Frankie Mason rolled the newspaper in his hands and tapped it on his knee.
So I was thinking, Virginia…
Yes, Frankie. I’ll marry you.
Aw, swell.
The beginnings of a smile played around Lucy’s mouth, but it vanished when Matt took her grandfather’s place in her memory and she replaced Virginia. Instead of Frankie Mason’s gentle face, Matt’s gray eyes watched her steadily from across the bench, a wealth of mystery behind them. She wanted so badly for him to come closer, to hold her as tightly as he had the night before in the kitchen, but instead he got up and walked away. Lucy shook her head to dispel the image, but it stubbornly remained. Unlike him last night, it might never leave her.
She thought back to the afternoon in the coffee shop. With her master’s degree under her arm, she’d thought herself invincible in every aspect of her life. Then Matt had walked in and blown that theory right to hell. Perhaps she’d been naive. She hadn’t been prepared to feel so much for him, to want him to this stunning degree. Holding herself back around him hadn’t been an option and now she sat on this bench, feeling stripped bare. As if parts of her were walking around outside her body and she had no way to get them back.
Last night, she’d been so sure he felt something more. He’d talked about them in the future tense, he’d held her against him so damn tightly, as if trying to fuse them together. Yet he’d gotten out of there so fast, the town house might as well have been on fire. Had she misread him? She couldn’t get past the relentless worry that their relationship had begun and ended with her lie that very first afternoon. Perhaps he’d never gotten past it, and any other outcome had been wishful thinking on her part. In fairness, she hadn’t been with a lot of men. And certainly none like Matt. The kind of man who could tie you up in knots, then yank them tighter and tighter until you imploded. The kind of man who gave your body and mind an equal workout. After he’d opened up to her last night, she’d thought they’d reached some kind of turning point. He wanted her to understand what made him who he is. What he didn’t realize? She’d embraced that man on day one. Back in the motel room, she’d seen him. She’d known him. As much as he allowed someone to know him.
Two years ago, she’d left behind the daredevil and focused on being the Lucy her family needed. How had she missed the fact that Matt was the equivalent of skydiving without a parachute? Instead of listening to his signals, recognizing that he didn’t want anything from her beyond a physical arrangement, she’d let him get close, shown him a part of herself she’d never known existed. Her confidence had built with every encounter. Then he’d stolen it, taking all her progress along with it.
Still, still, there was a stubborn voice in her head telling her she’d read Matt right. He cared about her. He was not a fickle man, nor was he the type to play games with someone’s emotions. Which is why she sat on her grandparents’ bench, praying like hell he showed up. He’d made it to every single event on her itinerary thus far. If he managed to show up this morning, to the only important item on her list, she would fight for them. She would tell him she’d fallen for him and he better get used to having her around. She would shout and curse and stomp until he figured out she was worth it. That he was worth it.
If he showed up.
Almost afraid to look, Lucy glanced down at her watch. One minute. He had one minute to get here before she went with option B.
Paris.
She hadn’t based the decision solely on Matt, although claiming he had nothing to do with her moving to France would be a lie. Being in the same city with him, knowing she could run into him at any time and relapse into how she felt right now, would be counterproductive to getting over him. And getting over him would be her only option. Being a glorified booty call did not work for her, particularly when it meant going behind her brother’s back. No, she couldn’t do it. Frankly, she was surprised Matt could. Another way she’d misjudged him?
Lucy felt a hint of panic creep into her stomach as the minute came and went, took a deep breath to calm her racing pulse. Conversely, her heart dulled in her chest, feeling heavy. France would not just be an opportunity to put this life-changing week with Matt in her rearview, it would be her chance to help provide for her family. To shift the load from Brent’s shoulders onto her own. To keep her parents comfortably retired in Florida. With the new baby coming, her brother would need all the help he could get, even if he would never say it out loud.
She thought of the phone call she’d received last night. They had offered her the job at the Met, right here in New York City. She could take it and stay. It would be a healthy enough salary to give her a start on her own and pitch in with her family. But at that moment, it occurred to her that this wasn’t her home any more. Hadn’t been in a long time. Friends had moved on, her family had flourished in her absence. She’d been here less than a week and she’d managed to jeopardize the friendship between Matt and her brother and convince Hayden to lie to Brent. Her leaving town could very well be the best decision for everyone.
What did she have keeping her here? Against her better judgment, she’d let herself consider that Matt might be a reason to stay. She recognized now the fantasy world she’d been living in. They’d been an extended fling, plain and simple. His expressive gray eyes appeared in her head, but she pushed them aside, even if the finality of the action caused her heart to wrench painfully.
Lucy glanced one more time at her watch, shocked at how much time had passed. Thirty minutes late. Could one be late if they never planned on coming in the first place?
She pulled her cell phone out of her purse and sent an email to her contact at the Louvre.
…
Matt threw his car in park at the curb and jumped out, Lucy’s itinerary still clutched in his hand. Late. He was late. Only by forty-five minutes, but he couldn’t shake the horrible feeling of dread pooling in his stomach. Had she waited for him?
He’d been called in early this morning, by the commissioner himself, to make a statement about yesterday’s explosion. Four goddamn times he’d repeated the same story for different levels of NYPD brass, without changing a single word. Then the paperwork had begun. By the time he’d finished, he’d glanced at the clock to find it was three o’clock.
He’d resolved to tell Brent this morning about his feelings for Lucy. Hell, he’d been eager to come clean. This afternoon was going to be his chance to claim her. To hold her, no barriers between them. Now he’d missed the most important part of her visit to New York. An event sixty years in the making and he’d f**king missed it. He couldn’t help but feel like he’d also missed his deadline to legitimize his relationship with Lucy.
Feeling sick at the thought, he picked up his pace, skirting past people strolling along the path. She would wait for him. Wouldn’t she? As much as he’d tried to resist her, this week had been the best of his life. When he was around her, some of her lightness seeped into him. But he needed her with him to feel it. It didn’t work when she wasn’t there.
The bench came into view and he slowed to a stop on the path. Empty. On the spot, he felt that same emptiness invade him. She’d left. She hadn’t waited. For a moment, he allowed himself to hope he’d made a mistake and this was the wrong bench, but as he drew closer, he saw the carved words and his hope evaporated.