“Lucy,” I tried once more.
“No,” she snapped. “You cut yourself off from the club. Your decision. Stupid one. But I get it. You do not, however, cut yourself off from your girlfriends,” she informed me snippily. I didn’t even have time to get a word in. “For a start, Gwen needs you. She’s having trouble with Belle and kid shit. Us,” she pointed to herself. “Much as we would like to help, we don’t know shit about kids. It’s not just her wanting you back ‘cause she needs your mom’s wisdom. She just plain misses you and Lexie.” She gave me a meaningful look. “We all do,” she finished softly.
I sank back into my chair, feeling thoroughly told off by a woman who I was pretty sure was at least five years younger than me. I felt like a chastised teenager.
“I’m sorry,” I started, my voice sounding tired; no, exhausted. “I didn’t want to. It killed me to cut myself and Lexie off from you girls, from—” I choked on the word, Zane. I couldn’t even say his name out loud. “I’m just doing what I thought was right, to keep Lexie safe,” I pleaded with her to understand that.
She raised her eyebrow. “Cutting yourself off from people you care about, people that care about you? That’s keeping her safe?” she said speculatively.
I sighed. “The shooting, the club. I can’t have that kind of shit happening to my kid. I’m her mom. I’m protecting her from that. The main job they give you when they hand you a kid is make sure it doesn’t die. That day I almost failed in that basic job.”
Lucy’s eyes softened. “Shit, babe. I don’t have a kid, so I don’t know what it’s like to love someone that much, to want to protect them from the world.” She paused, her eyes going far away for a second. “But that—what went down that day was once in a blue moon type crap.” She screwed her nose up. “No big, bad, biker males are gonna let that moon anywhere near their women again. They’d find a way to get up there and like beat the crap outta that moon if they had to.”
“They will try. But the club, the way they live their lives? Chances of that stuff happening when you’re connected with them, it grows,” I told her.
She looked at me a moment. “You’re right,” she said finally. “But most of the time the stuff worth having in life is the stuff that comes with the highest risk. Bet I could go my live without having kids, without findin’ a man to love ‘cause the risk of getting your heart broken skyrockets when you give it to someone else to look after.” She gave me a look. “I expect I could do that. You know, to protect myself from hurt. To protect my heart from dying. Problem is, if I did that, by protecting my heart from dying I’m also stopping it from living,” she said sagely. “Whatever your choice about the club, about a broken man who lives and breathes for you and your daughter, we’ll be here. If you let us back in.” She added the last part meaningfully. Something was working behind her eyes. Something that made me think her own advice had suddenly hit home. Most likely involving a very attractive man with an equally attractive accent.
I stared at her. “Holy shit,” I muttered. “You’re Yoda in Manolos.”
She laughed and it wasn’t delicate like I expected. It was throaty and I’m pretty sure there was a snort. Yoda did not snort.
She stood, giving my metallic jersey dress and sky high heels a once over. “I’m guessing you’ve got somewhere to be,” she guessed correctly. There was no judgment in her gaze. No silent “you crushed a man’s heart and are now going out with another, you man-eating bitch”, look. Just understanding. I stood and quickly hugged her, feeling lighter knowing I didn’t have to say goodbye to the friends who already meant a lot to me. “Thanks,” I told her hair.
She squeezed me before releasing me. “Cocktails tomorrow, all the girls. You’re there,” she ordered.
I nodded.
“You’re giving us the rundown on who you’re going on a date with. Then we can beat you silly for letting the other one go,” she declared.
There was no venom in her voice when she said it, but I felt a stab nonetheless. With an air kiss and a wink she was gone, and I was left standing in the middle of the room contemplating whether I had actually fucked my entire life up two months ago.
“Thanks,” I muttered across the car, my eyes glancing shyly at Clay. “That was fun,” I half lied.