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plausible explanation that isnā€™t shady, but I couldnā€™t think of anything.ā€

ā€œOkay,ā€ Leslie agrees. ā€œBut Lucas is the least shady person I know. And you havenā€™t felt this way about anyone inā€¦ Well, have you ever?ā€

Truthfully, no. Not even with Teganā€™s father; my relationship with him was never on an even plane. I was always kept in my place, and he reminded me constantly who the student and the professor were. It was subordinate. Unhealthy. Wrong.

But Lucasā€¦ Oh, he charmed me subtly, in a way I wasnā€™t ready to handle. He bamboozled me. Gained my trust little by little, only to squander everything by being caught in a lie.

And the worst part is that Tegan already identifies him as a father figure. He didnā€™t crush just me. He crushed the both of us, and I can never forgive him for that.

ā€œFine. I liked him, a lot. So what? Howā€™s that supposed to make it better? I just feel all the more duped.ā€

ā€œIā€™m telling you, Lucas is not the duping kind of guy,ā€ Leslie says firmly. ā€œAt least hear him out.ā€

***

I carry Leslieā€™s suggestion around with me all night as I toss in bed, not sleeping, and then all of Saturday as well. No matter how much I try to shake it off, sheā€™s planted a seed of doubt in my head.

Yes, I canā€™t explain why Lucas lied, but if I analyze the time Iā€™ve known him, there wasnā€™t a single occasion in which he hasnā€™t been completely honest with me. Well-behaved? Maybe not always. Especially not the first day we met when he yelled at me, but Iā€™m blaming that on sugar deprivation. Donā€™t touch the manā€™s donuts, Iā€™ve learned that much.

Is one lie worth closing the door on him forever?

The more I sit on it, the more uncertainty gnaws at me. Leslie has a pointā€”I did rush in dismissing him. I should have given him a chance to explain. Well, I still can. And, like all important things, it should be done face to face.

Decision made, Iā€™m in such a hurry to go that I donā€™t even change into more decent clothes. Sweats were good enough for Lucasā€™ so-called client emergency, and theyā€™ll do for an impromptu home visit.

Tegan has gone to the movies with friends again so, when I exit the house, I need nothing more than my bag and keys.

I have to ask Leslie for the address of Lucasā€™ condo, as I never got as far as going to his place. And this time, I donā€™t plan to do so in sexy lingerie. It gives me satisfaction that Iā€™m wearing the oldest, crappiest underwear set I own. No, not even a set, as the bra and panties are mismatched.

The trip to lower Manhattan doesnā€™t take too long on the subway, and his house is thankfully just a short walk from the station. Iā€™m searching the front door of the building for a bell or something when the glass doors open and Lucas comes out.

ā€œVivian.ā€ His eyes widen at finding me on his doorstep.

Heā€™s dressed casually in jeans and a dark green sweater. And, damn him, if he doesnā€™t look yummier than a triple-glazed donut, if those even exist.

ā€œWhat are you doing here?ā€ he asks.

ā€œI wanted to talk.ā€

Lucas tries to subtly check the time on his watch.

ā€œSomewhere you have to be?ā€ I ask.

He turns defensive. ā€œAs a matter of fact, yes.ā€

ā€œAnother emergency you canā€™t tell me about?ā€

ā€œIt isnā€™t an emergency, but I still canā€™t tell you where Iā€™m going. But, Vivianā€ā€”he gently grabs my wristā€”ā€œI want to talk to you. Thereā€™s nothing I want more.ā€

I yank my arm free. ā€œDonā€™t bother. Coming here was a mistake.ā€

ā€œVivian, please! I promise you Iā€™m not doing anything wrong, Iā€™m just protecting someone elseā€™s privacy.ā€

ā€œWho? A client?ā€

His lips go taut. ā€œI really canā€™t tell you any more than I already have. You have to trust me on this.ā€

And there it is, hanging between us like a sword, the unspoken question Iā€™m facing.

Can I trust him? Can I put blind faith into someone? A man?

If it were just meā€¦ maybe I could take the leap. But I canā€™t think just about myself. I havenā€™t for most of my adult life. Teganā€™s wellbeing will always come before anything else, and I canā€™t bring another man into our lives who has secrets. However innocent he claims they are, I need total transparency in a relationship.

I shake my head. ā€œSorry, I canā€™t.ā€

Lucasā€™ eyes turn sad. ā€œThen youā€™re right, we have nothing else to say to each other. Sorry, I have to go now.ā€

Without another word, he crosses the street and walks away from me. And, I guess, out of my life for good. If thatā€™s what I was after, then why does it still hurt so much?

Thirty

Vivian

Three weeks later, Iā€™m still nursing my heartbreak. The cure, Iā€™ve decided, is excessive work during the day, and an endless stream of covert, late nights spent watching romantic movies and eating ice creamā€”the heavy stuff. To protect my daughter, I always wait until Tegan has gone to bed and canā€™t see me before I start my sad nightly routine. But even if Iā€™ve tried to maintain a strong faƧade in front of her, Iā€™m not convinced sheā€™s bought my act. Lately, she never goes out except for movies with friends on Saturday nights, and why else would a teenager spend so much time at home if not to keep her heartbroken mother company?

Tonight, however, I must make more noise than usual, because halfway through my regular sob-fest, Tegan pokes her head into the living room.

She takes me in, along with the ice cream bucket Iā€™m holdingā€”I opted for the saving size packageā€”and with a sigh she sits at the other end of the couch, chin bowed low.

ā€œMom, are you sad about Luke?ā€ she asks without looking up.

ā€œNo, honey, Iā€™m fine. Itā€™s just the movie.ā€

Tegan stares at the screen, where Forgetting Sarah Marshall is playing. Hardly a tear-jerker. If my excuse wasnā€™t paper thin enough already, I shift my legs on

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