Lucy Wagner Gets In Shape (A Romantic Comedy) (17 page)

“So, you’re leaving to work at a school that you hate, and Will’s going to follow you to work at a school that
he
will probably hate, just so Princess Lucy can be her
best
.” She waves her arms in a dramatic flourish, and I’m this close to slapping the nasty smirk off her face.

“What, are you saying it’s okay for me to compromise my goals for him, but it’s not okay for him to do the same for me?”

“No, dumbass, I’m saying you’ve set your goals around some unrealistic notion of success, and that no goal is worth ruining your life. Not to mention the innocent lives of others.” She opens the mini-fridge for another yogurt—heated disagreements rarely come between Jen and food. I once saw her polish off an entire Cobb salad during a twenty-minute throw down with Dax.

“How exactly am I ruining my life, Oprah?”

“Do you want to work at LSU?” My silence seems to goad her forward. “Did you meet a single person in the department that you liked? Are you interested in living in Louisiana?”

More heavy silence. Damn her.

“You didn’t even care when you thought you’d blown your interview. Face it, Lucy, the only part of you that wants that shitty job is your slightly inflated ego.”

Double damn her.

I look down at my lap in defeat. As with any verbal lashing I get from Jen, I must comb through the rubble and figure out if she’s right. Unfortunately, in this case, I think she is.

“Who exactly are you trying so hard to impress?” She finally asks, scraping the last bite out of her second (I hope it’s only her second) yogurt cup.

Well, that is the question, isn’t it?

***

By the time I make it to the house, it’s getting close to sundown. I’d practiced my speech in my head over and over, but I’m still not quite sure what I’m going to say when he answers the door.

“Lucy, what are you doing here?” The look on his face is surprised, but pleased.

“Hey Dad. Just thought I’d stop by for a visit. Are you busy?” I scrape my toe against the sidewalk nervously, and he immediately backs up and ushers me in.

“Of course not! How are you, darling?” I’m not a ‘pop-in without calling’ kind of daughter, so I know he’s a bit taken aback.

“I’m good. Can we talk for a minute?”

“Oh…sure, sure.” We head for the kitchen table, which is the place we’ve gone for family talks since I was a little girl. He offers me something to drink, and I refuse. It’s all very awkward, so I just start rambling, to get things over with.

“Dad, I turned down that job at LSU. I never wanted it. I never even wanted to do much research, really. I prefer teaching, but I guess I was too wrapped up in what I ‘should’ be doing to pay much attention to what I actually enjoyed.” I’ve pulled the elastic out of my ponytail, and I’m wrapping it around my index finger. We both watch quietly as my fingertip turns blue.

“Is there a reason why you’re here telling me this? I feel like there’s something more you want to say.” He pauses for a moment, then mutters, “Please don’t cut off your finger over it, whatever it is.”

I unwind the elastic and release a big sigh. “Dad…since Mom died,…everything’s been so different, you know?” He nods, urging me on. “When I went back to school, after the funeral, I felt so guilty. You were here alone, grieving, and Evan was such a pain in the ass, and then you got the news about your high blood pressure, and I just…” I stop for a breath, choosing my words carefully. “I started arranging my life and my choices around you. I felt like I had to take care of you, since Mom wasn’t around to do it anymore. So I did things I thought would make you happy. But they didn’t always make me happy.”

“Like what things?” He asks gently.

“Oh, I don’t know, like dating a doctor who was an complete shit, and staying here in Houston instead of going to Columbia for grad school, and using $2,000 of my student loan money to bail Evan out of jail so you wouldn’t find out.” Oops, I probably shouldn’t have said that last part.

Dad smiles for a moment, then takes my hand in his across the old, scratched oak table. “Honey, I’m not a total idiot. I knew you wanted to go to Columbia—I tried like hell to get you to go, but you refused.” I nod, remembering the fights we’d had. At the time, I didn’t think he was ready to be alone. Or maybe I was the one who wasn’t ready.

“And I knew Evan was in jail.” My eyebrows raise at this one, but I say nothing. “And I definitely knew Paul was a right piece of shit.”

“A huge, steaming pile,” I add, and he smiles.

“The point is, I’m not as clueless as you might think. You’ve been hovering and worrying for years, but I thought when you were ready, you’d move on. And I guess, if I’m being totally honest, I did like the attention. You’ve made the last seven years a hell of a lot less lonely for me.”

