of him as damaged like me. One of us is enough. “It's like nobody better mess with you.”

  “They don't,” he says. “I don't let them.”

  I wish I felt the same. One of these days I'm going to get out there and stop being scared of life, of everything. But for now it feels safer in my shell.

  “Let me give you a ride somewhere. You live here in New York?”

  “No, back home in Greenwich.”

  “Your own place?”

  “No, with my mother.” I pull a face. He must know how much I love that.

  “I didn't think you'd still be living with her.”

  I don't have an answer for that, not one I can give without opening up a whole can of worms.

  “I'll get my driver to take you back there.”

  “No.” That comes out far too sharply, but there's no way I'll get into a car with a guy I don't know. “I'll just get the train. It's easier. With the traffic and everything.”

  “Okay, I'll get him to take you to the station.”

  He waves over the waiter to pay, and I indicate I'm going to the rest room. I have to get out of there now while Luke is preoccupied. There's no way I'm getting in that car, and I can't tell him why. It's as if I can't talk about anything going on in my life without going into what happened. It's better for him to forget me, even though I know I'll never be able to forget him.

  No one notices me slip out.

  CHAPTER 33

  LUKE

  After fifteen minutes I know Madison is not coming back. She must have left. What the fuck did I say to make her pull some crazy bitch stunt like that? I should just forget her. But I can't. There's something going on with her. I know there is. Why can't I just go for some woman who is easy and available? Who the fuck knows? Madison always brought out the protective streak in me. She's running scared. But from me? I can't believe that.

  When I get in my limo, I ask Paul, my driver, to go in the direction of Grand Central, but Madison probably took a taxi or something. It's like I just found her, then I lost her again. But now I know where she lives. With her fucking mother! I'll not let that witch put me off so easily this time.

  ***

  I'd like to give Madison's mother a piece of my mind. If Madison is acting weird, it's bound to be her who's at the root of it. But once I start thinking straight, I know going to the house and causing a fight to end all fights is not the smartest idea in the world. That really would scare Madison off. I'll have to think of something else.

  Impatient as ever, I end up asking Julia to rearrange my meetings for the next day and free up a few hours in the afternoon. I know I’m giving her a headache, but this can’t wait. Paul takes me on a tour of the art galleries around Greenwich. We drive around for over two hours but it seems like Madison vanished.

  Ridiculous waste of fucking time! I know it is. I should have just hired someone to find out where she worked. Simple enough job, given I know where she lives. But for some reason, I wanted to be the one to find her. And I wanted to find her today. It reminds me of looking for her five years ago and failing miserably. Failure is not an option these days. Not in a business deal, not in finding Madison.

  I know I'll have to come back to Greenwich another time, or find her some other way. But just as I'm telling Paul to head back to New York, I spot her coming out of a bakery. I get out of the car.

  “Luke!” She stops dead, her mouth open.

  “Don't run out on me this time.”

  She blushes. “Sorry.”

  “Why did you run off?”

  “I don't know.”

  “You don't know? We just found out what happened back then and you thought I needed another Madison style mystery or something?” This is fucking nuts. But she just looks at me with her blue-green eyes and I want to know what's going on.

  “I just...can't.”

  “Can't, or don't want to?”

  “Can't.”

  “Come out to dinner with me.”

  “I can't.”

  “You can. We had lunch together. You can do dinner. Come to dinner with me.”

  “Now?” she says.

  “Not now. It's three o'clock in the afternoon. I thought seven or eight tonight might be a better time. More conventional. Course we could always eat it on the garage roof. You seem to like it up there.”

  She giggles. Fuck, that sound takes me back. First time I heard it since I saw her again. I'd love to make her giggle again for quite a different reason.

  “I can't tonight. There's an exhibition at the gallery.”

  “Coffee then? Now? I'll just come back if you don't say yes.”

  CHAPTER 34

  MADISON

  What else can I do? I'm going to have to tell him something to put him off coming again. But what? And do I really want to do that? I've been miserable since I ran out of that restaurant yesterday. Since I found Luke again and ran off. I'm such a coward these days.

