“That’s fucking bullshit.”
“Look, I care about winning, because this—you, Joe, the ring—it’s all I have. This is it for me.” He tightens my laces back up. “I just want to see you win a few more belts. The right way.”
“Okay.”
“And it wouldn’t hurt if you knocked out Antoine Phillips.” He looks up at me and laughs. “I hate that cocky motherfucker.”
“That’s the plan,” I say over the tight feeling in my chest.
“You know…I do envy what you have with Lucy. I’m never going to have the girl.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Find the girl of my dreams and then kick the bucket?” He laughs grimly. “I would never do that to someone.” He shrugs. “It’s just not in the cards for me.”
“Hey…I’m sorry, okay? And it’s not pity. I’m just sorry. Because I want it for you, brother. I really do.”
“Yeah, well, just because I can’t have the girl, doesn’t mean I can’t still have fun. Women love a guy with a heart defect. Especially when they look like me.” He grins.
I tap my gloves together. “Don’t think I won’t hit a pretty boy,” I say, knowing good and well I’d never hit him.
He puts his mitts back on and climbs into the ring. “Come on, then. Show me what you got, champ.”
Chapter 6
Lucy
I drive down the familiar tree-lined street to Drew’s house—my old house—pausing in front of it when I see Janice’s car parked in the driveway. I need to talk to them both, but I wasn’t planning on doing it at the same time.
Maybe I should come back later.
Miles pulls up behind me in his Escalade and I reluctantly pull into the driveway. Is that thing supposed to be inconspicuous? The matte back rims and blackout windows aren’t exactly subtle. I park behind Janice’s car, looking for signs of Drew, but I don’t see his car. Maybe it’s in the garage.
Miles parks at the end of the driveway and rolls his window down.
I get out of my car and give him a small wave, hoping he’ll roll his window back up, but he just nods and watches me walk to the front door. I hold my breath and press my finger to the doorbell, but the door swings open as I push it.
Janice peers over my shoulder at Miles and asks, “Is that your security detail?”
I glance over my shoulder and watch him disappear behind his tinted window. “No. He’s just a friend.”
“I know who he is, dear.” She presses her painted lips together into a tight smile. “I know everyone in this town.”
I bob my head and smile uncomfortably over the uneasy feeling she stirs inside me. I knew this was inevitable and that it would be difficult, but I didn’t know I would suddenly feel like the old me—the person I was with Drew—who I realize now was far less tenacious. Be brave. I clear my throat and ask, “May I please come in?”
“May I?” she repeats, raising her thinly plucked eyebrows. “So proper. And here I thought all the manners we taught you had worn off already.”
I pry my tongue off the roof of my dry mouth, but before I can say anything, she leans in and adds, “Maybe it was just those tacky pictures making me think that. I’m sure you can imagine Drew’s reaction when he saw them.”
“No, actually, I can’t,” I manage to say over my pounding heart. It takes everything in me not to ask if she tipped someone off that I was there. She wouldn’t.
“You really had us fooled, didn’t you?” She splays her fingers over her chest and puckers her lips. “I suppose it’s a blessing what happened, really. You would have tarnished the Christiansen name eventually. One can only hide their true colors for so long.”
I swallow the hurt she inflicts, briefly wondering if mothers normally talk to their daughters like this—maybe she didn’t care about me as much as I thought she did. I fight the tears that prick in my eyes and stand up straight. “May I come in now? Please.”
Janice steps aside and lets me in, and the familiar smell of the house comforts me in a way that makes my chest ache.
“Is Drew here?”
“No, darling, he’s out of the country.”
“Out of the country? Where did he go?”
“He went to Europe. He was in Barcelona yesterday, but he’s probably in Paris by now.”
I release a quiet breath that somehow leaves my chest painfully tight. “He’s on our honeymoon,” I say quietly to myself.
“It was nonrefundable. It was transferrable, however, so he moved the dates up to get away for a little while.”
“He went alone?” The thought saddens me.
“Don’t be silly. He has several friends abroad.”
“Oh…of course.”
“So, what exactly is it that you need, dear?”
“I, um…” I close my eyes and shake off thoughts of Drew country hopping in Europe without me. “I just need to get the rest of my things. It shouldn’t take long.”
“Of course. Follow me.” She leads me to the garage and points to two plastic bins labeled Lucy in black marker.
“He packed my things?”
“I did, actually. At Drew’s request. He said it was too painful for him. You understand.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “Yes.”
“Rest assured,” she points to the bins, “everything that belonged to you in this house is right there.” She smooths her shiny silver hair back and spins around. “Speaking of things you don’t own…”
I pick my heart up off the cold garage floor and follow her back inside, wondering what dagger she’s going to throw next.
She grabs a manila envelope off the kitchen counter and hands it to me. “Drew wanted you to have this. Though, I can’t imagine why.”
“What is it?”
“It’s the deed to the art studio.”
“What?” I ask, shocked and a little confused. “Why?”
“My thoughts exactly.”
“No.” I hand it back to her. “I need to talk to him.” I pull my phone out of my bag, but Janice wraps her long skinny fingers around my arm and lowers it.
“No,” she says firmly, placing the envelope back in my hand. “Giving you the studio was his way of letting go. Now let him do that.”
“But I can’t—”
“Let. Him,” she says again.
I swallow hard and blink back tears that fill me eyes, but one escapes and rolls down my cheek. “I can’t. I’m sorry, but I can’t take it.”
“Yes you can.”
“No I can’t. It’s not right. I won’t.”
“Lucy Marie Bennett, you listen to me, because I’m only going to say this once.” She loosens her grip on my arm and the armor falls off her shoulders. “You are one of the most talented artists I’ve ever had the pleasure to know. You have a gift. Don’t let my feelings, or anyone else’s, get in the way of the success you deserve. Take the studio.” She closes her eyes and lets out a sorrowful sigh that resonates through me and tugs hard at my heart. “Please. Do it for me. And do something great with it.”