After several minutes, Lucy finally comes out of the room looking mostly put back together, even though her hair is still a little tousled from our unexpected romp.
“Ready?” I ask.
“Yep,” she answers before she starts toward the elevator, weaving a little like a drunk because of her recent orgasms, the one she gave herself and then the one I’m responsible for.
She’s unusually quiet when we’re alone on the elevator ride to the main floor, and I’m not sure if it’s because she feels awkward after what we just did or if she’s dreading what’s to come. Maybe both.
“You sure you want to go to this dinner?” I ask. “Aren’t we already late?”
“Only by about five minutes,” she answers, biting back her smile.
“Just five minutes? Huh. Good thing you’ve got that hair-trigger pussy,” I joke as I watch the numbers change on top of the elevator panel as we go down.
From the corner of my eye, I see Lucy’s tongue wet her lips before she responds. “You and your hair-trigger cock went off pretty fast too,” she says, and I can hear the smile in her voice.
“Yeah, it did,” I agree with a grin just as the elevator doors open.
As Lucy mentioned, we make it to the dining room only a few minutes late. Surprisingly, the rest of the wedding party, mostly older relatives with a few same aged friends, don’t even bat an eye when we take a seat in front of her name card. There are several other empty seats, stragglers who haven’t arrived yet, so I simply slide the card next to hers with an unknown man’s name over to the chair next to the one I fold myself into. Sure, it will probably cause problems for whoever is the last to arrive, but I don’t give a fuck.
“So far so good,” Lucy whispers under her breath.
“Glad you two could finally join us,” Lucy’s mom says from several seats down where she’s sitting next to Lucy’s dad.
“Sorry, Mrs. Stafford. That was my fault,” I tell her. Her lips purse in disapproval of me, us, our tardiness, possibly all of the above, but she doesn’t say anything else.
The servers bring out appetizers of shrimp cocktail right away, followed by one delicious course after another.
Everyone is quietly talking to the neighbors beside them when the middle-aged woman across from us with a similar face and shape as Barry asks Lucy, “How is your recovery going, sweetheart?”
“It’s fine. I’m great. Never better,” Lucy responds in a rush before picking up and sipping on her glass of water, like she doesn’t want to talk about the c-word in front of me.
“You would never know that she’s been through such an ordeal just looking at her,” I comment while placing my palm on top of Lucy’s thigh and giving it a squeeze, my way of telling her I know and that I’m a little pissed she didn’t say anything to me about her fucking battle with cancer. She’s so incredibly strong and resilient after everything she’s been through, it makes me love her even more.
Goddammit! I’ve got to quit saying that shit, even in my own head.
When Lucy’s thighs clench together under the table, tightening around my pinkie that’s wedged between them, I start to feel a whole different way about her.
Who am I fucking kidding? There’s no way I can make it another night in bed with Lucy without getting inside of her. It’s as inevitable as the sun rising tomorrow. I’m an asshole for wanting her even knowing what the future holds, or how much it will hurt her when I’m locked up and she’s filled with regret. But I need her in a way I’ve never needed anyone before. Not even Ellie.
Speaking of the bride, all of the table conversations come to a sudden halt when Butterball Barry stands up and taps his fork to his champagne glass.
“Can I have everyone’s attention for a moment?” he asks. “Ellie and I just wanted to thank you all for making the trip for our special weekend. I also want to take a few moments to tell you about the incredible woman who is about to become my wife. I didn’t believe in love at first sight, not until the day I laid eyes on Ellie.”
Beside me, Lucy flinches. I feel it under my hand and see it from the corner of my eyes, telling me how much the asshole’s comments hurt her since Lucy was still obviously with Barry when he first saw Ellie. How could the dickhead be so insensitive?
Then, as if they hadn’t hurt Lucy enough, Ellie exclaims, “Oh my gosh!” grabbing everyone’s attention because apparently, she hasn’t had enough as the bride.
“What is it?” Barry asks, kneeling beside her frantically in concern, so wrapped around her finger it’s pathetic. “What’s wrong?”
“The baby kicks so hard when he hears you talk,” she says, taking his hand and placing it on her stomach. “Feel him?”
“Wow. That never gets old,” Barry says to the crowd before giving Ellie a kiss on the cheek. “I may have to keep you knocked up all the time,” he adds, making everyone chuckle. Well, everyone except for me and Lucy. The girl hasn’t moved or breathed in so long, I lean over and ask, “Are you okay?”
She shakes her head before pushing her chair back and muttering, “Excuse me,” to the table like anyone is paying attention to her, and then she makes a run for the door.
“Lucy, wait up!” I call out, but she doesn’t slow down as I jump to my feet to follow her.
It’s a good thing she’s short. My long legs catch up quick enough to see a streak of red head out the resort’s back-patio doors and into the night.
When I slip out, I find her standing against the furthest wall overlooking the harbor, with her face buried in her arms that are resting on top of the bricks, her shoulders shaking as she cries.
“Fuck, baby,” I say softly at the sight of her in pain.
When I come to stop beside of her, rubbing my hand over her bare shoulders and upper back, I hear her say through her sobs, “I hate them! I hate that they have everything…everything I wanted!”
Lifting her head, she spins around to face me. My heart breaks at seeing the tears shining on her cheeks. “This whole time I’ve been blaming Ellie, but really, Barry is the one I’m angry with. He told me he loved me for years. Then, tonight, he talks about how it was love at first sight with her, while we were still together! Was he lying to me, or was it never real? I don’t know what happened, and it’s so infuriating! It’s like I was only good enough until someone better came along.”
“He’s a dick,” I tell her, reaching up to wipe away her tears with my thumb, unable to look at them a second longer. “And Ellie is not better than you. Her beauty is only skin deep, and it will fade over time. Yours is the kind that lasts a lifetime.”
My words meant to console have Lucy crying into her hands.
Wrapping my arms around her, I pull her close, resting my chin on top of her head as I hold her. “Can’t you see how fucking fake they are?” I ask. “None of that back there is genuine. It’s an act. A performance. Deep down, they know that and are miserable. That’s all they’ll ever be,” I assure her. “But you and me? That’s real. We are as authentic as it gets. You’re a firecracker. More hyper than a pixie on speed sometimes. And sneaky as shit with your secrets and hacker magic. But you’re also unbelievably sweet, smart as hell, and so fucking strong and beautiful that I can’t stop myself from falling for you no matter how hard I try.”