This was an easy answer. And next to impossible to deliver. “Trust me.”
Something short and quiet came from Jude’s end, but I didn’t catch it. Another few moments of nothing. I swear, half of this call had been in silence while one of us processed what the other was thinking. I suppose you could say we’d finally graduated from the Think Before You Speak Academy.
“Damn,” he said under his breath.
I totally got that response. “See why it was so hard for me?”
“Yeah. I’m starting to get why you turned into a crazy person back in the day,” he said, understating just what I’d become “back in the day.” Psychotic, rabid, shot-flames-from-my-nose lunatic would have been a more accurate description. “Okay, I’ll trust you. I will not trust him, or any other man who thinks it’s okay to take out an engaged woman alone on a lunch date. Not cool in my book.”
My smile wasn’t small any longer. I had Jude’s trust, even in a situation where he really didn’t want to extend it. “Is that some man rule I missed?”
“Man rule number two,” he said solemnly. “You don’t mess with another man’s woman. Ever.”
“And what’s rule number one?”
“Don’t mess with me.” From his tone alone, I knew that cocky half smile of his was in full bloom.
“Words to live by,” I said. “Although I think I’ve messed with you plenty.” In more ways than one.
“You, and only you, are the one exception to that rule, Luce.”
“Well, there’s an exception to every rule,” I said, realizing I was long past being rude, having been on the phone so long. “It’s been nice chatting, but I’ve got to get back to my—”
“Date.”
“Lunch,” I clarified. “I love you. Thank you for the call, the flowers, and the trust. I’ll give you a ring later tonight once Holly and little Jude are settled in.”
“Give Hol a hug for me. You’ve got the football for little Jude, right?”
“I will, and yes,” I answered.
“One more thing,” he said.
“Anything.”
“Put him on the phone,” he said, only partly teasing.
I groaned. “You can talk with him in person when you fly out, so I can monitor what you’re saying.”
“Ballbuster,” he muttered.
“Love you.”
“Love you, Luce.”
Ending the call, I gave Anton an embarrassed smile. “I’m sorry about that.”
He lifted his hand, waving like it was no big deal.
“No, really. I’m sorry.” My first day at work, and I’d just sparred with my fiancé on the phone for almost ten minutes at lunch. Not something that would guarantee me an employee-of-the-month plaque anytime in the near future.
“It was entertaining,” he said. “I don’t think I’ve seen that much drama since India forced me to watch the season finale of The Real World back when I was in middle school.”
I wasn’t sure if he’d intended this as a jab or as a joke, but it stung. It was none of Anton’s business, but I had to set the record straight. “Jude’s dramatic. I’m dramatic. Together we make a pretty big production.” Cutting into my Caprese salad, I took a bite. Food at last.
Anton finally dropped his spoon into his soup. A gentleman. Not exactly what I’d expected from a brother of India’s. “That sounds unhealthy.”
My brows came together. I wasn’t going to let a guy who thought ordering tomato bisque was living on the wild side tell me what was and wasn’t unhealthy.
“Maybe for you, but not for me.”
There. That was a way to roll up about an afternoon’s worth of explanations into one sentence.
“Forgive me for speaking my mind, but I am a Xavier,” he said. “How is controlling healthy for anyone?”
“Jude isn’t controlling,” I said, taking a breath. “He’s protective.”
“There’s a difference?” he asked, having a spoonful of soup. It was probably cold by now.
“Yeah, there’s a huge difference. Controlling is completely different from protective.” I was tempted to whip out my phone and go all Webster’s on his ass. “Jude’s protective of me because he knows exactly what kind of nasty crap is out there in the world and he doesn’t want me to ever experience it. And if I did, he’s both willing and capable of protecting me.” I tried to keep from sounding defensive. I liked Anton, but his questions were starting to bug me. “However, even though I know he wishes I’d let him do it, he lets me make my own decisions. The only person who controls me is me.”
Anton pursed his lips. “Controlling, protective, possessive. I’d lump all those into the same category,” he said, watching me. “Unhealthy.”
