She takes the hint and steps back. I wish her luck with her pregnancy and then go back to pretending to read my journal. It’s only when she walks out that I realize I never asked her what she meant by “moving his stuff upstairs.”
I’d heard they were putting lofts in some of the second stories along Main Street, but…surely he isn’t right above me right now. My spine trembles and I slowly raise my eyes to the ceiling, as if expecting drops of blood to drip on my forehead like in a horror movie.
Instead I see only exposed ductwork and wiring, and I feel like a fool. I’ve thought about Lucas for longer than I care to. It feels like I’m already losing a competition that doesn’t even exist, so for the next few minutes, I pretend I’m back at Duke, a million miles away from Lucas. The daydream does wonders for my nerves, and I can almost imagine a world in which he doesn’t exist.
After I’ve settled into the Oscar-worthy impression of calm I’m determined to exude, a door opens outside, adjacent to the coffee shop’s front entrance. I scrunch my brows and lean closer to the window, watching in slow motion as a man walks out onto the sidewalk. A man I’d hoped to avoid for a lifetime, or at least another five minutes. A man who is the very bane of my existence.
Chapter Four
My mouth dries. My hands shake. My stomach plummets and then flips over and over like a rollercoaster set to MAX SPEED. Technically, I’m getting my wish—I’m seeing him before he sees me—but my wish has changed and I want him to disappear, to go back up to his hidey-hole and stay there forever.
His back is to me and I begin an assessment of him that’s purely scientific. His hair is dark brown, thick and trimmed by someone who knows what they’re doing. He’s wearing navy slacks and a crisp white button-down. His brown leather watch matches his belt and shoes. At some point over the years, a woman must have taught him how to color coordinate, presumably before he chopped her up and turned her into jerky.
He turns to look both ways before crossing the street. He doesn’t do it because it’s what his mother taught him—I know he’s looking for me, ensuring I’m not waiting with a souped-up Ford Bronco, prepared to mow him down. For a few seconds, I’m provided with a view of his profile. Of course. I curse time and testosterone. 11 years have taken his chubby cheeks and sharpened them to hard lines. They’ve stretched his tall frame and blown it up like a muscled balloon. Without a doubt, he eats protein and has a gym membership.
In high school, he preferred contact lenses. Now, he is wearing thick black frames like he has an audition for some new superhero movie after work and he’s trying to step into the role early. Pathetic. They suit him.
Once he’s sure the coast is clear, he takes a step out onto the street. Soundlessly, I rise and tail him like an undercover cop. When I slip out of the coffee shop, Lucas doesn’t turn, but he immediately spots me in the reflection of the plate glass that fronts McCormick Family Practice—my hair is too bright to go unnoticed. Our eyes lock in the mirrored surface and neither of us turns or wavers. We’re the only ones out on the street; I could scald him with Dr. McCormick’s coffee and claim it was an accident. It would be his word against mine, and I’m adorable, but this coffee already has a purpose.
Our steps clap in unison, left, right, left, right. I desperately yearn to touch the door handle first, a tiny achievement, but it’s impossible unless I break into a sprint. Too desperate even for me. He reaches the door first and I predict he will step inside and lock it behind him. Instead, he steps back and holds it open for me.
I know it’s just an act. Chivalry is dead. Lucas killed it.
When I’m a step away from brushing past him, he smiles coyly and sticks his foot out to trip me. Without breaking stride, I take an exaggerated step over it.
“Did you like the flowers?” he asks.
His voice is deeper and smoother than it was on the phone, like a dark liquor, the kind that leaves you with a nasty hangover.
I smile. “They’re rotting in the garbage.”
“And the card?” His malevolent tone confirms the flowers and the card were less of a gift, and more of a Trojan horse into my psyche.
“It burned nicely.”
Our first encounter in 11 years is sharp. I’m not surprised we’re picking up right where we left off.
We step into the lobby and Dr. McCormick is waiting for us with the rest of the staff. They’re wearing eager smiles and I don my own, careful to tilt my head away from Lucas so he can’t see.
“WELCOME DOCTORS!” they all shout, pointing to the homemade banner hanging behind the reception desk.
My smile widens as our boss steps within earshot. “Good morning, everyone! Dr. McCormick, I brought your usual from The Brew. As for everyone else, the first coffee break is on me today.”