Page 6 of Say Yes To The Fake Date

I take a step toward her. “Why did you need to hire an attorney?”

She crosses her arms over her chest defensively.

“Lucy, why did you hire an attorney?”

She doesn’t want to tell me, but after a few seconds, she starts to talk. She won’t look at me, and I can see that as the story unfolds, she’s embarrassed to be in the situation she’s in. “I own a marketing company with my now ex-fiancé. I confronted him after I caught him having sex with our secretary. He gave me this”—she points at herface—“and then emptied out the company bank accounts.”

I take a step toward her and fist my hands at my sides. “A name. Just give me a name, and I’ll take care of it.”

Why can’t she look me in the eye? She keeps looking over my shoulder. She avoids my question altogether. “As you can see, I don’t have the money for my car, so I will come and get it as soon as I do. I’m sorry that you fixed it and I don’t have the money to—”

“Take the car, Lucky.”

Her eyes widen, and I wait for her to argue with me or get pissed that I’m using her nickname from the past, but instead, a single tear rolls down her cheek, and she wipes it away. “I’m not feeling too lucky right now.”

I take a step toward her, and when she doesn’t tense up, I take another. We’re so close I can breathe in her jasmine scent. It’s intoxicating. I reach for her and stop just inches from having my hands at her waist. “Let me hold you.”

She freezes then, and I see the need in her eyes. She needs to be held. “No strings attached, Lucky. Just let me hold you.”

“I’m fine,” she insists.

“Lucky,” I say softly.

She finally looks at me, and I can see how deep the hurt is. She’s on the verge of breaking, and I can’t just stand by and let her fall apart. I pull her to me, and she fights. She struggles in my arms, but I can’t let her go. I won’t.

Calmly, I try to soothe her. I have one arm around her shoulders, and the other one strokes up and down her back. “Let me hold you, Lucky. That’s all I want. Just let me do this.”

She doesn’t want to give in, but finally, she stops fighting me. Her hands are gripping the front of my shirt as she leans her forehead against my chest. I can feel the fight give out in her, and I haul her against me. She wraps her arms around my waist and cries into my shoulder, jolting with each sob that wracks through her body. She’s crying so hard her body is trembling, and I’ve never felt so lost in my life. I want to take all her pain away, and knowing that I’ve contributed to hurting her makes it all that much worse.

I walk her a few steps to my office, kick the door shut, and then sit down on the couch, pulling her with me. I hold her like I would a child, and she just continues to sob. I hold her a little too hard probably, but I don’t know what else to do. Lucianais a strong woman, she always has been, but seeing her like this is too much to bear.

“It’s okay. It’s all going to be okay.”

I stroke her back, repeating soft words of encouragement. I’m not sure how much time passes, but her cries start to slow down until she’s sniffling against my chest. She doesn’t raise her head, but she murmurs, “I’m sorry.”

I lock my arms around her. “Oh, Lucky, don’t be sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I shouldn’t have—”

I don’t let her finish. “Stop, it’s okay.”

She puts her hands on my chest and pushes back so she can look at me. “This doesn’t change anything. I haven’t forgiven you—”

I nod and wince as I look at her. Not only are her eyes red and puffy from crying, but she’s now covered in grease from my coveralls. “I don’t deserve forgiveness. I should be the one saying I’m sorry.”

She stiffens in my arms, and I know she’s putting her guard up. She doesn’t want to talk about our past, and she’s not going to listen to my apologies. I gesture to the grease stain that is now on her shirt. “I was trying to help, but I’ve covered you in grease. I’m sorry.”

She looks down at her shirt and surprises me with a smile. “It’s okay. A stained shirt is the least of my worries.”

She pushes against me to stand up, and I wish I could hold on to her and keep her where she’s at, but I release her. She stands up, shifting back and forth on her feet and then leans against the edge of my desk.

I stand up, grab the keys for her car off the hook, walk over to her, and drop the keys into her palm. “Take your car. I don’t want your money.”

She clenches them in her hand. “I don’t want to owe you, Dominic, and if I take this car without paying you, I’m going to owe you.”

“You won’t owe me anything.”

She shakes the keys in her hand and then holds them out to me. When I don’t reach for them, she puts them on the desk. “I’ll be back to get my car when I have the money to pay for it.”

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