This guy didn’t know when to back off. Neither did I.
“What did you major in, in college?” I asked, hoping that if I tried a different path of explanation I could win the conversational battle.
“I doubled in political science and economics,” he said, seeming unfazed by my abrupt turn in conversation.
“Okay, so in political science terms . . .” I mused, rolling my fingers over the table. Lightbulb alert.
“Jude isn’t a tyrant. He doesn’t rule over me or expect that I obey his every word. He’s more like an adviser,” I explained. “An adviser who not only offers good advice but who knows how to kick ass if required to.”
Anton took a couple more sips of soup, stalling. “So you’ve got drama, he’s”—he purposely cleared his throat—“protective, and you can’t tell me exactly why you love him, just that you couldn’t not love him. Lucy, don’t slap me too hard, but that sounds like you’re smitten. Or infatuated. Not in love.”
Boy, I wasn’t catching a break this afternoon. From Jude to Anton, these guys were going to make me lose it. I inhaled and counted to five. It didn’t matter what Anton thought, nor did it matter what anyone else thought. I wasn’t going to let doubt back into my mind. I loved Jude. He loved me. He’d proven himself again and again, over the course of four years. I was through with doubt.
“We’ll have to agree to disagree,” I said, setting my fork down, because I was finished with lunch and this conversation. “We should probably get back.”
“Lucy,” he said, “I didn’t mean to offend you. I speak my mind, when most of the time I shouldn’t.”
“Because you’re India’s brother, my boss, and a pretty cool guy, I think we should make a pact to not speak about my relationship again.” I stared at him straight on. “Because I will not, for another second, let you try to put down what Jude and I have. You don’t understand us. That’s fine. You wouldn’t be the first and you sure as hell won’t be the last. But I can’t be your friend if you keep saying these things.”
“You can’t hear anything you don’t want to hear?”
“No, that’s not it. With Jude and me, we’ve been through more in four years than most couples would go through in four lifetimes together. I get that the odds are not in our favor. I also don’t care.” Wow, I was on a roll. Time to get off my soapbox before I slipped off and broke my neck. “I’m sick of hearing people tell us how not right we are for each other. Just because you don’t see it doesn’t mean we’re not true.”
Anton lifted his hands in surrender. Good call. “Fair enough. I think I can manage that.”
“We’ll see,” I said. I had my doubts about how Anton was going to “manage.”
THIRTEEN
My apartment sounded like a herd of rhinos had been set loose on it.
The little man was doing his namesake proud, hollering and grunting like a caveman. I’d had a long day at work, my feet were killing me, and I was exhausted, but I couldn’t get to my apartment fast enough.
It felt like forever since I’d had someone to look forward to seeing when I got home. So long since voices other than mine or the ones coming from the TV had filled my apartment.
Stopping in front of the door, I knocked. It felt a little strange knocking on my own f
ront door, until I heard the clop, clop, clopping of little caveman feet thundering toward the door.
“Aunt Luce is here! Aunt Luce is here!” Although Luce sounded more like Woose.
The door opened so hard it bounced against the wall. “Aunt Luce!”
I propped a hand on my hip. “Have you seen a little boy, sir? His name’s Jude, and he’s about this tall.” I held my hand out at his shoulder level. “His uncle Jude and I got him a present.”
“Aunt Luce, it’s me!”
“What? No way. You are way too big to be little Jude.”
He rolled his eyes. Not even four years old and the kid could manage a solid eye roll. No doubt he’d perfected that move from his mama. However, he was the spitting image of Sawyer, his father. So much so that when his face lit up with his smile, I forgot where I was and who was standing in front of me. “Mom says I’m growing like a weed, and I’m not little Jude anymore. I’m LJ,” he declared, standing a little taller.
“LJ, eh?” I said. “Says who?”
“Says Thomas,” he said, pointing back into the apartment.
A loud crash, followed by Holly firing off a string of, “Fudge, fudge, fudgity, fudge.” Sounded like I was needed.
