31. April
Chapter 31
April
I t’s not until I round the corner to the café that my stomach stirs, but I raise my chin and tell the pesky nerves to fuck right off. I can do this.
I opted for the skintight black midi dress and my white trainers. I’ve folded a cropped denim jacket over my arm, just in case. The sun is shining, so I want to take advantage of the warmth and show off as much of my figure as I can. My hair is curled into relaxed beach waves, which bounce lightly against my ribs with every step, and I’ve slathered my skin in cocoa and shea butter lotion. I smell fantastic.
My make-up is simple but pretty. I’ve dusted soft pink blush across my cheeks for a hint of colour and added a thin coat of mascara to make my blue eyes pop. A pink glossy lip ties it all together. I feel really good about how I look.
The bell above the door chimes as I step inside, and the usual barista glances up, doing a double take before flashing me a wide, beaming smile. “Hi,” he says, his eyes sweeping me from head to toe, appreciatively. “You look great, April!”
He’s handsome, but in a more understated way.
I blush under his gaze, feeling a bit self-conscious. “Hi,” I manage, giving a small wave.
I scan the room, my stomach flipping when I find Lucas. The moment he sees me, he swallows hard, his jaw clenching as he adjusts the lapels of his jacket before standing to greet me. Instead of giving him a hug, I drop into the chair opposite his.
He’s clearly made an effort. I smell his usual Ted Baker cologne—citrus and black pepper. His cropped chestnut hair is tousled perfectly with just the right amount of product. He’s dressed in a simple yellow T-shirt under a casual grey jacket, which he’s paired with blue jeans and beige trainers. As always, he looks neat, polished, and completely put together. The total opposite of his brother.
He’s so proper, it almost seems staged. But instead of nerves and nostalgia, there’s a strange sense of distance, like I’m looking at someone I used to know rather than the man who was once my home.
Maybe Anna was right—there’s nothing remarkable about him at all. It’s almost as if the shine and magic I once saw in him were never his; they’d always come from me. From the hope that we could build something spectacular together.
But after spending time with James, being here with Lucas now feels so … wrong. So lacking. There’s nothing staged about James—no calculated effort to impress or mould himself into some perfect image. James is unfiltered. There’s something about him, something honest and unpretentious, and it’s there for everyone to see.
Maybe, deep down, it’s always been about finding something we’ve been searching for within ourselves. James has it, and for the first time, I think I’ve finally found it too.
He rolls his shoulders and clears his throat at my dismissal, taking a seat. “April,” he says softly, his voice as smooth as ever, “thank you for meeting me.”
I offer a forced smile. “Sure.”
A heavy silence settles between us, and I blink, waiting for him to say something, anything. I’m unsure whether he expects me to start the conversation, so I just dive in. “You asked to see me,” I say, keeping my tone flat.
“Yes, I did,” he replies, resting his hands on the table. “Honestly, I didn’t know if you’d even respond, so I’m glad you came.”
“How are you?” I ask, forcing kindness into my voice.
“I’m well, a little overwhelmed with work, so naturally I feel a bit withdrawn, but I’m good. How are you?” he asks.
“I’m good. Basil is good. Still shitting on the floor, but that’s Basil,” I say, shrugging.
He smiles at the mention of the cat. He always loved him. “I’m glad you’re both well. I’m happy you have him,” he says.
“Me too.”
“How’s work?” he asks.
I hate this, I’ve never been great at playing the surface game. I wish he’d get to the point.
“Works been fine, just the same. I’ve taken up ceramics again. I heard you were back with your parents in Toton?”
He nods. “I was there for a few weeks after we split, yes. But I found myself a flat in Battersea a couple of months ago. That’s wonderful to hear about your ceramics. I’ve managed to run some small study groups at the university, which I’ve been enjoying.”
Ah . That explains why I saw him at the Mayfair Lounge.
“That’s great, Lucas,” I say, annoyed. This conversation feels like wasted air, so I cut to the chase. “What did you want to talk to me about?” My voice comes out sharper than I intended.
He looks momentarily taken aback but quickly recovers. “Look, April, I know things didn’t end well between us. But you’re still one of the kindest, funniest, most soulful, and sympathetic people I’ve ever had in my life. Not to mention, the most beautiful. You were the best thing that ever happened to me—a diamond among the rubbish.” He reaches out, resting his hand over mine. “A beautiful blood-red diamond,” he adds softly.
Has Hell frozen over? Did I hear him correctly?
This isn’t at all what I was expecting. I blink. “I don’t understand what you’re trying to say,” I reply, confused.
“I made a mistake,” he says, his eyes softening in a way I can only describe as pleading.
A mistake .
I whisper his words, weighing them up as I speak them aloud.
A mistake?
Is he serious?
Suddenly, a wave of fire rips through me, but I temper the anger to keep my composure.
“A mistake? It didn’t seem like a mistake when you were messaging those women for months. When you blocked and ghosted me. When you acted like we never even happened,” I snap.
He rubs his thumb over my knuckles, but I pull my hand away, watching the expression on his face drop. “I messaged other people occasionally, but it was just light-hearted—mostly meaningless, not even flirty all the time. I couldn’t get this intense”—he gestures between us with his other hand—“with anyone else, because they didn’t mean anything.”
