Chapter 9
Under the Bridge
Daniel meets my eyes with mock horror. “I’m sorry for whatever’s about to happen, Lu. I’ll make it up to you. Text if you need me.”
Aunt Judy swats him with a throw pillow cross-stitched with Love Is a Song as he heads back to the kitchen. She tells him to do what he was told and mind his own business because I can handle myself just fine.
“All right, Miss Lucy. Who is your favorite music star? Past or present, not just talent, but stage presence and charisma.”
Well, that isn’t what I was expecting, but I can handle this question. “Bret Michaels from Poison. Without a doubt.” I grin. I know it’s weird, but it’s the truth.
“That’s an unusual choice for someone your age, but he’s a lot of fun, isn’t he? Let’s sit on the sofa.”
She moves over to a more comfortable seat and pats the cushion beside her. I sit down, once again surprised she knows who Bret Michaels is, but she knew Motley Crüe, so apparently her musical genius includes hair metal. Who would’ve guessed?
“Who’s yours?” I ask with genuine interest.
“Ohhh, so many. Donny Osmond sure put on a show. I enjoy good musicians, so I’d probably add Ricky Skaggs, Jon Batiste, and Flea.” She smiles as if she didn’t just list the most unlikely musicians to ever be named in one sentence.
“You gotta respect Flea.” I nod in agreement, feeling oddly connected to this woman whose eclectic interests somehow make perfect sense to me.
“Now that we have that out of the way, I know it’s none of my business, but I’m going to ask anyway. Why are you and the boy not together? Sorry to be so direct, but I’m old, and he won’t be out there long. I’d like to hear it from you, because I know what he wants.”
There it is.
I steady myself and wave off what she thinks Daniel wants. This sly fox just wanted to make sure the coast was clear. She didn’t give a rat’s behind about that first topic. Her skills are impressive.
“I—I don’t think he wants anything. We’ve been friends for a while, and he’s never expressed wanting anything more. We are close. I appreciate everything he does for me.”
I try to explain how I ended up engaged to Nathan so quickly. Every time I say it out loud, it gets harder to justify staying with him, but I don’t want to be someone who withdraws love when the circumstances aren’t perfect.
Wait, though—isn’t he doing that to me?
“Daniel and I have spent a lot of time together. Especially lately,” I tell her.
“I know. I’ve heard a lot about you.” She grins. “But I was asked not to say that.”
“But you just did.” I smile back, both apprehensive and amused.
“I didn’t agree to the terms, sweetheart.” She winks at me.
I see a bit of Daniel in her steady gaze, but I heard Jace’s snark clear as a bell in her voice. Which is weird, but not impossible since they grew up together. Color me intrigued.
Questions for another day.
“I’m like the troubleshooter of my family, but DC does that for me, and I’ve gotten too comfortable letting him,” I spill out as honestly as I can. “But … I’m technically engaged to Nathan. Maybe. We’ve had some complications. I’m not thinking about marriage now. Just survival.”
“Oh, Lucy.” She shakes her head. “Maybe you didn’t notice Jude’s in love with you because you aren’t used to being shown with actions. He’s probably not making himself clear with words.” She shakes her head like he needs to straighten his posture or correct some music-related offense.
What the actual heck?
Did she just say that?
The fact that she keeps calling him Jude is the least shocking thing out of her mouth.
“In love with me?!” I squawk. “We care a lot about each other, but that’s a lot to assume.” My eyes practically bug out of my head. “I have no right to put words in his mouth.”
“I’d agree with you, but then we’d both be wrong. He loves you.” She puts her hand up with finality, and I can tell she won’t be accepting any further arguments. “Explain the complications with your fiancé.”
I might as well spill my guts. I have two settings lately—locked up like Fort Knox or a whole presentation with a slide show and searchable FAQs.
I explain the baby mama situation as briefly and sympathetically as possible.
“Days like today, when Nathan shuts me out, Daniel always shows up. I feel terrible about it. He must be tired of getting dragged into my messes.”
“Somehow, I doubt that, but if you’d known our boy loves you before you dated Nathan, would you have chosen him?”
She’s torturing me. We just met, and this woman is waterboarding me right here. I don’t want to think about this. I run screaming from this question every single day.
“Daniel has never said he loves me, Aunt Judy.”
“That’s not what I asked you, dear, but for the record, he sang it to you ten minutes ago, and we prefer that method of communication, do we not?” She pins me with a knowing grin. Dang her. She should be a lawyer or a politician.
