A Love Like Yours

by Robin Huber

  I pull in a slow breath, but the oxygen only fans the flames higher. I swallow hard and reach for my paint cart with shaking hands. “Don’t move,” I say, just louder than a whisper. I reach for a tube of raw umber and squeeze a little onto my palette, then I add some ultramarine green and mix them together until I get a dark shade that’s almost black. I dip my paintbrush into the little mound of paint, wiping it on my palette several times until my hand is steady enough to begin. I position my brush over the canvas, but I freeze when I feel Sam standing behind me.

  “Lamb,” he whispers in my ear, pleading.

  I breathe in and out, desperately trying to extinguish the fire, but it sears through my veins with abandon. When his lips brush my ear, I stop breathing and close my eyes.

  “I know you feel it.” His warm breath falls on my cheek.

  “I—” I gasp. “I can’t—”

  He reaches for my face and turns me around, and I drop the paintbrush. “Open your eyes.”

  If I look at him, I’ll lose my grip on the small shred of willpower I’m holding on to, so I keep them closed.

  He rubs his thumb over my cheek, coaxing me, and I feel it down to my bones. “Look at me,” he urges, closing the space between us until I’m flush against his heated body. His chest rises and falls against mine with tortured breaths. “Please,” he begs longingly, “I need you, Lamb.”

  I open my heavy eyes to a fiery storm of blue and brown. “Sam,” I whisper, knowing that I’m on the precipice of a monumental decision. The kind that alters the universe and changes the lives of everyone in it.

  “Please,” he begs again, dropping his mouth to mine, pushing me closer to the edge. “I can’t go another second without you,” he whispers against my lips.

  A tidal wave of emotion washes over me, flashing images of the life I’m supposed to have with Drew. My nice, normal, safe life with Drew. But choosing that life will erase Sam forever. My panicked thoughts thrash around my head, rocking me to my fiery core. I can’t lose Sam again.

  I close my eyes.

  Take a breath.

  And jump.

  “Yes.” I nod fervently against his lips. “Yes,” I say again, until I’m silenced by their sweet relief. He presses his mouth firmly against mine and holds me as I fall into an inferno I have no way out of. I shove my hands into his hair and kiss him with every fiber of my being, pouring my heart and soul back into him. He groans into my mouth, claiming my tongue with his, and I’m cloaked in a warm, familiar, velvety blanket that I never want to let go of. I close my fists in his hair and moan into his mouth.

  He breathes heavily against my cheek and drops his hand to my waist, finding his way under my shirt. He presses his hand to my back and pulls me against him, but it isn’t close enough. I reach for the buttons on my shirt and Sam takes over, yanking the two sides apart. He pushes it off my shoulders and drops his mouth to my neck. Oh, God.

  Drew wanders back into my mind like a boat drifting out of the fog.

  Oh, God. I can’t do this. “Stop,” I say urgently against his lips. “We can’t do this. I can’t do this.” I cry, because I want him so badly I can barely breathe.

  He squeezes his eyes shut and lets out a tortured breath. “Why?” he asks, just as pained, rubbing his thumb across my cheek.

  “You know why.”

  He gazes into my eyes, into my soul, and says the words I’ve wanted to hear since the moment he ripped back through my heart. “I want you, Lucy. I want you back.” His proclamation reverberates through my head, and my heart doubles in size. “I know we’ve made mistakes,” he says urgently, “but we can leave it all behind us and start over. Together. It can be like it was always supposed to be.”

  “Start over?” My throat suddenly feels tight. “I’ve worked so hard to get here.”

  “I’m not asking you to give up your career,” he says with a small, apprehensive smile.

  “Just my life,” I whisper.

  He lets out a frustrated breath and drops his hand. “Your boyfriend would suffice.”

  I pull the two sides of my shirt together and step out of the hazy cloud of desire. I walk over to the couch and sit down. “He’s not my boyfriend. He’s my fiancé. And we live together.”

  “I’m aware.”