“Really?” I raise an eyebrow, sarcastically, but he barrels on, totally oblivious.
“April, I could never have what we had with anyone else. We shared so much, and yeah, parts of that I’ve shared with others—like the occasional picture or chat about … steamy stuff. But you’re the only person I’ve ever been with who I could consider … more . It was casual with the others when it happened, which wasn’t all that often.” He pauses for effect. “You’re the only one who has my heart.”
I honestly don’t even know how to respond to that. It’s strange—hearing him spout his usual charm doesn’t affect me anymore. It’s quite the opposite. This is his pattern, what he’s always done. He did it with me, with those women online, and probably countless others. I’m starting to see it for what it really is—manipulation to get what he wants.
“Get to the point, Lucas. What do you want?” I ask, my patience thinning.
“I want you back, if you’ll have me.”
I clench my fists under the table, grounding myself. I try to tame the myriad of thoughts whirling in my mind before speaking.
“Lucas, what you did was disgusting. It was deceitful, disloyal, and it destroyed my trust in you. Not to mention fucking weird behaviour for a thirty-four-year-old man. You lied to me. You had my whole heart, and you shattered it.” My voice gains strength as the anger rises. “You don’t get to just waltz back into my life and expect everything to return to the way it was. I haven’t heard from you in months . You blocked me, dated other people—you moved on . And now, so have I.”
His face hardens as he sits up straighter. “Wait, you’ve moved on? You’ve met someone?”
I can feel the shift in his demeanour, but I don’t back down. “This isn’t about that, Lucas. This is about you thinking you can just turn up when it suits you. Life doesn’t work like that.”
I watch his shoulders sag as my words sink in.
It’s tragic, really. After all the heartbreak he put me through, he’s only just now realised what he’s lost. But it’s far too late. The hurt in his eyes is unmistakable.
But I won’t sway.
Not this time.
All I can think of is James.
He’s the one who saw my broken pieces and helped me put them back together. He saw me slipping under and dove into the depths to help me. I replay the look on his face when I told him what we did was a mistake, and my stomach sours.
He’s the one I want. The one I care about.
I sit up straight, take a deep breath, and after a long pause, reach over and take Lucas’s hand in mine. His skin feels familiar, but foreign, like I’m touching a memory rather than a person. I meet his gaze—those dark obsidian eyes that once held every promise I ever dreamed of. But they’re just blank now. Windows to a place I no longer belong. I’ve already moved towards James. Lucas may have realised he still wants me, but James makes me feel like I deserve to be wanted.
“Lucas, you were everything to me. I’ll always be grateful for the time we shared. You became my family when I had no one else. We built a beautiful life together, and I’m so thankful that I met you. We supported each other and brought joy into each other’s lives. You were my safe place, the one I cherished and looked forward to coming home to every evening …” I trail off.
“But you don’t want to try again,” he says, nodding in understanding. “I feel so incredibly awful for how I treated you, for what I did. Hurting you was the last thing I ever wanted. You’re so positive, and I think so highly of you. I hate the idea that I ended up having the opposite effect on you. It’s been on my mind every day.”
I shrug, offering him a small smile of my own. He continues, “I want you to know that nobody else has come along, and I don’t think anybody could.”
I close my eyes, his words slicing through me more sharply than I expected. If no one else could ever come along, then why did he do it? What was the point of it all? What was I missing?
And then it finally clicks—no amount of questioning will ever bring me the answers I was once searching for. I could spend the rest of my life trying to untangle the web of his choices, trying to make sense of why he threw us away, but the truth is, I’ll never understand. It doesn’t matter anymore. Because the fact is, he wanted other women. He’s a liar. It’s that simple. It doesn’t need to be deeper or more complicated. I’ve learned to accept that some things are just that—messy, senseless, and hurtful. And even if I could understand, it wouldn’t change the past.
It wouldn’t undo the pain, wouldn’t rewrite the nights I cried myself to sleep, or erase the self-doubt I’ve carried since.
Understanding won’t change the fact that he made a choice, and I was left to deal with the fallout. I can’t change what happened, but I can choose how I respond. Moving on doesn’t require forgiveness or forgetting—I can move on without either of those things. But at least now he sees the damage. At least now, he’s sorry. And maybe, just maybe, that’s enough to give me some peace.
I squeeze his hand gently, and he goes on. “I’ve always had this feeling … that we walked into each other’s lives at exactly the right moment, when we both needed someone to remind us we were worth something.”
I smile softly. “Yeah,” I say, nodding. “I like the sound of that.”
I look at him before leaving. Really look at him. For someone who exudes such confidence, I can’t help but wonder how lost he must feel inside. It must be a constant battle, fighting the need for external validation. I almost feel sorry for him.
I truly hope he finds what he’s looking for. But it’s not my place to see that it happens.
As I step out of the café, another truth settles in.
This isn’t over—not yet.
No matter how relieved I am to put the betrayal behind me, it’s only a matter of time before he finds out about James and me.
And when that happens, everything could fall apart.