“Is LJ too big to give those really good hugs of his?”
LJ gave this a moment’s thought before shaking that mop of golden brown hair. “Nah.”
I opened my arms and he dived right in. “Good. Because I’ve been dying for a good hug.” Planting a kiss on his cheek, I headed inside. “Are you already demolition-derbying my apartment?” I shouted over at Holly, who was furiously picking up Jude’s old football trophies that had toppled off their shelf.
“I’ve got a little boy who believes he’s a T. rex half of the time,” she replied, setting the last trophy back into place. “The question isn’t if this place will be demolished; it’s when.” Holly crossed the room, looking more frazzled than I’d ever seen her. I suppose traveling across the country with a little one would do that to a girl. “Are you sure you don’t want to rethink this, Lucy? It’s not too late, you know. I haven’t finished unpacking all our junk.”
“If you even think about leaving, I will literally tie you up and hold you prisoner,” I said, hugging LJ tighter.
Giving me a hug from the side, Holly mussed LJ’s hair. “Well, it’s your security deposit and sanity.”
Apparently two momlike girls fussing over him was his limit. Making a face, LJ squirmed out of my arms. “How was the flight?”
“It was a whole heck of a lot better than it could have been, thanks to my friend children’s Benadryl,” Holly said, watching LJ beeline for the kitchen. “Hey, give Thomas two minutes to himself.”
“Hey, Thomas! Didn’t have anything better to do tonight?” I called into the kitchen. I hadn’t noticed he’d stuck around after picking Holly and Jude up from the airport when I walked in, but Holly and LJ had a way of taking up a person’s attention.
Waving a spoon in the air, Thomas grinned. “I told Holly I’d hang around for a while and chill with LJ while she got settled in,” he said, right before LJ tackled his legs.
“Jude Michael Reed!” Holly shouted. Damn, she had the mom tone down so well I flinched. “If you don’t calm down and start acting like the sweet, good little boy I know you can be, poor Thomas will never come back to see us.”
Thomas’s eyes shifted to Holly, and even though they were dark brown, I would have sworn they went a little soft. Holly had already left an impression on him. He waved his spoon again. “I’ve got three little brothers, so I guarantee you there’s nothing he can do to me that hasn’t already been done.”
Turning off a burner, Thomas grabbed LJ and tossed him over his shoulder before galloping around the room in circles. The poor neighbors below us.
“So that’s your dance partner?” Holly said, watching the two of them charging and squealing around the room.
“That’s him.”
“I can see why Jude went ape shit when he found him undressing you,” she said, heading back toward her suitcase.
“That’s not exactly a revelation, Holly. Jude does, would, and will go ape shit on anything that remotely resembles a man who tries to help me undress.” I followed her and plopped down on the sofa.
“Yeah, but Thomas is cute,” she said, stealing a glance at him.
My brows came together. Thomas was good-looking in a beautiful kind of way. Dark, long hair, eyes almost as dark, and flawless alabaster skin. He was easy on the eyes and had caught the attention of more than the majority of female dancers at school, but their cute and Holly’s cute didn’t seem like they would have aligned. Holly was more on the same page as me: she liked the rough, rugged, raw, handsome, all-male type.
“You think Thomas is cute?” I asked.
“Don’t you?”
I shrugged, watching Thomas and LJ where they now wrestled on the ground. “Yeah. But—”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Holly interrupted. “He plays for the other team. That’s obvious. Look how thoughtful he is, how well he dresses, and how his eyes never wander below my neck.”
I was about to clarify Thomas’s sexual orientation when LJ went off like a fire alarm. I made a mental note to pick up some Excedrin next time I was at the store.
“Aunt Luce, is this for me?” he asked. Well, he yelled.
“LJ. Were you going through Aunt Lucy’s things?” Holly said as he sprinted toward us with a present in hand. Jude had even had it wrapped in yellow-and-blue paper.
“It was in her bedroom,” he said, turning the present over in his hands.