  I give him an impossible look and explain, “Everything I have is tied up in him, Sam. Everything. My career. My studio.” A sick feeling is suddenly plaguing me.

  “Lucy, if you’re worried about money, it’s not an issue.”

  I let out a distraught breath. “How could I do this to him? How could I do this to Janice? After everything they’ve done for me.”

  “Is that what this is? You think you owe them something?”

  I get up and stand in front of him. “I do owe them something. I owe them everything! They became my family when I thought I had no one left. They helped me make my dream come true—my career took off because of them. The exhibit I’m hosting next week is only happening because of them.” I close my eyes and let out a remorseful breath, because I doubt the exhibit will still happen now. Sebastian is going to be so upset.

  “Do you even love him, Lucy?” he asks skeptically.

  “I told you, I wouldn’t marry someone I don’t love.”

  “That’s not an answer. Do you…love him?” His eyes burn into me, imploring for the truth.

  I swallow hard and chew the corner of my mouth, afraid to make any sudden moves. I’m aware that I’m standing on a very thin sheet of ice that’s filled with cracks, just like the ones I put in Sam’s heart. One wrong move and I could lose him forever.

  “Yes,” I answer honestly, “I love him. But…not the way that I loved you. I could never love anyone else that way.”

  “The way you loved me.” The corners of his mouth turn down, and he drops his chin. “Maybe that’s the problem.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out something shiny. “You see, I still love you.” He hands me my engagement ring, and my heart shrinks inside my chest. “I never stopped.”

  “Sam.” I reach for him, but he walks over to the painting and picks his sweater up off the floor. He slips it on over his head, but it gets caught on his cast.

  I approach him carefully and reach for his sleeve. “Let me help,” I say softly.

  “He doesn’t make you happy.”

  “You don’t know him.”

  He reaches for my hand and says firmly, “I know you.”

  “Sam.”

  “I can make you happy, Lucy. You know that I can.”

  I swallow down a quiet sob. “I know you can, but it’s not that easy.”

  “Yes it is.”

  “No, it’s not,” I cry.

  He reaches for my face and cups my neck. “I want you, Lucy.” He drags his hand to my chest and places it over my heart. “I want you,” he groans. “But if you tell me that you don’t want me back, that you don’t love me anymore, I’ll walk away and I’ll let you go.” His face screws up and he closes his eyes. “If that’s what you really want, I’ll leave right now and I’ll say goodbye to you for good.”

  “No.” I shake my head and blink back tears. “I can’t tell you that. Because I still love you too.”

  He exhales an uneven breath and wraps me in his strong arms. “Then come back to me,” he pleads against my ear. “Come back to me, baby. Please.”

  A small cry bubbles out of me. “I want to. More than anything. But I don’t know how.”

  He unwraps his arms from around me and looks into my eyes. “Yes you do.”

  I stare into his beautiful eyes and nod, but the thought of giving up the safety of my life with Drew and ending my career before it’s even started is overwhelming. “I…I just need some time, okay? I need to figure everything out.” I blink up at him, begging for his understanding. “Please.”

  He tucks my hair behind my ear and nods. “Okay. But don’t take too long. Because I don’t know how much longer I can live without you.”

  I ignore the storm o
f emotions brewing inside me. “I won’t.”

  Chapter 12

  Lucy

  Pick up. Pick up. Pick up.

  When the unanswered call goes to Drew’s voicemail, I huff loudly and hang up the phone. I immediately try to call him back, desperate to talk to him before the guilt eats me alive, but once again it goes to voicemail. “Always too busy with work,” I grumble quietly to myself, shaping my guilt over kissing Sam into something that resembles anger and unfairly pointing out Drew’s shortcomings. I pace around my studio, unsure what to do with myself since Sam left ten minutes ago. Call Sebastian.

  “Hey,” he answers on the first ring.

  “Sebastian, I need you. Can you come back to the studio?”

  “Yeah. Is everything okay?”

  “No. I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

  “I can’t tell you over the phone. Can you just come back, please?”