  And part of me wants to move forward and stop fearing everything. I've got to move on and live my life. I can’t run away from everything forever.

  It was nearly five years ago and I've had enough of being closed off from so much that others take for granted. What harm is there in coffee? Though I can't stay long. The gallery is closed while we prepare for tonight, but I need to help out.

  So I give in and tell him I can manage a quick coffee. And when he gently takes my hand as if fearing I won't let him, I brace myself and don't pull my hand away. And...it's nice.

  He gets the coffee and we sit down facing each other.

  “How come you're living back home?” he says.

  “It was just easier with my job and everything.”

  “I remember your mother. It doesn't seem like the easy option to me.”

  “She's as bad as ever. I'm going to move out as soon as I get my own place. But I'm used to her, you know. She doesn't affect me like she used to.”

  “No?”

  I can tell he doesn't believe that. He probably thinks it's my mother who has changed me. It seems safer to let him think that.

  “You live in New York?”

  “I have a place just off Central Park. You'd like it.”

  “Wow! And to think I didn't believe you when you said you'd make billions.”

  “Only one,” he says. “Not billions in the plural, not yet. It's been hard work, not always fun, but interesting.”

  “How did you do it?”

  “Like I planned, really. My uncle taught me to buy and sell—everything he knew that built up his car business. I just applied it to bigger and bigger things. First cars, then real estate and now companies. I took risks. I almost lost everything. Twice.”

  “You nearly lost everything? How?”

  “Huge deals where I had to stake everything I had. I won't do that again. There's too much to lose now, and sometimes more is not better. More is only more.”

  “You've done well. That puts working in an art gallery to shame.”

  “Not if you like working in an art gallery. It just so happens that I like buying and selling—cars, houses, companies, it's much the same. I guess I like selling, doing deals, as much as you like painting.”

  “Except you're better at it.”

  “What do you paint?”

  “A bit of everything, mostly places around here. The harbor, the park. After I progressed from bowls of fruit. Michelle, my boss at the art gallery, suggested art classes, but she's not looking for bowls of fruit and landscapes for her gallery. Not usually anyway. She's always looking for something of the artist in th
e painting. Something unique. I haven't got there yet, but it's fun trying.”

  “If your paintings have something of you in them, I'll have to buy them all,” he says.

  “I'll churn them out when I find out how. And you might regret that. You won't have enough walls to put them on.”

  “I'll buy a mansion just for that,” he says, and I laugh. It's great to laugh with Luke again. “And when you paint enough to fill up the walls of that one, I'll have a bigger one built.”

  He takes my hand and squeezes it and I don't pull it away. I don't want to this time. It's not so difficult sitting in a cafe with Luke, talking about painting.

  “So Madison, are you going to let me take you out to dinner another time?”

  I want to see Luke again. I know I do. I've never been out to dinner with him. He was always working around that time. Dinner means going out at night, but perhaps it would be okay to go out with him to a busy restaurant. Somewhere close to home.

  “In Greenwich?” I ask.

  “Anywhere you like. Greenwich or Timbuktu. Doesn't matter. I'll pick you up on Saturday at eight. Your mother is going to love it when I turn up. I can't wait to show her my car.”

  “Oh! Is your other car really a Porsche now then?”

  “No, better, a Ferrari. I have a few but the Ferrari is my favorite.”

  I laugh.

  He walks me back to the gallery and holds my hand as we walk. It brings back nothing but good memories. I'm happy about that. I feel safe. I always felt safe with Luke all those years ago. When we get close to the gallery, I smile at him. “I work just along there. It’s a small place. There’s just me and my boss, Michelle.”

  “Nice gallery. I saw it earlier, but you weren’t there. It was closed. I went to all the galleries in Greenwich looking for you.”

  “You did? I was at the bakery sorting out the order for tonight. Vol-au-vents for the opening.” He went to a lot of trouble to find me. That makes me smile. “You could have just called my house.”