A Love Like Yours

by Robin Huber

  I sit up in my chair and listen intently.

  “As I sat on her bed, holding her hand, ready to say goodbye, with my girlfriend waiting in the other room—”

  “Girlfriend?” I raise my eyebrows and he smiles.

  “She looked at me and said, ‘Honey, I want you to do something for me.’ Of course, I told her I’d do anything. She said, ‘I want you to be honest about who you are.’ Now, I hadn’t told anyone I was gay, especially not my family—I was having a hard enough time trying to come to terms with it myself—so I blinked and nodded, trying to figure out what she was talking about. But she just smiled and said, ‘You’re gay.’”

  “How did she know?”

  “We were always really close. I guess I was just more myself with her than I was with anyone else.”

  “Well, what did you say?”

  “I didn’t say anything, at first. I tried to laugh it off. But she knew. She looked me in the eye and said, ‘You don’t have to pretend with me, honey. I’ve known you were gay since you were thirteen years old.’”

  I widen my eyes. “Did you know when you were thirteen?”

  He crosses his arms. “I knew I didn’t like girls the way that my friends did. I just didn’t know what it meant exactly.” He shakes his head and laughs. “Out of everyone in my family, my elderly grandmother was the only one who could see that I was gay.”

  “So what did you do?”

  “I wept like a small child. It was like she had cut the string to a giant helium balloon I’d been holding on to all those years. It was an enormous relief. But it was also terrifying. At that point in my life, the idea of coming out to my family, and to my girlfriend of two years, was almost paralyzing. It meant admitting that I’d been lying to them. And it meant accepting that they might not forgive me.”

  “Sebastian.”

  “Honestly, if it weren’t for the next thing she said, I don’t know if I would have done it. But she looked at me and said, ‘You listen to me, Sebastian. You only get one chance at this life. And it may seem like you have all the time in the world. But I’m at the end of the road and I know how fast it goes. Don’t waste your life pretending to be something you’re not. Be who you are. Be happy, angel.’” His eyes mist a little. “That’s what she used to call me.” He clears his throat. “That was the last thing she said to me.”

  I press my lips together and reach for his hand again. “Grandma Meg was a really smart lady.”

  He nods. “She was a pretty incredible woman.”

  “Thanks for telling me that.”

  “Lucy, telling my parents that I’m gay was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”

  “How did you do it?”

  “With a lot of courage. And faith. I believed what my Grandma Meg said to me that day. Telling my parents the truth was scary, but I wasn’t going to spend my whole life pretending I was happy when I wasn’t. Because the thought of lying in a bed at the end of my life knowing I’d never found true happiness was far scarier.”

  “But your parents understood? I mean, you guys are really close.”

  “Now. But it wasn’t always that way. My mom was devastated because she thought I’d never be able to give her a grandchild.” He laughs and shakes his head. “She prayed for me around the clock. And my dad couldn’t even talk to me for a while. But yeah, they eventually came around, and in the end, they were asking for my forgiveness.” He shrugs. “I think it was the hardest on my girlfriend. She thought it was her fault somehow, like she’d done something to turn me gay. We’d been dating for so long, I can see why it was confusing for her. But now she’s married and has a baby. And I’m so happy for her. Because I know I couldn’t have given that to her.”

  “Wow.”

  “I sometimes wonder, if my Grandma Meg hadn’t made it her dying wish for me to be honest about who I really am, how many years of my life, and my girlfriend’s, would I have wasted because I was too afraid to tell her the truth?”

  “Sebastian, I can’t imagine you being anyone other than you.”

  He stands up and pulls me out of my chair. “You’re going to figure all this out, sweetie. You just have to be true to yourself. And keep harnessing all that emotion to create more amazing paintings like the one I saw today.” He raises an eyebrow.

  “I finished it,” I say, trying to hide a smile.

  His eyes light up. “Show me.”

  I lead him out of my office and over to the painting.

  “Wow.” He gazes at it. “It’s really incredible. It may be your best work.”

