Suddenly I’m back on Darcy and Ray’s porch, my feet cool on the wooden planks. The day’s bright; early morning sun shines through a wispy shroud of clouds. The sight of the black Mercedes dims my mood. What’s it doing here?
Lucas stands before me, a pot in his hands.
“I’m in love with you,” he says.
I can’t see what’s inside the pot, but surely nothing’s there. He doesn’t want me, not the way I want to be wanted. He’s just saying that because he needs me to get the painting.
But I’m not strong enough to resist his words—the five most precious words in the world.
Tell him he’s poison. Tell him it’s over. There is nothing between you. Only you think you have something, and you’ll end up suffering because it’s just not true. When are you going to wake up?
But I can’t. I’m too weak to resist him.
Tears spring to my eyes. I let them fall as my legs fold. “I love you too, Lucas.”
His face splits into the most blinding smile I’ve ever seen. Unable to stop the tears, I soak up its radiance on my knees, enraptured like the humblest worshipper before her god.
He brings the pot forward. In the center of the dirt is a small green sprout, so precious, so full of potential. Suddenly my heart is bursting with joy. What we have isn’t a one-way trip to misery, like I feared. There is something we can nurture and grow. In time it’ll become stronger, nourish our souls.
The black Mercedes vaporizes, turning into tendrils of coal smoke. Everything vanishes, leaving only two of us. And it’s enough. I need nothing so long as I have Lucas.
I raise my hands to touch him. But somehow he’s beyond reach. I stretch, but he’s just at my fingertips. We’re so close I can graze my nails against his skin.
“Lucas.” His smile only grows more brilliant, and my desperation mounts. “Don’t move. Let me hold you.”
The beatific expression still on his face, he shakes his head. “Ava, surely you know this can’t last.”
Apprehension frosts my mind. “What do you mean?”
“Look at us.”
And I do, really do. He glows like the sun, while I’m dim and drab in cheap, clearance-rack clothes. My hands are work-rough, and I know without having to look that my teeth are nicotine-stained, like my mom’s.
“How can there be anything permanent between us? When are you going to wake up?”
“Lucas… You said you loved me.”
“Love doesn’t last.” He holds out the terra-cotta pot. The green sprout is no more. In its place is a brittle brown thing, withered and without hope or future.
Lucas gazes somewhere beyond my shoulder with tender longing, and I turn and see Faye walking toward us, her eyes on him. Stylish stilettos exaggerate her pelvic swing, and she looks like something out of a movie. She is soft, all feminine curves, with a sweetness that says she’s lived a pampered life. Diamonds on her throat sparkle as she lays a hand on his arm. “Darling.”
He takes the slim hand and kisses the knuckles. “Love.”
Something inside me shrivels and dies like the shoot in the pot. Somewhere Mia cries, and Lucas stares at me dispassionately. “You should’ve known better. A baby was never going to be enough. There’s nothing of worth you can give me. You just aren’t good enough, and nothing’s ever going to change that. When are you going to wa—”
I jackknife up. Sweat has beaded on my skin, and my clammy nightshirt sticks to it. It’s barely six. I rub my eyes, take a deep breath.
It was just a bad dream, nothing more. I should go back to sleep. My plane didn’t land until almost midnight in Dulles, and I drove over two hours to reach Ray and Darcy’s home afterward in a rental car. It was easier than trying to get a flight that would bring me all the way to the small airport in Charlottesville.
But sleep is the last thing on my mind.
I put on workout leggings, a shirt and a pair of running shoes. If I can’t sleep, I might as well get some exercise.
It’s still a bit dark, but the streetlights illuminate everything. The air is crisp but feels cleansing as it saws in and out of my lungs. I put my body on autopilot, letting my feet take me wherever as I focus on the rhythm of each stride.
Some time passes, and I suddenly realize I’m in front of Lucas’s house. In its driveway is the sleek black Mercedes—not Lucas’s—I saw last night coming back from the airport. Although Lucas’s home isn’t on the way, I made a detour because…well, I don’t know what I was trying to accomplish. It’s not like I was planning to resume what we had.
I swallow. Maybe I needed a sign that he’s fine without me. Concrete, undeniable proof that he lied when he told me he was in love with me.