“What were you doing in her bedroom? I told you Lucy’s bedroom is off-limits.”
“I forgot to tell you,” I said, grabbing LJ and tossing him into my lap. “You guys are going to take my room and I’m going to be out here.”
“What?” Holly said, like she’d heard me wrong. “No. No way, Lucy Larson. We came on the understanding we’d inconvenience you, not straight-up displace you.”
Thomas crashed down beside me. His hair looked like it had been whirled around in a blender a few times.
“Will you listen to me for once, you stubborn brat? You and LJ are taking my room. He needs a quiet spot where he can sleep, and there are two of you. I already ordered a twin mattress and a couple room dividers to set up out here for me, so it’s done.” I arched a brow and waited. Holly liked to argue with me almost as much as Jude did.
What she did next, though, I wasn’t expecting. I’d been braced and ready for another five rounds of back-and-forth. Instead she threw herself down beside me and pulled me into a hug that was so tight it almost cut my airway off.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you and Jude.” She sniffed into my hair. I’d never seen her cry. In fact, I’d come to the conclusion she couldn’t cry.
“You’d be fine, Holly,” I assured her, just like either Jude or I did when she tried to give us more credit than we were due. Holly had crossed the proverbial Nile all on her own. Jude and I had just been there to provide a little help along the way. Patting her back a few times, I winked at LJ. “Well. Are you going to keep staring at that thing all night or are you going to tear into it?”
His face lit up right before a hurricane of wrapping paper flew into the air.
“A football!” he said, jumping up and down. “A real football. Not a baby one.” Arching his arm back, he launched it straight into Thomas’s stomach.
Thomas grunted, fumbling with the ball like he didn’t know whether to throw it or pirouette with it.
“Holy snickies,” Holly said, examining the ball in Thomas’s hands. “Are those signatures on that thing?”
“Snickies, yeah,” I replied, realizing I’d have to really watch my mouth now that an innocent set of ears was around. That, more than anything else, seemed like it would be the hardest part of this situation.
“As in the signatures of a certain Jude Ryder and the rest of his teammates?” Holly was gaping at t
he ball now.
I shot her a smirk. “No. Jude Ryder and the rest of the members of the Bad Boys Club.”
“In that case,” she said with a slow smile, “where are the phone numbers?”
Thomas handed the ball back to LJ before popping up from the couch. Zeroing in on the door, he shifted. “I’d better get back,” he said. “I’ve got an hour’s drive ahead of me.”
Holly and I exchanged a look. Thomas had seemed ready to spend the night on the couch, and now he couldn’t get out of here fast enough.
Hopping up, I followed after him. “Thanks again, Thomas,” I said, opening the door for him. “I owe you a solid.”
He paused in the doorway and looked back to where LJ was tossing his ball to Holly. “No, you don’t. I haven’t had this much fun since karaoke night, when you sang a drunken version of ‘Hey Jude’ before falling off the stage.”
I scowled at him. That was a night I didn’t like to remember. Jude had been in town that weekend, and the bartender had been a bit heavy-handed with my drinks that night. The result wasn’t pretty.
Thomas still couldn’t take his eyes off Holly, so I began to hatch a plan. “How about you let me make you dinner Friday night, then? As a way to express my undying thanks.”
I waited while he worked out something in his head.
“Come on. You can stay the night here, so you won’t have to worry about driving late at night.”
His eyes widened at that. “Are you sure?”
“Hol,” I called over my shoulder, “are we sure we want Thomas over for dinner Friday night?”
After launching the ball into LJ’s arms, she glanced over at us. I swore I heard an uptick in Thomas’s heart. “Seven o’clock,” she said. “Don’t be late.”
I grinned victoriously at Thomas and waited.
“It’s a date,” he said at last, before his face reddened. “I mean, it’s a dinner. A dinner date . . .” Another shade redder. “I mean Friday’s the date, and dinner’s the event.” Wincing, he turned around. “I’m going to go die now.”
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