Page 29 of Lucas

Before I can respond, his mouth closes over mine. The contact is soft and tender at first. My body goes pliant in response. I part my lips allowing his tongue access, and his hand threads through the hair at the base of my neck and pulls me to him.

I melt into his soul, my blood humming with happiness, as the carnival music plays on and we spin in slow circles, the world all around us, fading to gray.

Chapter 14

Marnie eyes my Converse sneakers with mild curiosity.

I set my feet on my desk and tie up the laces, then roll up the cuffs of my ripped jeans. The forecast warns of a cooler afternoon, so I’ve paired my thin T-shirt with the leather jacket Lucas bought for the Metallica concert.

That’s what catches Liz’s attention.

“New?” she says, more accusation than question.

“Thrift shop,” I lie. I’m acutely aware that my every move is monitored, which is why I’m hanging out at the office until the very last second, hoping my partners might cut out early so I can slip out before rush hour hits and I’m trapped in the quagmire of people with places to go, loved ones to see.

Lucas and I are going to the Brooklyn Bazaar.

I’ve caught glimpses of Lucas’s inner child throughout the week, but on this date, I plan to tease it out all the way. Make him really let loose. I might even get him up to sing Karaoke if I play my cards right.

The clock tick tocks to the four-thirty slot. Half an hour. That’s it and I’m out of here.

“Marnie has filed this week’s main columns,” Liz says. Her voice carries across the room with authority, reminding me that she enjoys the role of “boss.” “If you want to give them a read, that would be appreciated.”

“I can do those tomorrow,” I say, nonchalantly. I scroll through the internet, clicking through the pictures on my various social media accounts. I’ve stopped posting on most of them as per the advice of our lawyer. “It’s almost quitting time anyway.”

Liz clears her throat. “We have that meeting with the lawyer tomorrow.”

I blink. “Right. Okay. Well it won’t take all day, I’ll edit Marnie’s columns after that.”

“You said that yesterday,” Liz says, her voice growing thicker with annoyance. “And the day before that. In fact, I don’t remember the last time you’ve edited anything. The previous issue went to press with four typos.” She holds up her fingers. “Four. Plus a few embarrassing grammatical errors.”

I scrunch up my nose. “We’re short staffed. That’s bound to happen.” Prior to the cuts we had writers, editors, proofers, designers. A team of people dedicated to making sure each issue went out with precision. “I’ll give it an extra run through this week. How’s that?”

Liz scoffs. “Unless it means you have to work one second past office hours, right?”

“I don’t appreciate your tone, right now.” I begin gathering the paperwork on my desk, shifting it into piles just to keep my hands busy. I’d anticipated confrontation, but now just isn’t a good time. “I apologized and will keep it in mind.”

“Sure,” Liz says.

I blow out a breath. “If you’ve got something to say, Liz…”

“Okay, girls, let’s cool it for now,” Marnie interjects. “Eden obviously has plans tonight, and I think this discussion should hold off until cooler heads prevail.”

“Right, as long as it fits into Eden’s busy social calendar,” Liz snaps.

“Back off, Liz,” I warn. I get that she’s angry but now isn’t the time. My week with Lucas is almost over, and then it’s back to normal, or at least whatever normalcy I can carve out. She can hold on for a couple more days.

Liz snatches her purse off the floor and slings it over her shoulder. Her spine stiffens. “I’m going home. Marnie, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“And me,” I say, pushing now, because I apparently don’t know when to shut up. “I’ll be here too.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it.”

I don’t bother chasing after her. Liz is the type that needs to cool down before she can see logic, and with our current stress levels at peak numbers, our tempers are bound to explode. The door slams hard enough to make me flinch, confirming it.

“She’s just upset that you’re not telling us what’s going on with you,” Marnie says, softly. Her tender voice ratchets up my guilt. “You don’t tell us where you’re going. You’re late. It’s not just your grammar that’s off, but that’s bad enough.”

I allow a small smile. “I am a bit anal.” Usually.