Page 141 of Lucas
“Lucas...” She gives me a reproachful look, shaking her head.
“What? I want to know if there’s a chance she’ll forgive me. Does she ask about me?” I press, undeterred. I need to know. I need some sliver of hope to cling to.
Cora studies me for a long moment, then drops her gaze. “Yes.”
My heart leaps, a wild, desperate hope unfurling in my chest. She’s not indifferent to me. She still cares, still worries. Because everyone knows the opposite of love isn’t hate—it’s indifference. If she hates me, I can work with that. Hate is passionate. Hate can be turned.
But indifference? That would be a death knell, the end of everything.
So I’ll take her anger, her hurt. I’ll weather the storm of her emotions gladly if it means there’s still a chance.
Still a chance for us. For our future.
I’ll grovel, I’ll beg, I’ll do whatever it takes.
And I won’t rest until she’s back where she belongs.
I park in front of her house, just like I have every day for the past few weeks. I watch her silhouette move through the rooms, from the bathroom to the bedroom and then to the living room. I’ve developed a new game to pass the time. The guessing game. I try to guess what she’s doing at each moment. She’s probably putting food out for Cartman now.
I press the button on the car’s speakerphone and dial.
“The Haven Sanctuary,” a woman’s voice answers. “This is Stephanie. How may I assist you?”
“Hello, Stephanie. My name is Lucas Valeur. You rescue parrots, correct?” I lean back in my car seat, a smile tugging at my lips. They don’t know what’s about to hit them.
“That’s right, we’re a parrot rescue center.”
“Excellent. I want to donate.”
“Wonderful, sir. Thank you. I’d be happy to take downyour information. A donation of thirty dollars will feed a parrot for a month. A hundred dollars will feed three parrots.” Stephanie chirps, her voice bright with enthusiasm.
“I was thinking more like ten million dollars?”
Stephanie chokes and starts coughing, sputtering into the phone.
My smile widens into a full-blown grin.
“Marcus! Marcus, come here. Now!” she yells, her voice muffled like she’s covering the receiver. “I’m sorry, sir, did you say…ten million?”
“I did,” I confirm, fighting back a laugh.
“You’re not mistaken?” she asks as if she can’t quite believe her ears.
“I’m not mistaken. I was thinking maybe you could use a new facility for the parrots?” I suggest, my tone mild.
“Yes, of course, sir. That would be incredible,” Stephanie gushes, her words tumbling over each other in her excitement.
There’s rustling in the background. “The gentleman on the phone wants to donate a whole new facility to us. Ten million dollars.”
More muffled voices filter through, a rapid-fire exchange I can’t quite make out.
“Excuse me, Mr. Valeur, is it?” A man’s voice comes on the line, deep and authoritative.
“That’s right,” I confirm.
“You’re interested in donating an entire facility to us?” he asks, a note of disbelief coloring his words.
“Yes. I have just one request. I want you to name it after my wife, Ava, or whatever name she chooses. And I want you to keep her informed of all the details. I want her to be involved in the planning process.”
