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I appreciated that we had come out here and I’d been able to go on pony rides, see the Grand Canyon and many other sights. I’d ignored anything that would pull me out of feeling happy andnot read a single news article, despite Sarai sending me links and photos of many of them.
Now I was heading back, however. Sitting in the back of a car, surrounded by my friends, I was going to be in Chicago in only a few hours. Already that morning, I had gotten several messages from Sarai asking me if I was still willing to listen to a project pitch, and I knew she must have been scheming with Daniel, because he’d sent me almost the exact same request.
I got the impression someone else was involved, and possibly Stacy as well, because she had spent the last hour or so on her phone messaging someone and had asked several strange questions throughout the last week about me and details about my preferences and past life.
The whole thing had me on edge, but I knew I would be anxious anyway. I didn’t think it would matter how long I was away from Chicago for. I was going to be nervous about running into Lukas every time I came back.
Not that I necessarily intended to ever come back again. I had only promised to listen to a pitch, not accept it. Since I was going back for that purpose, I knew I ought to see what the press had been saying about the project.
This was the first time I had received this level of scrutiny, and I was prepared for some of them to decide they didn’t like it no matter how well the project went. Some critics just liked to slate creativity.
I pulled open my messages and scrolled back to the start, wanting to read the older articles and then work my way to the here and now. Sarai had been kind enough to give me a summary of some of them and a warning if they weren’t completely positive, but I still read through them.
Most of the articles talked about the idea, praising Lukas for the layout and the exterior and Sarai and Richard’s company for the general concept. All of them had a few lines about theinteriors, and for the most part it was positive, one even going so far as to say the genius that had gone into the exterior of the buildings had extended into the vision of the interior designer and into every element from start to finish.
I saved the article, took a screenshot and sent it to my mother. If nothing else, she could be pleased about it. With every mention of Lukas and his track record, I grew agitated and then slowly more and more numb. Most of them parroted the same sorts of information about his past projects and awards.
They all said very little about me except I was “up and coming” and from the UK. It was code for, “we’ve never heard of her, but these folks liked her and chose to take a gamble.” One even said the whole project was a big risk that appeared to pay off.
The latter part had never occurred to me when I had been asked to get involved. It hadn’t seemed like some big venture that had a high chance of failure. I’d been wrapped up in the bubble of talent and enthusiasm and taken along for the ride. Most of the time, I’d even loved it.
I sighed as I closed yet another review that basically said the same sort of things. Not all of them appreciated every section, some of the huts being accused of being kitsch. But the majority were positive, as Sarai had declared.
Finally, I reached one that had only been published two days earlier. Sarai hadn’t said much about it other than it was mostly about me compared to the others and she was going to hunt down some print copies of the magazine if I wanted it.
The thought made me panic, but I’d managed to read enough of the articles that I didn’t think one more could hurt. I regretted it as soon as I opened it. There were photos of me and Lukas from the showcase front and center.
An ache I had hoped was gone for good settled back in my chest and I had to bite my lip to keep from crying. We lookedgood together, his arm around me and smiles on our faces. It must have been taken as I had leaned in slightly, reacting instinctively to being close to him once more.
The article talked about Lukas working with me and mentioned me as if I was a protégée he had discovered and worked well with on this project.
It spoke of it not being the first time Lukas had collaborated on a large project with someone outside of his team and mingled this with personal life. I frowned. I’d had no idea Lukas had been in a relationship with a business partner before. Of course, I hadn’t expected him to have no exes. But to find he’d worked with one…
I skimmed the rest of the article, most of it being about me, as Sarai had suggested. I knew who had written it without needing to read the name tagged onto it. This had been the one reporter who had bothered to ask different questions and come back to me. In some ways, he deserved a different, more in-depth story.
As soon as I finished reading it, I pushed it from my mind. It had focused on me and the possible love story angle, but hadn’t confirmed anything the reporter couldn’t be sure of. The only difference it had made for me was to make me curious about the person Lukas had worked with and dated in the past.
For the first time since being off Jack’s island post his wedding to Juno, I searched for Lukas on the internet and tried to learn as much as I could about him. Who had this woman been and why hadn’t I realized she was in his life before?
The rest of the journey ticked by as I struggled to find out who it could have been. Lukas hadn’t been photographed with any woman but me, it seemed, in the last several years. And to see if there was anyone he’d worked with was even harder. Sometimes his projects were much more out of the limelight.
It didn’t help that there wasn’t some long list somewhere of what he had been doing. Eventually, I found it. An article written in a not-too-dissimilar style from what I’d just read, about Lukas and a highly attractive socialite. She hadn’t been an interior designer but some kind of public figure and fashionista.
Lukas had clearly been in a relationship with her as well. They had been photographed holding hands and they had impacted each other’s careers for sure. And then it had suddenly ended. No one had spoken of it and I had no idea what had happened.
If I was going to see Sarai and Daniel today, maybe I could ask them. But I knew it would show I wasn’t over the man. Did I even care at this point?
CHAPTER NINETY-THREE
By the time we pulled into the parking lot, I was a bundle of nerves again. I’d barely been able to stop wringing my hands together for the last ten minutes, to the point that Stacy had reached across and taken my fingers in hers.
“You’ve got this. Just trust that the business part will go okay, and we’ll take care of the rest. You don’t ever have to do anything you don’t want to, and no matter what, we’re all still here for you.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. As we got out of the car, Sarai came rushing out of the information center. No doubt she had been waiting for me. Before I could utter a word, she pulled me into a big hug.
“It’s so good to see you. It has felt strange not talking to you every day. Please tell me we’re okay with each other.”
As her panicked words came out and she studied me, I grimaced. I hadn’t considered what not really replying to her messages might have done to her. She had worried about me.