  “Lucy Marie Bennett, if you think I’m going twenty minutes without knowing if you’re okay or not, you have another thing coming.”

  “I’m fine, Sebastian. I just kissed Sam,” I say quietly.

  Just? I think, and drop my face to my hand.

  Sebastian gasps. “I’ll be right there.”

  I hang up and fall onto the worn leather couch, breathing deeply in hopes that it will bring some small shred of comfort to kissing Sam and altering the course of both our lives—and Drew’s. But it doesn’t. I close my eyes and rub my tight chest. Drew is going to be devastated. And Janice is never going to speak to me again. I look around my beloved studio. I’m going to lose it. Which means no exhibit. And no invite to the show in New York next year. My heart sinks inside my chest.

  After a few minutes of feeling sorry for myself, I get up and walk over to the unfinished painting of Sam. I stand in front of it, gauging the additions that I need to make. Then I close my eyes and try to remember the way each word was scrolled across his skin. After several lingering seconds, I reach for my paints and mix them on a new palette. I grab a clean brush and begin painting the word Pain, but I stop after I make the loop for the P.

  Pain Is Fleeting.

  I really hope so, especially for Drew’s sake.

  I look at Sam’s eyes in the painting, which are a perfect reflection of the eyes that bore into my soul when we kissed. I reach out and touch his full lips, which felt so right against mine. I trace his broad chest and shoulders and follow the curves of his muscular arms. I’ve always felt safe with Drew, but when Sam held me, it felt like he could protect me from the entire world. He probably could.

  I begin painting again, thinking of the way that he called me Lamb and the way that he said he needed me. The way that he kissed me. My conflicted heart beats inside my chest like a bass drum, and I have to work hard to keep my hand steady. I love Drew, but Sam is woven through my soul like a piece of steel thread that can never be broken. After all these years, it hasn’t weathered; it hasn’t wavered. It’s just as strong today as it was when I was seventeen. Strong enough to cut right through my nice, normal life with Drew.

  “Lucy?” Sebastian calls from the front of the studio.

  “Back here.”

  He finds me in front of the large stainless steel sink in the back of the studio scrubbing my hands and paintbrushes.

  “Hey,” he says cautiously, “were you painting?”

  “Yeah.” I dry my hands on a paper towel and toss it in the garbage, but as soon as I look at him, my face flushes with shame, and tears fill my eyes.

  “Oh, Lucy.” He steps toward me and pulls me into a hug. “It’s okay.”

  “How? How is any of this okay?” I cry into his thick sweater. “What am I going to do?”

  He gently pushes my shoulders back and dabs the middle of his sweater with his sleeve. “Well, first, let’s find you something else to wear.” He flips the bottom of my shirt up and runs his thumb over the broken thread where a button used to be. He raises an eyebrow. “Must have been one hell of a kiss.”

  I spin around to go find another shirt in my office, and Sebastian follows me.

  “Are you sure that’s all it was?”

  I turn around and lean against my desk. “Yes.” I tuck my hair behind my ear and nod. “But it could have been more,” I admit. “If I didn’t make myself stop, if I didn’t force myself to stop—”

  “But you did stop.”

  “Yeah.” I shrug, but it doesn’t make things any better. I didn’t just kiss Sam, I gave myself back to him. What could hurt Drew more than that? I close my eyes and confess, “I didn’t want to stop. I wanted Sam, more than I’ve ever wanted anything before.”

  He puts his hand on my shoulder and says delicately, “It’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not okay. I’m engaged and I kissed someone who isn’t my fiancé.”

  “Yes, well, I can see how that might put a damper on the wedding plans.” He narrows his eyes, but I don’t laugh.

  “I can’t marry him.” I exhale and blink back tears. “I can’t marry Drew.” Saying that out loud practically sends me into hyperventilation. “Oh, my God, Sebastian. What have I done?”

  “Okay, just slow down.” Sebastian lifts his hands and inhales a slow, deep breath, then he lowers his hands as he exhales. “You just need to breathe.” He puts his hands on my shoulders and says calmly, “It’s going to be fine. You kissed Sam. You didn’t sleep with him. I’m sure if you explain your history with Sam to Drew, he’ll forgive you and you can still get married. In years to come, this will be nothing more than a little bump in the road.”

