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“Do you think we should get married?” were the first words to come out of my mouth.
But as soon as I said that, I hissed in regret and shook my head, pinching the bridge of my nose.
“Jesus,” I growled. “That was a worse proposal than both Luke and Trick’s put together.”
At least they had knelt, plus brought food, and even an engagement ring.
Lucy smiled sadly at my lame attempt and wiped at her wet eyes. “Trust me, we don’t have to get married just because my parents found out we’ve had sex.”
I nodded because, yeah, okay, that sounded logical, which reminded me just how illogically my brain was working at the moment.
“I…” Shaking my head, I mumbled, “I’m sorry. I’m a train wreck. I shouldn’t have...”
“You’re playing a dangerous and harmful game with yourself is what you’re doing,” she accused softly as she touched my arm.
I frowned in confusion, and she sighed. “Have you been tearing yourself apart like this with that many thoughts of what Duke and I must’ve done together?”
“I…” Lowering my face shamefully, I cleared my throat and began to wring my hands nervously. “I mean, I know I shouldn’t,” I started regretfully. “I have no right to even be—”
“Vaughn.” She touched my chin and gently urged me to look up at her.
When I did, tears filled my eyes. “I’m sorry.”
Why couldn’t I just stop letting her down?
“Sorry about what?” she ordered softly and pulled me into a hug. “You can’t exactly help what thoughts your mind conjures. But I hate learning this so late and not being able to help you with it. Jesus. You could drive yourself crazy with all the things you could think up.”
That was no shit. “But it’s not something you can exactly help me with,” I said as she took my hand and led me to the couch, where she had us both sit.
“Yes, it is,” she answered with a certainty that surprised me. “Because I’m going to tell you exactly what happened that night so there will be nothing left to imagine.”
I immediately shook my head. “What? No. Absolutely not.” No way in hell could I listen to that.
But she insisted. “Yes. I know this is probably exceptionally unconventional and an awful idea. You might not want anything to do with me afterward. Or maybe you’ll be able to work past it because of what I tell you, but at least you won’t have to wonder anymore. And we’ll find out once and for all if we can move forward from it or not.”
When I froze, she paused as well before clearing her throat and murmuring, “I mean, that is, if moving forward together is even something you do want.”
I shook my head slowly. “What I want is not an issue here.”
“Um, I would say it’s the only issue,” she argued. “Because I know I’m open to exploring more with you. I wasn’t lying when I told you I loved you. You are it for me.”
I groaned and closed my eyes, bowing my head. It didn’t seem possible that one phrase could instill so many different emotions inside a person. But the joy and elation were tempered by fear and uncertainty, guilt and heartbreak, hope and hopelessness. I didn’t even know how to process it all.
“I love you, too,” I promised. “I’m just...messed up.”
She set her hand gently on my knee. “Please let me tell you everything.”
“Lucy…” My voice strained with the torment I was going through because she made it sound so simple and easy when it wasn’t. Then my eyes went begging as I met her gaze and admitted, “I think it’ll break me to hear it.”
She only smiled. “And I seriously think you’re over-romanticizing my one night with him in your head more than you need to. Which is exactly why I’m going to tell you what happened. Because I have this feeling it’ll help.” Then she blew out a steadying breath and sent me a tremulous smile. “But… In case I’m wrong, I want you to know you’ll still always have access to Ava. If you need someone else, who isn’t me, to work as a go-between and bring her to you for visits, I would make that happen. Or if you want to keep living in the garage but don’t want to see me again, we could work out a schedule where I just wouldn’t be anywhere near the kitchen when you—”
“Or we could just not fucking talk about that night,” I suggested on a shrug. Sounded like the best plan to me.
“Vaughn,” she started in a forced-calm voice.
I shook my head, feeling my stomach plummet. “I don’t want to know this—”
“It was awful,” she cried emphatically. “And I’m 99.9% sure you wouldn’t have another jealous thought about it if you knew how bizarre and awkward and unsettling it truly was.”