I nod once.
She leans in, staring straight into my soul. “In a perfect world with no complications, would you love him?”
Tears pool in my eyes, and I roll them, mostly at myself.
“I don’t need perfect,” I respond without a thought. Loving him is not the issue.
It doesn’t require any effort at all.
“Right.” She smiles smugly. “When will you tell them?”
My mouth falls open in a gasp. “Tell who what?”
“Tell Nathan it’s over and tell your prince you love him as much as he loves you, of course,” she says, like it’s that simple and this is a Hallmark Christmas movie.
“I can’t do that! What kind of person would I be to dump Nathan for someone else when he’s worked so hard to change his life?
” I plead. “And Daniel is an affectionate flirt, Aunt Judy. It’s the game he’s always played with me.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been a willing participant.
He makes me laugh and relax and feel safe … and then I feel guilty.”
“Oh, honey. You’re allowed to be happy. That young man outside called in a favor from his brother to cover work, solved your car problem, and turned it into a lovely day of singing together on his own birthday.
That’s not a game; that’s intention.” She pauses for the words to sink in.
“Sweetheart, there aren’t many like him, and I’m not just biased.
Give that boy any challenge and he’ll rise up with a song in his heart and a smile on his face. ”
I rub my chest feeling something akin to heartburn. I don’t question Daniel’s character, but I’m beginning to question mine.
I hear Nathan’s voice in the back of my mind, complaining about how I always kick him when he’s down. “Walking away right now would be beyond selfish.”
“Honey, there are so many things wrong with that statement. It’s not selfish to want to be loved by the person best suited for the job.
You’re not married. Nathan’s family probably thinks you’re saving him, but his wild oats came up as weeds, and as my dear mama said, that ain’t your row to hoe.
If there’s ever a time to be selfish, it’s when you choose a partner.
Because life will get messy, and you need someone you can trust with not only your life, but his own. Who do you trust, Lucy?”
She’s going straight for the kill.
“Daniel. Always.” There’s no sense in arguing that point.
Aunt Judy tilts her head to the side with a look of satisfaction. “He never complains about your messes. It’s almost like he takes a sad song and makes it better, don’t you think?” She smiles, proud of her analogy.
“Well played, Aunt Judy.” She doesn’t know half of what he’s done for me or that I wear those words on my skin like a promise to myself. The irony isn’t lost on me.
But there’s one thing she doesn’t get—Daniel doesn’t need me.
“I’m right about everything, darlin’.” Her strawberry curls bounce as she tosses her head with a laugh.
“You’ll see, but you have to give yourself permission to do what’s best for you.
It’s not as hard as you’re making it. He loves you, and you love him,” she says like it’s all settled, and I still don’t know where all this is coming from.
Has he talked to her about me?
Just then Daniel walks in catching the last words. “Loves who?”
He’s flushed and completely soaked in sweat, wiping his reddened face with the shirt he’s supposed to be wearing and chugging from a water bottle.
My body goes numb and blood drains from my face as I watch his arms flex and his throat move as he swallows. I’m staring like I have seen the ghost of … someone really freaking hot.
Holy, holy, holy.
Mother of chest and abs.
I knew they were there, but I don’t consciously think about it. I’ve seen him shirtless before. Surely, I have. When we played basketball. And once when he woke me up weed-eating outside my window.
Good morning to me.
It was lovely. No complaints. But this is … more.
I would’ve remembered this. I’ll never not remember this. We hug fairly often. I know he’s solid, but I also know the sun is bright without staring directly into it, burning my retinas like he’s doing now.
Mercy. I can hear my erratic breathing in my ears. Do they hear it?
There’s a dizzying pattern of mostly black ink around his upper right arm and chest that must be new. At least within the last few months. There are roses and thorns, clouds, the sun and moon.
I want to color them.
A small bandage in the clouds is coming loose from his sweaty skin, but I can’t tell what happened. Maybe a scrape or burn from helping with my car? I hope it didn’t mess up my pretty coloring book.
Stop it!
My eyes slide down his torso, chasing some words in a cursive script along his left side. I’m desperate to read them. Memorize them. Possibly with my tongue.
Oh, hell on a stick.
Somehow, I stop myself before my head flops sideways to study him and drool runs out of my mouth.
Just why?
The words are a blur. I can’t make anything out of them.
Because I’m underwater.
Drowning. Drowned. All the way drownt.