  “I meant, how could I have promised my heart to Drew when it still belonged to Sam?”

  “Oh.” He drops his hands.

  “And I knew it did, Sebastian. I knew it. But I fought it—that feeling in my gut that told me Drew wasn’t the one, that told me not to say yes when he asked me to marry him, that led me to break up with him shortly after he proposed.”

  “Wait, I thought you broke up because he was working too much.”

  I shake my head sheepishly. “That was just an excuse. I needed space. Because even though there were a hundred reasons for me to marry Drew, there was one reason not to.”

  “Sam.”

  My shoulders slump and I fall into my desk chair. “I spent those two weeks that we were broken up going over every possibility of ever being with Sam again and subsequently striking them all out. The odds were stacked so high against us that I eventually gave up.”

  “And you decided to marry Drew.”

  My eyes fill with tears. “I love Drew.”

  Sebastian sits in the other wooden swivel chair in my office and rolls it over to mine. “I know you do,” he says, reaching for my hand.

  “But it’s a different kind of love than what I feel for Sam.” I wipe my eyes. “Drew is like a blue sky after a storm, but Sam is the earth and the sun and the ocean. He’s the reason for the storm in the first place.”

  “Not too many people have that kind of effect on us.”

  “So how am I supposed to tell Drew that he doesn’t?” I shake my head. “He thinks I’m the love of his life. He thinks he’s mine. I’m the most selfish person.”

  “You’re not selfish. You lost the only love you’d ever known and then you picked up the pieces of your broken heart and you moved on. You’re strong. You tucked Sam away for safekeeping, because you had to, and then you began building your life without him—a good life that included Drew. And sure, Drew’s not the love of your life, but do you know how many people actually end up with their soulmate?”

  “You did.”

  He flutters his eyes and shakes his head. “We’re not talking about me.” He puts his hand under my chin and says with certainty, “You did the practical thing, and there’s nothing wrong with that. You built a life to be proud of with someone you love. That’s far more than most people can say.”

  “And now it’s about to come crashing down all around me. God.” I gro
an. “I should have told Drew about Sam. I had so many chances. I was just so afraid to hurt him.”

  “Sometimes it’s easier to protect our loved ones with a lie than hurt them with the truth.”

  “How do I protect him now?” I sigh and shake my head. “I’m not strong, Sebastian. I leapt off that cliff today and kissed Sam knowing I wasn’t doing the right thing for anyone except me.”

  “Then why did you stop?”

  “Because I don’t want to hurt Drew any more than I have to.”

  He presses his lips together and nods. “Case in point. You’re not selfish.”

  “Weak argument.”

  “What about Sam?” he asks, swiveling in his chair.

  “What about him?”

  “Well, you’re awfully concerned about Drew’s feelings. Have you thought about how hard this must be on Sam?”

  “Sam is…tough.”

  “I don’t care if he’s made of steel. If he feels the same way about you, he must be going through hell right now.”

  I drop my head to my hands and fight the tight feeling in my chest. The thought of hurting Sam is far worse than the thought of hurting Drew. I feel awful for even thinking that, but it’s true. If they were in a burning car together, I would save Sam. I put my face back in my hands and mumble, “I’m a terrible person.”

  “No you’re not.” Bas pulls my hands away from my face. “You’re a good person. And you’re a kind person. You care about everyone around you. Now, maybe it’s time to starting caring about you. What’s right for you, Luc?”

  “Sam. Sam is what’s right for me. I know it in my bones. But what if choosing what’s right for me means hurting everyone else in my life? How do I live with that?”

  He drops his head to the side and asks, “Did I ever tell you about my Grandma Meg?”

  I shake my head. “No.”

  “Margaret Monroe Monahan. She was firecracker. She died when I was in college.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say, reaching for his hand.

  “Before she died, she said something to me that changed my life.”