Someone Like You (12 page)

“Am I going to get fired?”

“If I don’t interfere,” Jason said, snapping his fingers. “And you should be more worried about your heart than your job.”

“I don’t want to dwell on this. To think I believed him-”

“Just… just drink up,” Jason said, emptying the remaining contents of the wine into her glass.

Chapter Eight: Little Realizations and Big Determinations

Lucas arrived late that dreary Monday morning. Alice said nothing as he went past her desk and into his office. She knew about what had happened. Snippets of gossip reached the lower echelons of the office. She had heard that Jennifer Edwards had slapped Alex (the poor girl, she thought) and that there was a dramatic confrontation at the gala. She saw the peeved look on her boss’s face and decided to say nothing. It looked like he hadn’t slept or eaten.

She took a deep breath and pressed his intercom.

“You have a meeting at one o’clock. Should I cancel it?”

There was few seconds’ worth of a pause. “No,” he replied shortly. “This is with the Shinseki group right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Make sure there’s tea,” he added.

“Will do.”

He said nothing more as he held the tip of a pen against his temple. He tapped it twice then put the pen down. His fingers skimmed against his MacBook’s keyboard, not typing anything. He gave a deep sigh. He tried not to let it bother him, he had tried to sleep. Who the hell was he kidding? It was like he thought about her every second, the scenes from Saturday replaying. He envisioned ways to stop her, to man up against his father and defend her, to have said something harsh without regard for Jennifer’s feelings.

Too late, he thought wryly, she’s probably cursed me for a lifetime of heartache.

His brother came in without warning, lighting a cigarette as he closed the door.

“Could you not?” Lucas said with a sigh.

“It helps relieve stress, Luke.”

Lucas opened a window. “It’s gonna stick to the couch.”

“It won’t,” Michael said, approaching the window that was open. He blew smoke out and looked at his younger brother. “You look like crap.”

“I feel like crap.”

“You’re that affected?”

“What? You’re going to screw me up today, too?

“Just observing,” Michael said. “What happens now?”

“What? I go on with my life, she goes on with hers.”

“You do realize she models for Trekker.”

“Thank you for pointing that out,” Lucas huffed. “Did you see Charles today?”

“Avoided him like a plague. He’s still pissed.”

“What has he been doing?”

“Yesterday Ben told me he went to a few art galleries.”

“Typical,” Lucas said.

Michael stubbed his cigarette on the windowsill. He eyed his younger brother’s home screen. It was a picture of him kissing Alex. He grinned.

“God, you’re in love with her,” he said.

“What?” Lucas said flustered.

“Isn’t it obvious? And here I thought you were the smart one,” Michael said, rolling his eyes.

His intercom rang.

“Lucas, your father wants to see you,” Alice said.

“Damn,” Lucas groaned.

“Good luck,” Michael said, taking his leave.

Lucas rode the elevator, his mind devoid of thoughts. He felt empty. Like nothing was worth it anymore. He entered his father’s office without saying hello to his father’s secretary.

“Yes?” Lucas said as he closed his father’s door.

His father had his back turned against him. “The Shinseki group—is it good to go?” he said in a gruff voice.

“Yes,” he said dully. “Look, I have to get back.”

“How do you find this painting I bought?”

Lucas stopped midway and sighed. “What painting?” he said as he turned around to face his father.

His father walked towards a small painting framed in black wood. Lucas walked towards it.

“What? My opinion for a painting matters now?”

His father said nothing as he looked at his son and back at the painting. Lucas’ eyes narrowed. It looked so familiar…

“It reminds me of something,” Charles said suddenly, in a soft voice.

It was a watercolour painting of a boy and his mother. He could faintly feel the sea breeze on his skin and the tang of salt on his lips and the laughter; he could hear the laughter of his mother and father and his brother…

“Where did you get this?” Lucas asked, unable to take his eyes off of the painting.

“I found it in a small art gallery down east,” his father replied simply, eyeing him.

“This is—it reminds me of…”

“It reminds me of your mother. And you.”

He stared at his father, unable to believe he was hearing it. For the first time in years, Charles had mentioned his mother; in front of him, nonetheless.

“I was told the young artist was excellent with watercolour,” Charles told him.

Lucas looked at his father, realizing that Charles had just bought a painting done by Alex.

“I believe this was your mother’s way of telling me something.”

Lucas stared at this father. Charles had just admitted he was wrong. He shook his head. “You’re…so this is…?”

He knew his father had this knack for buying art on bad days. He knew last weekend was no exception as he had probably lost a potential socialite for a daughter-in-law.

“I asked Ben to drive around. This small, newly opened gallery caught my eye,” his father told him as he walked around his office. “I browsed through the paintings, mostly in oil. Then I spotted one in the far corner. I recognized your mother immediately and you. That painting was inspired by the photo in the kitchen, right?”

Lucas could only nod. Her personality shone through the painting. He could see the light, feathery yet highly detailed strokes, the colour palette she had used. It was a painting that could evoke bittersweet memories.

“It hit me hard. I damn near cried seeing it,” Charles said, his voice choked. Then he cleared this throat.

“I didn’t know she would… we were cooking pasta that day. She remembered this…”

“You know, when I fell in love with your mother, I defied your grandparents to marry her. They wanted me to marry a Vanderbilt. I wanted to marry your mother the day I saw her. I did after six months and I never regretted a day in my life. She gave me two sons that I haven’t shown much affection to and this painting…it brought back so many memories.”

“Why are you telling me this now?” Lucas said, taking in a breath.

“So you can start getting Alex Forbes back.”

Lucas’ eyes widened. “What?”

“You heard what I said.”

“Father I—”

“I never regretted a day in my life marrying your mother. I don’t want you having any regrets years from now.”

Lucas took in a deep breath. “Dad…”

His father nodded and turned his back on Lucas. “You’re excused. The Shinseki group will meet with me.”

Lucas stared at his father’s back and he nodded once. “Thank you... for everything.”

Lucas ran out of the office immediately. Charles turned to face the door again. He gave a small smile and shook his head. The boy was as in love as he once was. He walked towards the painting again and stared at it for quite a while. He bit his lower lip and gave out a deep sigh, recalling his wife of eleven wonderful years. He recalled her hilarity, the day they were introduced, the day she said yes to his flustered proposal… he had hoped his sons would love their future wives as much as he did. Then he shook his head again, hoping things would turn out all right for Lucas.

* * * *

Lucas’ heart was pounding as he drove like mad. All those little moments with her, those were the ones that mattered most.

“Oh god!” she muttered as he helped her up.

“You okay?”

“Sorry? Yeah. It’s fine. Don’t you know how to walk in heels?” he joked.

“I can manage walking in heels, thank you very much.”

He smiled remembering that day, the day she tripped. She tripped for a reason. He realized it. If she hadn’t, he’d have never met her.

“Mrs. Jenkins?” Lucas said, approaching the old lady who was about to go up the stairs.

“Why, if it isn’t Lucas Conrad.”

“Alex hasn’t been answering her phone. I was wondering if—”

“Oh, she left earlier. Caught up for a flight to Chicago or was that Florida,” she said congenially.

Lucas’ eyes widened. “She what? Did she say anything? Where specifically?”

Mrs. Jenkins shrugged. “She just said she was leaving for a little vacation.”

Mrs. Jenkins saw the desperation in his eyes. “Is something the matter, young man?”

“I—nothing. I just need to tell her something.”