Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 45202 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45202 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
“How you doing?”
She shrugs. “I told you not to fix my car.”
“Your car is ready.”
She points to the other side of the garage. “Your friend said you’ve been working on it all day. Tires, battery, fuel pump.”
She’s angry, and I should feel bad that I love to see the fire in her eyes even though it’s directed at me.
“It was no big deal.”
She rubs her hand across her face, and she must not realize that she wipes off some of the makeup covering her bruise. I bristle seeing the marred skin.
“Dom, listen, I didn’t want you to fix the car because I don’t have the money to pay for it right now. I had to hire an attorney this morning, and it took all the money I had, but I promise that—”
I take a step toward her. “Why did you need to hire an attorney?”
She crosses her arms over her chest defensively.
“Lucy, why did you hire an attorney?”
She doesn’t want to tell me, but after a few seconds, she starts to talk. She won’t look at me, and I can see that as the story unfolds, she’s embarrassed to be in the situation she’s in. “I own a marketing company with my now ex-fiancé. I confronted him after I caught him having sex with our secretary. He gave me this”—she points at her face—“and then emptied out the company bank accounts.”
I take a step toward her and fist my hands at my sides. “A name. Just give me a name, and I’ll take care of it.”
Why can’t she look me in the eye? She keeps looking over my shoulder. She avoids my question altogether. “As you can see, I don’t have the money for my car, so I will come and get it as soon as I do. I’m sorry that you fixed it and I don’t have the money to—”
“Take the car, Lucky.”
Her eyes widen, and I wait for her to argue with me or get pissed that I’m using her nickname from the past, but instead, a single tear rolls down her cheek, and she wipes it away. “I’m not feeling too lucky right now.”
I take a step toward her, and when she doesn’t tense up, I take another. We’re so close I can breathe in her jasmine scent. It’s intoxicating. I reach for her and stop just inches from having my hands at her waist. “Let me hold you.”
She freezes then, and I see the need in her eyes. She needs to be held. “No strings attached, Lucky. Just let me hold you.”
“I’m fine,” she insists.
“Lucky,” I say softly.
She finally looks at me, and I can see how deep the hurt is. She’s on the verge of breaking, and I can’t just stand by and let her fall apart. I pull her to me, and she fights. She struggles in my arms, but I can’t let her go. I won’t.
Calmly, I try to soothe her. I have one arm around her shoulders, and the other one strokes up and down her back. “Let me hold you, Lucky. That’s all I want. Just let me do this.”
She doesn’t want to give in, but finally, she stops fighting me. Her hands are gripping the front of my shirt as she leans her forehead against my chest. I can feel the fight give out in her, and I haul her against me. She wraps her arms around my waist and cries into my shoulder, jolting with each sob that wracks through her body. She’s crying so hard her body is trembling, and I’ve never felt so lost in my life. I want to take all her pain away, and knowing that I’ve contributed to hurting her makes it all that much worse.
I walk her a few steps to my office, kick the door shut, and then sit down on the couch, pulling her with me. I hold her like I would a child, and she just continues to sob. I hold her a little too hard probably, but I don’t know what else to do. Luciana is a strong woman, she always has been, but seeing her like this is too much to bear.
“It’s okay. It’s all going to be okay.”
I stroke her back, repeating soft words of encouragement. I’m not sure how much time passes, but her cries start to slow down until she’s sniffling against my chest. She doesn’t raise her head, but she murmurs, “I’m sorry.”
I lock my arms around her. “Oh, Lucky, don’t be sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“I shouldn’t have—”
I don’t let her finish. “Stop, it’s okay.”
She puts her hands on my chest and pushes back so she can look at me. “This doesn’t change anything. I haven’t forgiven you—”
I nod and wince as I look at her. Not only are her eyes red and puffy from crying, but she’s now covered in grease from my coveralls. “I don’t deserve forgiveness. I should be the one saying I’m sorry.”