But he knew nothing.
Lucas fought to regain his legendary control, but all he felt was a cloak of despair suffocating him.
“I need to get out, I need to leave.”
Frankie drew up her shoulders, disappointment etched across her face, distaste showing in the straight, firm line of her drawn-together mouth. She pointed. “The door’s there, Lucas. Feel free to use it.”
#
He made such a mess of everything and yet there was one person who would understand. Someone who would listen to him talk and not judge, because she’d never once questioned his choices or criticised his actions.
He was right.
His mother welcomed him as though it had been days rather than years since they’d last seen each other. Lucas marvelled at her strength and dignity despite what he’d put her through.
“I’ve made a complete mess of things with Frankie,” he acknowledged.
“You’re talking to the wrong person.” His mother smoothed a hand along his jawline. It was the third time she’d leant over and touched him, as though she couldn’t quite believe he was real. “You should be telling Frankie this.”
“How can I be sure she’ll ever want to talk to me after what I’ve done?” Lucas pulled a hand through his hair. “I told her repeatedly I didn’t want anything serious.”
“The only way to find out how she feels is to ask her. Tell her how you feel.” His mother paused dramatically. “Beg if you have to.”
“Beg?” he repeated doubtfully.
“If you love her and you want her in your life, I think a little begging might be in order.”
“How the hell am I going to do that?” Lucas looked towards his mother, wanting her to give him all the answers. It wasn’t as though he had any previous experience with women and relationships to draw on.
“Start with how you feel about her, how she makes you feel. And go from there,” his mother advised.
“And that will work?” His mother’s idea didn’t sound like much.
“No, dear,” she replied. “I said that would be a start.”
“Hell.”
“Exactly. But if I’m not mistaken, that’s pretty much where you are without Frankie, isn’t it?”
He hadn’t wanted this, had gone into things with Frankie eyes wide open, but somewhere along the line, he’d fallen in love with her and now he didn’t want to live his life without her in it.
If begging was what he had to do, then begging was what he’d do.
#
Weeks later, Frankie arrived early at the imposing building hosting the auction of her clothing and accessories. She wanted to be sure everything was displayed to perfection.
As she approached the front desk, a woman came towards her. Immediately on edge, Frankie waited for the usual—a flash as someone stuck a camera in her face. Or, worse, the sneaky reporters who approached her to ‘chat’, pretending they were ordinary members of the public. She steeled herself.
Though this woman looked familiar, somehow, her apprehension heightened. If she recognised her, then it made sense she was from one of the bigger magazines or newspapers. Frankie couldn’t think what else, or what other angle, any of them would have left to use; they’d all done a hatchet job on her already.
“Frankie?”
She hesitated, not wanting to speak to the other woman, but not wanting to give yet another someone a reason to refer to her as haughty or snooty. It shouldn’t matter, not anymore. She’d succeeded in changing her life and how the media perceived her wasn’t relevant for her future. But she couldn’t help herself. She was human, she wanted people to like her.
“Yes, can I help you?”
“I’m Lucas’s mother, Esther Davenport.”
It took Frankie a moment to recover. It certainly hadn’t been the answer she’d been expecting. “I’m not sure Lucas will be here today.”
“He will be here.” The other woman fiddled with her hair as though she were incredibly nervous. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
“You have?” Frankie repeated, dumbfounded. The Lucas she knew found it hard enough to talk about everyday things, let alone anything that vaguely resembled the personal. “From Lucas?”
“I know,” Esther laughed. “I find it hard to believe myself, but Lucas and I have been talking so much these last few weeks, and I have you to thank for that.”
“Me?” Frankie couldn’t seem to string more than a few words together at one time. Her brain was struggling to process the new information and marry it together with what she knew about Lucas. “Lucas has been talking about me?”
“Lucas came to see me a few weeks ago. We’ve talked through everything, his guilt over the crash, his father, how he felt afterwards. He’s realised how thoughtless he’s been.”
“I told him that.”