Chapter 31
Lucas stopped answering calls from his father on a Tuesday.
Not intentionally at first.
The first missed call happened because he was asleep on the couch at four in the afternoon after another night of almost no sleep.
The second because he stared at the screen too long and physically couldn't handle another conversation about "damage control."
By the sixth call, he simply muted the phone entirely.
Which apparently his father took personally.
Because by Thursday evening, Richard Cooper showed up uninvited at Lucas's apartment.
Wonderful.
Lucas opened the door wearing sweatpants and exhaustion while his father stood in the hallway looking painfully expensive and deeply unimpressed.
"You look terrible."
"Always nice seeing you too."
Richard stepped inside anyway.
The apartment remained dim despite the early evening hour, rain streaking softly across the massive windows overlooking the city.
Lucas hadn't bothered turning most lights on lately.
Honestly, the darkness felt accurate.
His father looked around once before sighing.
"You've been avoiding people."
Lucas shut the door harder than necessary.
"I've been busy."
"With what?" Richard asked sharply. "Tanking your reputation?"
There it was.
Right on schedule.
Lucas walked toward the kitchen silently while his father followed.
Every movement between them carried years of tension underneath it.
Old disappointments.
Old expectations.
"You disappeared from two meetings this week," Richard continued. "Your publicist says you're becoming difficult."
Lucas laughed softly without humor while grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge.
"God forbid."
"This isn't a joke."
"No," Lucas agreed quietly. "It stopped being funny a while ago."
Richard studied him carefully now.
For the first time, his expression shifted slightly from irritation toward concern.
"You're throwing away opportunities over a girl."
The sentence landed wrong immediately.
Lucas went still.
Not angry yet.
Worse.
Cold.
"Don't talk about her like that."
His father crossed his arms.
"She asked for space, didn't she?" Richard said bluntly. "Maybe that should tell you something."
Lucas's jaw tightened hard.
"She's overwhelmed."
"She's not built for this life."
Something sharp snapped violently in Lucas's chest.
Because that sentence—
that exact sentence—
was the fear Sabrina had been carrying for months.
And hearing it from someone else suddenly made him realize how badly he'd failed her.
"She shouldn't have had to be built for it," Lucas said quietly.
Richard frowned slightly.
"What?"
Lucas laughed once softly, rubbing exhausted fingers across his jaw.
"You know what the problem is?" he said. "Everyone keeps acting like fame is normal. Like the invasiveness and the scrutiny and people tearing apart your private life is somehow acceptable because cameras are involved."
Richard looked unimpressed.
"That's the industry."
"No," Lucas said sharply now. "That's the excuse."
Silence crashed heavily between them.
Rain battered softly against the windows while tension thickened in the apartment.
Lucas looked exhausted suddenly.
Not celebrity exhausted.
Human exhausted.
"I loved her," he admitted quietly.
His father blinked slightly.
Past tense.
Lucas noticed immediately and shut his eyes briefly.
Christ.
Richard's voice softened a fraction.
"Lucas."
"She asked me for space because my life became unbearable for her." His throat tightened painfully. "And the worst part is she was right."
Richard watched him carefully.
Lucas rarely spoke emotionally around him.
Honestly, almost never.
But now the words kept coming anyway.
"She kept trying to survive all this attention and I just..." Lucas laughed softly again. "I kept thinking I could manage everything if I worked hard enough."
"You can."
"No, I can manage headlines." Lucas looked up finally. "I couldn't protect her."
The admission cracked something open inside him completely.
Because for weeks Lucas had been blaming:
But underneath all of it sat one terrible truth:
Sabrina had been drowning beside him,
and he noticed too slowly.
Richard leaned slightly against the counter.
"For what it's worth," he said carefully, "you look more destroyed now than after Claire."
Lucas stared at him blankly for a second.
Then quietly:
"That's because Claire leaving hurt my ego."
His father went silent.
Lucas swallowed hard.
"Sabrina leaving..." He looked away briefly. "That felt like losing part of myself."
The honesty stunned even him.
Because saying it aloud made it real.
The apartment fell painfully quiet afterward.
Then Richard sighed heavily.
"You're serious about her."
Lucas almost laughed.
Serious.
What an absurd understatement.
"She became the only part of my life that felt real," he admitted.
The words echoed heavily through the kitchen.
And suddenly Lucas understood something terrifying:
he had built his entire emotional stability around Sabrina without realizing it.
The late-night calls.
The bookstores.
The drives.
The way she looked at him like he was human before famous.
God.
No wonder everything felt unbearable now.
Richard studied his son for a long moment before speaking again.
"So what are you going to do?"
Lucas opened his mouth automatically.
Then stopped.
Because for the first time in weeks—
he genuinely didn't know.
That realization sat heavily in his chest long after his father left later that night.
By midnight, the apartment felt suffocating again.
Lucas wandered through rooms aimlessly while London glowed beneath the rain outside.
Everywhere he looked reminded him of Sabrina now.
The couch where she'd fallen asleep reading.
The kitchen where she once mocked his inability to cook pasta correctly.
The balcony where she kissed him softly after midnight because she thought he looked lonely.
.
He physically missed her.
Not abstractly.
Like withdrawal.
Lucas finally sat at the piano near the windows around one in the morning, pressing absentminded fingers against random keys.
He hadn't touched it in years.
Too busy.
Too tired.
Too emotionally disconnected from himself most of the time.
But tonight silence felt dangerous.
His phone buzzed suddenly against the piano bench.
A message from Chloe.
Interesting.
Terrifying.
Lucas opened it immediately.
Chloe:
She's not okay either, by the way.
His chest tightened painfully.
Another message followed.
Chloe:
But she's convinced loving you means destroying herself eventually.
Lucas stared at the words while something heavy settled in his chest.
Destroying herself.
God.
Had things really gotten that bad?
Another text appeared.
Chloe:
And honestly?
You disappearing into PR meetings after the leak proved her fears right.
Lucas shut his eyes briefly.
Because Chloe wasn't wrong.
He thought he was fixing things.
Protecting things.
Meanwhile Sabrina interpreted every absence as confirmation she came second to his image.
The realization made him feel physically ill.
His phone buzzed one final time.
Chloe:
If you love her, stop trying to manage this like a celebrity.
Then silence.
Lucas sat motionless afterward while rain tapped softly against the windows and Chloe's words echoed painfully through his mind.
Stop trying to manage this like a celebrity.
The problem was:
Lucas had spent his entire adult life treating emotions like potential disasters to contain.
Careful interviews.
Careful statements.
Careful vulnerability.
Even loving Sabrina—
at first—
had terrified him because he knew feelings made people reckless.
But maybe restraint had become its own kind of cowardice.
Lucas stared out toward the city lights for a long time before finally understanding the thing he should've realized weeks ago:
Sabrina didn't need another private apology.
She needed him to choose her loudly.
Publicly.
Unambiguously.
Not behind closed doors.
Not in whispered late-night confessions.
Real.
The thought terrified him instantly.
Because choosing Sabrina publicly meant losing control.
Of his image.
His privacy.
His carefully managed life.
But losing her already felt worse.
Lucas grabbed his phone immediately afterward.
Then hesitated.
Fear still sat there.
Old instinct.
What if she didn't want him anymore?
The thought nearly stopped him.
Then he remembered Sabrina standing on that rooftop weeks ago laughing softly while accusing him of jealousy.
Remembered her curled asleep against his chest.
Remembered the way she once whispered:
"You make me feel safe too."
God.
He wasn't ready to lose that.
Not permanently.
Lucas stood abruptly from the piano bench and grabbed his coat.
He finally knew what he needed to do next.