“But I met your mom briefly in college, and she didn’t like me very much. I don’t know if you remember, but you took me to lunch with your mom at that Mediterranean restaurant.” Regan dropped her hands from his waist letting them hang limply from her sides.
“I remember,” he said softly. “It was a couple weeks after we started dating.” He smiled. “She liked you.” He tilted his head up. “I think I recall her saying you were too nice of a girl for me.”
She scoffed. “I don’t think so. Your mom talked about Olivia the whole time, and I felt like the inconvenient girlfriend tagging along for lunch. I wanted to crawl beneath the table halfway through lunch because she did everything but say she wished you were with Olivia, not me.”
Lucas shook his head as he pushed a long strand of her hair behind her ear. “You’re wrong. My mom has known Olivia since she was a baby. You have to remember…the school had her suspended from the dance team because of the incident with your dad. My mom knew what happened. She knows how self-destructive Olivia can be, and my mom was worried about her. That’s why she visited that weekend. She was there with Olivia’s mom.”
“Oh,” Regan responded, finally seeing that weekend from a different point of view. “That makes sense.”
Lucas grabbed her hand and pulled her toward her couch. “Sit,” he said. “I want to show you something.”
Regan sat on the couch and tucked her legs to the side of her body. Lucas looked around her apartment for a few moments and then sat down next to her.
“Remember the night we met.” He lifted her left hand, brought it to his lips, and kissed it.
“Yes,” she said cautiously, not sure where this conversation was headed. Now that they were moving forward, she didn’t want to talk about the past anymore. She wanted to stay firmly rooted in the present because the past was a minefield.
He reached into his pocket and pulled something out all the while holding her gaze meaningfully. “You had this cute red string tied around your wrist.”
She searched her memory for a moment and then she remembered. “Right. My mom was on one of her spiritual kicks. I had spent the morning with her, and she wouldn’t stop talking about the meaning of a piece of red string in different cultures and religions—Kabbalah, Chinese Legends, Hinduism, and a few others. She only stopped her lecture when I told her to tie a piece of the string around my wrist.”
“Yep, you mentioned that.” He opened his hand and inside was a worn piece of red string.
Regan remained motionless for a few seconds as she stared at his open hand.
“Is that it? My piece of string.” Her voice was hoarse because she was almost afraid to ask the question.
“Six years ago, I took this piece of string off your wrist and for six years I’ve kept it inside my wallet.”
“Why?” she asked as she picked up the red string, studying it and then twisting it slowly around her index finger. She had a hard time looking at Lucas because part of her wanted to cry and part of her wanted to hug him. After that night, she’d never thought of the red string again, and for the twelve weeks they dated he never mentioned it once. Now it felt as if her whole damn life were riding on that piece of string.
He looked up at the ceiling clearly contemplating his answer, then he smiled down at her tenderly. “For a couple reasons.” He lifted her onto his lap, rubbing soothing circles on her shoulders, her sides and her back. “It was the only thing in my possession linking you to me.” She felt Lucas’s mouth brush against the side of her throat, and she shivered.
“Uh-huh,” she murmured distantly as she hugged him tightly, loving the feel of his warm hard body pressed against her.
“And…” He nibbled on her ear, his teeth closing tenderly over her lobe. “I couldn’t get the meaning of the red string out of my mind.”
“Which one?”
“The Chinese legend of the Red String of Fate.”
He lifted her wrist and held it between their bodies. Smiling, he pulled another red string from his pocket and draped the new red string around her wrist and tied the ends together.
She twisted her wrist back and forth inspecting the string. “Refresh my memory. I don’t remember the whole story.” She didn’t want this moment to end. The last few days without him—hating him and loving him at the same time—had been rough.
Twisting the string in circles around her wrist, his eyes never left hers. “Well, that night after we met, I did a little research.” He shifted. “According to the legend, an invisible red string, the string of fate, connects two people who are destined to be together no matter the time, place, or circumstance. The thread can be stretched, twisted, or tangled, but it will never break. Tying a red string on two people symbolizes their sacred connection to one another.”