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I know it’s what people will think, though. I’m still shaken by Lucas’s behavior. Last night and this morning have been so good. It’s like he’s had a sudden traumatic brain injury that’s turned him into someone sensitive and thoughtful. It’s like someone’s flicked a switch and suddenly he’s become the kind of man I’ve always wished he would be. For the first time ever, I feel like Lucas Adler actuallycaresabout me. And I hate how much I like it.
Summer in the city can be stuffy and overwhelming if you’re not ready for it, made of an atmosphere filled with sewage-steam smog. But today, the humidity is down and the sun’s up. The light flickers through the trees and makes little waves of gold on the sidewalks as we push the stroller along. It’s warm, so I put on a summer blouse. It’s just right for today, letting my bare arms catch the breeze in the air.
The children also seem to be enjoying the weather. Noah and Chloe are running rings around us, squealing with laughter as they play some intricate game only they understand. Ava giggles and points at them from inside her stroller, flapping her arms about like she’s conducting them.
Fortunately, the events of the morning were easily put right — it was just a photo frame that got knocked off the chest of drawers, which then turned into the kind of argument that you have with your siblings when you’re tired and under-stimulated. After breakfast and a walk, they would be good as new.
It’s mind-blowing to me that Lucas thought to suggest this. It’s exactly what we all needed. An outing. It’s astonishing that he seemed to use his brain for something that wasn’t work-related for once. And to take abreakfrom work! If he didn’t already seem to be suffering from an extreme personality change, him suggesting a day off alone would be enough to make me question his sanity.
But we’re here and it’s gorgeous and I couldn’t ask for more. The fresh air, the trees’ bright green leaves blowing in the breeze… it’s all combining to make me lose my mind too, because holding his hand crosses my mind as a serious thought. I stamp it out immediately, like a bug. I’m still wary of his good mood. I’m still hesitant to get caught up in it only for him to go and break my heart. After all, my heart is about the only thing that Lucashasn’t taken from me. The irony of him shattering that on top of everything else would just be too much for me to handle.
So I push away any thoughts of feelings whatsoever and lose myself to the world around us. “Who wants to go find the swings?” I ask. All three of the kids jump for joy, and for a second I think Lucas is going to raise his hand too. I can’t imagine a young Lucas, let alone a young Lucas playing on a playground.
Until this week, I would have said without a doubt that Lucas has never had fun in his entire life. Maybe he hasn’t. Maybe we are changing him for the better after all.
I lead the way towards the playground, corralling Chloe and Noah, whose energy seems to be boundless. It’s nice to see them enjoying themselves, being free to be loud and wild and full of glee. I feel like we’ve seen them frown far too much lately.
Chloe spots the swings first, and, with a shout, points at them before she makes a break for it. Noah bounds after her as fast as he can, but his legs are considerably shorter and he’s not built for speed. He calls out to her in vain for her to wait for him. Ava bounces about in her stroller too, reaching out with both hands as her siblings rush towards the park.
“We’ll get there too, honey,” I say. “Don’t worry. We won’t let them have all the fun without you.” Ava flops down in her seat and folds her arms impatiently. At least she’s not fighting me. I’ve pushed Katie’s kids around enough to know how annoying it is when all they want to do is get out of the stroller.
I beckon to Lucas to up the pace, and we walk as fast as we can, which isn’t that fast when pushing bags and a kid. Before we know it, we hit the edge of the playground and are faced with a sea of kids whooping and screeching and spinning aroundin circles. I crouch down to unbuckle Ava and, like a honing beacon, she waddles after her siblings who have already started making friends.
If only life were still that simple. There’s something so endlessly endearing about the way kids make friends with everyone. As long as you’re willing to play, you can be buddies.
Lucas drifts over to a tree and leans against it. I wander over to him and park the stroller, reaching into the basket to grab a water bottle. As I drink, I watch him. He’s observing the kids like a scientist, watching their every move like he’s trying to gather data on what they’ll do next. But there’s nothing cold about his look. He’s fixated on his brother’s kids, his eyes slightly closed as he smiles fondly.
In the same way as he watches the kids, I watch him. The only semblance of a smile I’ve ever seen on him is a thin-lipped grimace of satisfaction or disappointment. That smile has a whole universe of meanings, and I had thought it was about the only smile he was capable of. But this is genuine, as warm as the sun and as wide as the smile of a man who’s experiencing genuine joy for the first time in a long time. It’s mesmerizing. It softens his whole face, taking that angular, grumpy edge off, leaving behind a guy who looks approachable and friendly.
Those are two words I’ve never ever applied to him before. But they couldn’t be more true right now.
I wish they couldstaytrue.
I’ve never found it surprising before that he doesn’t have a girlfriend. Not only has he never expressed a single iota of romantic interest in anyone, but he’s always seemed too cold and closed-off for anyone to get close. It’s not that he’d have ashortage of people wanting him. Money and a handsome face can get you anything in this world.
And I’ve seen women try and flirt with him — it’s not like they aren’t interested. But it’s always ended in disaster, doomed from the start. I’ve never seen anyone get even a little bit close to making him smile like this. I’ve barely even seen him recognize flirting for what it is. I guess word has got round about how undatable he is, because hardly anyone tries anymore. And those who do try are met with the cold wall of emotionlessness that he gives everyone. It doesn’t take long for people to give up.
But if they could just see this. If I could just see the way the sun catches his hair and illuminates his eyes, if they could just see how human he looks when he smiles, then I’m sure more women would try again. I’m sure they would find him irresistible, in fact.
Not me, though. I can stay objective.
Still focused on the kids, he says, “Thank you.”
“For what?” I sputter, yet again finding myself on the back foot in a conversation with him. For years, I’ve prided myself on knowing exactly how he ticks, on being the only one who can manage his moods and demands. But I have no idea what to do with this.
“For everything,” he says gently, finally turning to look at me. “I’ve never really said that before, have I?” he says, blinking as if he’s surprised himself.
“No,” I say dryly. “You haven’t.”
“So, thank you. For everything. I should have said it before. I should have said it a thousand times. I wouldn’t be able to dothis without you. I don’t think I could find a better personal assistant if I looked for a hundred years.”
I have absolutely nothing to come back to that with, so I just let our eyes meet and try to decide if this is for real.
The worst bit is, I really think it is. I know all his expressions, especially what the face ofI’m saying whatever I think will get me in your good favor as quickly as possiblelooks like, and this isn’t it. This is an expression I’ve rarely ever seen on him. Sincerity.
I’m really wondering about that brain accident.
I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but his smile widens. “I’ve surprised you,” he says as if that wasn’t obvious.