  “You think so?”

  He nods. “I love it. It’s strong. Powerful. Provocative.” He pulls his hand to his chin. “He looks determined, but I can’t tell if he’s winning the fight or losing it.” He drops his head to the side. “But he won’t give up. He’ll take hit after hit if he has to.”

  I swallow hard, listening to his interpretation of the painting.

  “And the way you layered the colors is really incredible. So…alive. And the lines here”—he points to the tattoos on his arm—“they’re so fluid.” He smiles at me. “You did good.”

  I smile back. “Thanks. Especially since you volunteered it for the exhibit.”

  “You’re going to use it?” he asks excitedly.

  I shrug and nod. “If there still is an exhibit.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  I keep my eyes on the painting, afraid to look up and see the disappointment in Sebastian’s eyes. “When Drew finds out about Sam—rather, when Janice finds out”—I let out a remorseful sigh—“it might be the end of the exhibit. You should probably be prepared for that.”

  “Then maybe you should wait until after the exhibit to tell Drew.”

  I look up at him, but I can tell he’s not joking when I see the serious expression on his face. “Sebastian, it’s not until next week. I can’t keep this from him that long.”

  “It’s only a week. You’ve been working for this all year, Lucy. We’ve been working for this all year. How can you throw it away when we’re this close? How can you throw away your chance to sell in New York?”

  I chew the corner of my mouth. “New York isn’t a guarantee.”

  “It will be when they see this,” he says, staring at the painting.

  I look at it again and think of everything we’ve done to prepare for the exhibit. All the late nights and months of planning. I think of New York and the possibility that it holds. My whole career hangs in the balance. I swallow down the lump in my throat and clench my fists. “Okay. I’ll wait until after the exhibit. It’s only a week,” I tell myself. I may die of guilt, but I can wait a week to break Drew’s heart. It’s not that long.

  Sebastian keeps his eyes on the painting and lets out a contented sigh. “It’s going to steal the show. I wouldn’t be surprised if you had an offer for fifteen thousand. Maybe more.”

  I pull my eyebrows together. “I’m displaying it, but it’s not for sale, Bas.”

  “Pity. Well, it will definitely get you some attention if Sam shows up.”

  “Who said anything about Sam coming?”

  “Lucy, you can’t have a painting of him in the show and then not expect him to be there.”

  I hadn’t thought that far. “If Sam comes to the exhibit, so will the media.”

  “Isn’t that what we want?”

  “I want people to take notice of my work, but that kind of attention is on a whole other level. And how will I explain it to Drew?”

  He narrows his eyes. “Let’s just worry about getting through dinner first.”

  My throat tightens at the thought of having Sam over for dinner, which is inevitable if I wait until after the exhibit to tell Drew. “Why the hell would Sam even want to come to dinner?” I huff. “Is he insane?”

  Bas looks at me like I’m the crazy one. “He wants to size up his competition. He’s a man. It’s what we do.”

  “Well, I’d like to avoid it, but Janice isn’t going to
forget about it, is she?”

  “Nope.”

  I roll my eyes and huff again. “Neither will Sam.”

  “You have two options. Tell Drew about Sam now and kiss your career goodbye. Or suck it up and have dinner with your fiancé and your soulmate, who fascinatingly aren’t the same person.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “That’s not funny.”

  He pulls his mouth to the side and pinches his fingers together. “Just a little bit.”

  Chapter 13

  Lucy

  “Hello?” Sam’s low, sultry voice answers the phone.

  “Hey.”

  “Lucy?”

  I’m quiet for a second. I’ve been fighting the urge to call him for the last twenty-four hours since he left me at the studio to sort out the ambiguous details of our future. But I couldn’t wait any longer. I needed to hear his voice. “Yeah, it’s me.”

  “Hang on a second.” He says something to someone in the background, but it’s muffled. “Hey,” he answers again, his voice softer now.

  “Is it a bad time?”

  “No, I was in a meeting, but I stepped out.”

