Page 78 of Miss Understood

I swat her with the magazine, and she scurries off the bed.

“Out! I’ll hop in the shower. Cue up Chris Hemsworth hanging off a building,” I say. “Preferably with a wall of flames behind him, but I’m open.”

“Yeah, yeah, I got you, girl,” Monica says with a laugh as she heads toward the living room.

With Monica gone, the reality of my bedroom hits me. Two days’ worth of food containers piled in the trash. A bed that’s well slept in, full of pillows that have been stained by my stupid tears. And don’t even get me started on the girl staring back at me from the mirror above the dresser. Eyes that have the same sad expression I’ve seen on the other side of the table at my office more times than I can count. Half of the light in them gone out.

I’m a hot fucking mess—without the hot, unless we’re referring to my pits. Leaning over, I take my first whiff of myself in days, and I really wish I hadn’t.

Ew.

Hopping in the shower, I let the sadness wash off me, even if it doesn’t take the empty ache along with it.

Monica’s right. I know better than to wallow and hide. Especially over a man, no matter how hot, smart, funny, amazing—

No matter what.

Because even with a broken heart, I realize I am still here. I’m not a puddle at his feet that can’t move. I am a woman with ambition and strength, and I’m going to do something with it. My dad didn’t raise a girl who would sit back and be prey in some man’s crosshairs. He raised a hunter, on the prowl, ready to strike.

The hot water is a flash on skin that was cold from emptiness. And I take that for what it is. Something. Anything. A breath of life flowing over me and telling me that Jesse isn’t my only source of warmth.

After I get out, I wipe my hand across the mirror, sweeping away the fog to stare at the girl underneath. I look her in the eye as a reminder.

You are Lucille Stevens, and you will not let Jesse Davis be the end of you.

Whether my heart believes me when I say it or not is another story.

28

Luce

Mateowrapsmeina hug that takes most of the air from my chest. “You are not leaving; I refuse to accept this.”

“I’ll miss you too,” I say.

He pulls away and shakes his head. “Don’t you dare say crap like that to me. There will be nomissing. I expect to see you for drinks on the regular.”

“Absolutely.”

Mateo squeezes my hands, his sky-blue eyes peeking through a curtain of dark brown hair that he purposely uses to hide their glassiness. The hardest part about leaving the firm is saying goodbye to certain people. Namely, Mateo.

“I love him, but he’s being a fucking idiot.” Mateo shakes his head.

My stomach sinks at the thought of Jesse—which is only marginally better than the blender it goes through at the sight of him. Luckily, it’s been sparingly these past two weeks, but unavoidable nonetheless. I did my best to stay in my office, tying up loose ends, going through my files. Mateo would keep me updated on Jesse’s schedule. So, apart from the few meetings we both attended, I was able to maintain my distance. But it never got easier.

“He was being realistic,” I say, and Mateo glares at me. “It was an impossible situation, and he made the hard call for the both of us.”

“You don’t need to defend him.”

“I’m not,” I say, smoothing my skirt with my hands. “But we are both adults who knew it would end eventually. This here is the end. What else is there to say?”

“Luce.” My name hangs like a warning in the air between us. “You’re both too calm and collected about this for your own good. That might be a desirable quality in the courtroom, but in love, sometimes you have to go kicking and fucking screaming if you really care about it. You both are walking around here like you feel nothing.”

I know he’s right, but if I let myself think about Jesse in the way my heart keeps begging me to, I’ll probably throw myself at him and make a huge mistake. Cordial is all I have left. It’s all that separates me from the couples I deal with at work, one crying when the other has clearly moved on. It’s not a risk I’m willing to take.

“I feel plenty,” I say, giving Mateo a reassuring nod. “For example, right now I feel hungry. So grab a burger with me, and let this Jesse thing go.”

He rolls his eyes but says, “Fine.”

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