18. Chapter 18
Chapter 18
Lucas
T he one night with Amara had been a gift—and since then, she'd kept me at arm's length.
" I don't want to rush this, " she told me when I showed up like a puppy dog panting for scraps.
I understood. She was afraid. She didn't have faith in me, in us—and I had only myself to blame. If we'd been honest with each other, if I'd shared the pressures of being a Covington and she'd told me how she was really feeling, maybe we could have faced our struggles together. But I chose to keep my problems from her, and she didn't want to seem needy or demanding, so she kept hers from me.
The result was losing each other—and that loss cut deep, all the way to my soul. I knew it did for her, too.
I was a practical man. I didn't believe in soulmates and that shit—but if I did, I'd say that Amara was mine.
We had dinner together; she insisted on eating at her place. She wasn't ready to take our "nascent non-relationship" (her words) out into the world just yet.
I knew she wanted to set the pace, but I didn't get ahead in business by holding back. I had no idea how she'd respond, but I was going all in.
I was staking my claim, I thought as I parked just outside the College of Charleston campus. My pulse quickened as I stared through the windshield at the main building. This wasn't exactly my usual territory, but then again, nothing about my life had been typical lately. I was here because I needed to be—because it was time to stop hiding behind excuses and finally do something about the mess I'd made with Amara.
My conversation with Grandma had stuck with me. She'd made it clear that if I wanted Amara, I needed to fight for her. So, that's precisely what I intended to do.
I grabbed the picnic basket from the passenger seat—a little over the top, maybe, but I wasn't about to half-ass this—and made my way across campus.
As I approached the building where Amara's office was, nerves began to tighten in my chest—a feeling I wasn't used to.
I'd faced down boardrooms full of cutthroat executives and navigated high-stakes deals with barely a ghost of doubt, but this, well, this was different. This was personal. And it mattered more than any business deal ever had and ever could.
I spotted her through the glass doors, wrapping up a conversation with one of her students. She looked composed and focused, with a spark in her eyes that I'd missed so much. But there was also a weariness, a heaviness that I knew I was partly responsible for.
As she turned to head toward her office, I stepped inside, my heart beating like a drum in my chest. "Amara," I called out.
She stopped and turned to face me, her expression shifting from surprise to something more guarded. "Lucas, is something wrong?"
The fact that her mind went there made me realize how much work I still had to do.
"I brought lunch." I held up the picnic basket.
She blinked, clearly taken aback. "Lunch?"
"Yeah." I took a step closer. "You've got to eat, right?"
She hesitated.
" Please ," I pleaded, my voice softening. "I just want to spend time with you. No pressure, no expectations. Just lunch."
Her eyes searched mine, and for a moment, I thought she might say no. But then she sighed, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Alright. But only because I'm starving, and you've clearly gone to a lot of trouble."
I grinned, relief flooding through me. "You won't regret it."
She raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical, but she nodded. "We shall see."
I guided her out onto the campus lawn, finding a spot under a large oak tree. The area was quiet but not empty—students wandered by, chatting, laughing, and going about their day. I spread out the blanket I'd brought and set down the basket, not bothered by the curious glances we were getting.
Amara sat, smoothing her skirt over her knees, watching me with a mix of wariness and curiosity. "Normally, one would just go to the cafeteria for lunch."
"Normal is overrated." I started unpacking the basket, laying out the sandwiches, fruit, and the small bottle of sparkling water I'd picked up from her favorite deli. I even brought a small vase with a single peony—a little nod to the bouquet I'd sent earlier and the message it carried.
"Good God," she chuckled.
She looked happy, and I loved knowing I was the reason for that smile. If she forgave me and offered me the chance, I'd work hard every day to make her feel this way.
I noticed a few students nearby watching us, whispering to each other. Let them watch, I thought. I wasn't here to hide. I was here to show Amara how much I loved her.
She picked up a sandwich from a tray, eyeing me with that sharp gaze. "What are you up to?"
"Lunch. I'm dead serious about food, you know that." I relaxed across from her. "I know I've screwed up more times than I can count, but I'm here now. And I'm not going anywhere until you know how much you mean to me."
She looked down at the sandwich in her hands, her expression softening for just a moment before she masked it again. "You said just lunch."
I smiled. "It is, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to make my case. That night was wonderful." I saw a shiver run through her, and I curbed the instinct to beat my chest. "I want all your nights for the rest of your life."
" Just lunch , Lucas," she warned.
"Eat up, Tesoro . Your students are going to need you to have your strength." I winked at her.
She stared at me, her defenses wavering but still there. "What are you doing, Lucas Covington?"
"I'm trying to win you over," I admitted.
She was quiet for a moment, her gaze drifting over the scene around us—the students walking by, the sunlight filtering through the leaves, the ridiculous picnic spread out before her. I could see the conflict in her eyes, the way she was torn between wanting to believe me and wanting to protect herself.
I took her hand in mine, brought it to my lips, and kissed it, making her smile.
A group of students nearby started clapping, apparently deciding that our little exchange was worthy of public approval. I turned to see them grinning, clearly enjoying the spectacle of their professor being courted right there on the campus lawn.
Amara's cheeks flushed a deep pink. "You couldn't do this somewhere less public?"
I laughed, genuinely enjoying the moment. "Where's the fun in that?"
She shook her head, but I could see the smile tugging at her lips. "This is all a bit over the top."
"Maybe."
She narrowed her eyes, but she couldn't hide the smile. "You can't win me over with an egg sandwich, no matter how good it is."
"I wouldn't expect anything less." My heart lifted with a hope I hadn't felt in months. "But, I know all your favorite foods, so I'll just keep showing up with lunch."
She finally took a bite of her sandwich, her eyes never leaving mine. "You think the way to a woman's heart is through her stomach."
"The way to your heart, Tesoro , is by being honest," I told her, letting her see through me, "And I'm giving you that. I'm giving you me. All of me ."
Her eyes moistened.
I didn't want her to cry, so I lightened the mood. "But you know I think I'd get further if you'd let me aim a bit lower and eat your pussy."
She gasped, scandalized, and then burst out laughing.
And just like that, the tension between us eased, replaced by emotions that were lighter and real.
"Are you doing any new research?" I asked.
Her eyes lit up. She loved talking about her work and listening to me about mine. "I'm doing this study on how different companies communicate with the public—not their customers but the public at large. Large corporations versus small companies versus old family-owned enterprises versus startups."
I leaned back on the blanket, listening to her speak, watching her finally relax into the moment. I did this, I thought. I made her happy. That was my reward, and it felt damn good.