  “I’m sorry, I can call you later.”

  “It’s okay. I can talk.”

  I’m quiet again.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m okay.”

  “I’m glad you called. I thought I was going to have to use my resources to find your number.” I hear the smile in his voice.

  “Well, you have it now, so that won’t be necessary.”

  “Good, because I can’t go a whole day without hearing your voice.”

  “Sam—”

  “I know, you need time. I’m trying to give it to you. But I don’t want to wait for you, Lucy.”

  “I know.”

  “Where are you? I want to see you.”

  A mix of excitement and reluctance flashes hot across my skin. “Um, right now? I’m at home, but—”

  “I’ll be done here in an hour. I’ll come get you.”

  “You want to come here? To my house? No.”

  He laughs quietly. “Okay, then meet me somewhere.”

  I close my eyes and shake my head. I doubt we can meet in public without him being noticed. But I need to see him too. I have to explain my decision to wait until after the exhibit to tell Drew. “I can come by your apartment later.”

  “Okay.” I hear the satisfaction in his voice.

  “Will you be home this afternoon?”

  “I’ll be there.” I hear someone in the background. “Lucy, I have to go.”

  “Yeah, of course, your meeting. I’ll see you later.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay,” I say, trying to hide the angst in my voice. “Bye.” I hang up, but my phone buzzes in my hand, startling me.

  Janice.

  I take a deep breath. “Hi, Janice.”

  “So, have you worked out the details with Drew yet?”

  “The details?” My pulse races at the mention of his name.

  “For dinner on Saturday.”

  “Oh, um, no. I haven’t spoken to him about it yet.” Because I’m hoping there won’t be a dinner. “He’s been really busy this trip.”

  “Well, I hope Saturday at eight is okay for everyone. I had Sebastian go ahead and add it to your calendar.”

  “I’ll mention it to Drew when I talk to him.” Which at the current rate will be when he gets home tomorrow. He’s barely had time to respond to my text messages.

  “Okay, well, be sure to tell Sam.”

  “I will.”

  “Saturday at eight.”

  “Got it.”

  “Oh, and darling, have you given any more thought to that gorgeous dress?”

  “The dress. Right. I, um, I think that maybe I should see a few more before I commit.” My face screws up with guilt, because I have no intention of trying on any more dresses.

  “Well, okay. I’ll see what else I can come up with.”

  I close my eyes and shake my head. I don’t know who I’m more afraid of hurting. Drew or Janice.

  “Bye, darling.”

  “Bye, Janice.”

  I slide my phone across the kitchen counter. I can’t imagine having Sam here for dinner. I walk into the living room and scan the framed pictures on the shelves next to the fireplace that showcase the life I built without Sam. I think about what Sebastian said—how hard this must be for him—and I begin to take them down, one by one, stacking them in my hands.

  I step back and eye the space. Maybe Drew won’t notice. I shake my head and put them all back.

  I pull into spot 322, surprised that the parking garage guard didn’t ask for my ID. He just smiled at me and raised the gate to let me in. I park and get out, passing Sam’s shiny black car on my way to the stairs that I take to the first floor.

  When I walk into the lobby I’m greeted by the guard at the front desk. “Miss Bennett, it’s good to see you again,” he says, smiling at me.

  I camouflage my apprehension with a smile. “Just Lucy.”

  “Okay, Miss Lucy. Is he expecting you?”

  “Yes, I believe so.”

  “I’ll let him know you’re on your way up.”

  “Okay.” I make my way across the lobby to the bank of elevators, my heels tapping on the marble floor as I go. I try to look at my reflection in the doors, but all I can see is a shadowy cast of black, my clothing color of choice this week, from my skinny-heeled zip-up booties to my moto leggings to my leather jacket. I did throw on a gray scarf to hide behind.

  The elevator doors open and I step inside, followed by a woman I wasn’t aware was behind me. She presses the button for the sixteenth floor, and I shrink under her watchful stare as I press the button for the penthouse. Everyone in the building must know it’s Sam’s apartment.

