Jake stood at the stove when she reached the kitchen. “Good morning,” she said.
“Hey.” He didn’t turn around. “If you’re hungry, the eggs will be done in a jiffy.”
Her phone rang. Her father. She excused herself and took it out onto the back porch, where she listened to him try to justify what he and Donald had done after the oil spill.
“Bottom line, Dad, is that we made a whole lot of money off the gullible ‘little people’ again.”
She jumped when the kitchen window behind her slammed shut.
Jake banged the skillet around and all but threw the food on the table. He couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. On top of her running off to her own room last night after they made love… His shoulders slumped. How could he have been so wrong?
She came into the kitchen, frowning, and tossed her cell on the counter. Good. That made two of them who were unhappy.
They ate in near silence, speaking only when necessary. Lucinda poked at her eggs, pushed the crisp bacon around on her plate and ate very little. He dumped his own in the sink, went out without a word to get the paper.
Lucinda’s picture was the first thing he saw. There she was, front page and in living color, wrapped in Donald’s arms, eyes closed, lips locked.
Anger burned in his chest and he remembered the hurt he’d felt at the restaurant, even knowing Lucy hadn’t welcomed Donald’s kiss.
He tossed it into the middle of the table. “Looks like you made the paper.”
“Ohhhhh!” she groaned. “Why won’t they let it alone?” She covered her face with her hands.
Jake was tired, feeling mean, and Lucy was an easy target. “Sells a lot of papers. The little rich girl and her lover.” The words left a nasty taste in his mouth.
Fear of losing her ate at him. He’d known better. Known he couldn’t keep someone like Lucy with him. Yet he’d let himself hope. Had fooled himself into believing they could make it work.
“What?” Outrage filled her voice.
“I’m just saying. Looks pretty darn real to me.” Sarcasm bit through his words.
“You were there. You know I didn’t want that.” She gestured at the article, then pitched her fork onto her plate.
“Nobody else who picks this up will know that.”
“Jake, what’s wrong?”
His hands slapped the table, and he leaned toward her. “Was this all a game, Lucy? Were you playin’ me, trying to get me to back off?”
“What?” She rubbed her forehead. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”
“I heard you out there talkin’ to Daddy. Talkin’ about all the money you’ve made off the little people.”
“That was sarcasm.” She spoke between clenched teeth.
“Right.”
“I can’t believe you’d think that of me—” She broke off.
He rubbed at his chest. His heart hurt.
“I refuse to justify my actions to you.” Her voice trembled. She waited a beat, but he said nothing. He’d dared believe there was something real between them. When she’d given herself to him, when she’d cooked hot dogs beside him. But he’d been fooling himself. The chasm between their worlds was too deep, too vast.
Lucy jumped up and ran down the hall to the bedroom. She grabbed her suitcase, snapped it closed and dragged it out the front door.
“Where are you going?”
She didn’t answer. The door slammed behind her.
Jake sank onto the old sofa where only last night they’d made love. A giant fist wrapped itself around his heart, squeezing the life from him. What had he done?
He’d said terrible things to her. Threw horrid accusations at her. He’d been so sure she could never truly love him that he’d made damn certain it was true. He didn’t move. He couldn’t. The one woman, the only woman, he’d ever loved had walked out on him. And it was his fault. Totally.
Outside, Lucinda breathed deeply, then walked quickly around the block, thankful the big suitcase had wheels. She couldn’t stay there in front of his house. Couldn’t risk him coming out. Couldn’t have anything more to do with him.
He’d broken her heart.
Somewhere in the distant recesses of her mind, she knew this was the pain she should have felt when she’d realized Donald had been unfaithful. Instead, she’d felt nothing.
Well, payback was hell. She was sure feeling now.
When she got back to Florida, she and Donald would talk. In case he hadn’t quite gotten it through his thick head, she’d make it crystal clear exactly where they stood. They were not a couple. They had no future. They would never have a future.