“But Dad…if I gone on to Columbia, do you think you might have ventured out and gotten a social life by now?”

He seems to consider this carefully. “Possibly. But I don’t regret that you stuck around. I needed you. And I think you needed me. God knows Evan needed the bail money,” he chuckles.

“I don’t regret it either. If I hadn’t stayed, I’d never have met Will. He’s the one I’m supposed to be with. Here, in Houston.” Dad squeezes my hand and nods approvingly. But it’s good to know that even if he didn’t approve, I’d do it anyway.

Chapter Eighteen

I ring the doorbell with my elbow, since my hands are full of take-out from Frosted Lucky Chans. The door opens with a vigorous tug, and before I know it, the bags are deposited on the floor, and Will is kissing me like a starving man, his hands wandering to several inappropriate places, making me squirm with shocked delight.

“Aren’t you going to ask me why I’m here, unannounced, with food?” I gasp, after I break away from his lips.

“I don’t give a shit why you’re here, I’m just glad you came. It feels like I haven’t seen you in weeks.” Actually, it’s been two days, but as his lips continue to graze the side of my neck, I’m beginning to think that two days is too long.

“Hey, slow down there, big boy. We need to talk.”

“About what?” He asks. But he’s still rubbing small circles with his fingertips on my lower back, and it’s super distracting. I grab behind my back for his hand and drag him and the wilting Chinese food into the living room, and we both fall heavily on the couch.

“Listen, I’m not taking the job at LSU.” He opens his mouth to argue, but I clap my palm over it. “And it’s not because of you, Mr. Ego. It’s because of me. I don’t want it. I hate that school, and most of the people there are jerks, and I don’t want to be tied to a research agenda for the next seven years. I want to have a life. So I’m staying here, and applying for some teaching positions, at smaller schools. And don’t try to talk me out of it.”

Will’s eyes are big and solemn, and I remove my hand from his mouth tentatively. “When did you decide all this?” He asks softly.

“Last night. I had a long talk with my Dad--we had some things to work through. Our relationship, since my mom died…it’s been kind of screwed up. I’ve been jumping through hoops to please him, I guess because I wanted to fix him or something.”

“Because you’re a good daughter.” Will brushes my hair behind my ear.

“Well, that too, obviously,” I grin. “I still need your help packing up my condo, though. I have to move out by the end of next week.”

“I know…but the trip from there to here is pretty short, eh?” I give him a silly grin, so that if he wants to take it as a joke, I won’t be totally humiliated. He returns my grin and slides towards me, trapping me against the side of the couch with his arms.

“Are you saying you want to move in with me? Because that is an awesome idea, but my mom would have a stroke if I lived with someone I wasn’t at least engaged to. I told you she’s a smother.”

What the hell? I stare into his deep green eyes, and I have absolutely no idea if he’s serious or not. “Are you asking me to marry you?”

“Not yet. But I will. I mean, someday soon.” He nudges my nose tenderly with his, and I’m staring at him, almost cross-eyed. He’s beautiful to me, even up-close and blurry. And I know he will ask me to marry him, and I know I’ll say yes.

“Nah, I think I’ll just stick to the couch.” I push him away firmly, and he lunges forward to grab my waist, lifting me off the couch and dragging me, half-kicking and half-giggling like a maniac, down the hall to his bedroom. He throws me sideways against the mattress and begins giving me the most delicious kisses, slow and sweet and lingering, his tongue dragging slowly along my bottom lip.

“You taste like Mike and Ike’s,” he murmurs against my chin.

“Well, that’s odd, because I haven’t had any sweets today.”

He looks at me dubiously, then leans to graze my lips with his. “Then I guess you just always taste like candy. Sweet. Fun. Happy.” He punctuates each word with a kiss.

“I love you,” I say. I don’t have any other words.

“I love you, too. Are we going to have Chinese before or after I ravish your bod?” He’s already moved his palm under my t-shirt, sliding it up towards my bra.

“I dunno, I’m kind of hungry. Can we eat in bed?” The idea of eating in bed with a man has always seemed incredibly decadent and sexy to me. I guess because food and, uhh, bedding men are my two passions.

“Sure,” he says, jumping off the bed and heading to get the take-out bags. He’s three steps out the door when he turns suddenly and pops his head back in.