  She glances at my face and I feel my cheeks flame, but I try to hide it with a polite smile. She gives me a small smile in return, tucks her short brown hair behind her ear, and pulls out her phone. She taps a quick message with her shiny red fingernails and then presses her glossy lips together and stares straight ahead. When her phone buzzes, she looks at the screen and smiles, and it takes everything in me not to yank it out of her hand to see what she wrote. She drops it back into her expensive-looking purse, and I clutch mine tighter.

  The doors open to the sixteenth floor and she glances at me again with a patronizing look. “Have fun up there,” she says as she steps off the elevator, and I feel the blood drain from my face.

  She knows Sam.

  The way she was looking at me, like I was pathetic…He must have girls up there all the time. I can’t help but wonder if she has slept with him. The troubling thought fills me with doubt quicker than it entered my mind. Here I am about to give up my entire life, and for what? So I can become the subject of dirty looks and patronizing comments?

  When the doors open to Sam’s foyer, he’s standing outside his door waiting for me, wearing what looks like the remnants of an impeccably tailored suit, giving me his sexiest smile. His collar is casually unbuttoned and his sleeves are rolled up, but his belted pants and shoes are nothing less than Armani perfection. My heart should be soaring, but right now I can’t seem to pick it up off the floor.

  He crinkles his eyes. “Hi.”

  I pry my tongue off the roof of my dry mouth. “Hi,” I say, forcing a smile.

  His eyes follow me as I walk inside before him. He catches my wrist and pulls me back, spinning me around to face him. “You look…” He presses his lips together. “I like this.” He grins at my outfit and reaches for my hand. “You are so unbelievably sexy.”

  “That’s not really what I was going for,” I say, feeling him suck the oxygen out of the space between us. I grip his hand to keep my balance.

  “Well, what were you going for then?”

  “Concealment.”

  “Who are you trying to hide from?”

  “You.”

  “You can’t hide from me, Lamb
.” He pulls me close and looks into my eyes. “I see you.” He nudges my nose with his, and I breathe in his warm scent.

  No. “Stop.” I push against his chest and scurry backward on my skinny heels, until I’m several feet away from him. “We can’t.” I swallow and shake my head. “I can’t. We need to talk.”

  He scrapes his teeth over his bottom lip and rubs the back of his neck. Then he flashes his one-of-a-kind eyes at me. “Lamb.”

  No. I will not be seduced by his beautiful eyes, or his full lips, or the dimples in his flushed cheeks. And I will not fall into his arms every time he calls me Lamb. I march across his apartment to the kitchen and grab a bottle of water from the fridge. I twist the cap off and take a sip.

  He follows me to within a foot of where I’m standing.

  “No.” I hold my hand up. “Stay there.”

  He raises his eyebrows at me.

  “I need you to stay there…please.” I take another sip of water.

  He leans against the counter and watches me. “Do you mind telling me why?”

  I put the bottle down and take off my scarf, which is now suffocating me. I know that I’m on the verge of creating a very big crack in the ice beneath my feet, but I need him to know. “Sam, what we did was…wrong.”

  He stares at me blankly, and I get absolutely no read on his thoughts, which is unnerving. “We kissed,” he says, like it’s no big deal, and I wonder if to him, it isn’t. Considering his track record with women, it’s probably a weekly occurrence. His eyes pierce mine, pulling me from my precarious thoughts, and his face turns to stone. “There was nothing wrong about it.”

  I hurt him. I chew the corner of my mouth. “You’re right. It wasn’t wrong. But that doesn’t make it right, Sam. I’m still with Drew. And until I’m not, I can’t go around kissing you.”

  “So what are you saying?”

  “I’m saying that I want to tell Drew, before we…make out again.”

  He laughs softly, but I don’t see an ounce of amusement on his face. “So then tell him.”

  I huff and shake my head, because he has no idea how hard it’s going to be, no matter when I choose to do it. “You act like it’s so simple.”