Craving You
L.L. shook her head, grinning. “Well, I wouldn’t exactly complain about that.”
They locked up and then reconvened at The Plaza Hotel to overindulge. Afterward, L.L. bypassed returning to her office and instead took the subway home. She kept all of her work in a cloud environment, so she fired up her laptop, settled in front of a fire in the living room and wrapped up the design of one toy and started building specs for another.
Friday morning and into the afternoon flew by for L.L. Shocking. She’d anticipated it crawling at a painful pace while she looked forward to seeing Tague again. It mattered not that the dinner was already hailed as a pressure cooker. She had no delusions about what an evening of intense lawyers—and Tague’s parents—would be like.
What she latched onto was something he’d told her Wednesday morning on their way to her office—that they weren’t to give a fuck.
She knew him well enough, she surmised, to know he’d hold true to his word. Whatever complications, disapproval and tension would come from his family, L.L. swore to herself she wouldn’t let it get to her, wouldn’t let it affect the way she felt about Tague.
Parents were tricky entities with which to deal, regardless of circumstances. She’d learned tha
t early on. They could love you or hate you, and more often than not, it would have nothing to do with you personally.
Her own father was a great example. As much as L.L. had “missed” out on having a dad—really just pining for that paternal presence that had not existed when she’d been growing up—she had to admit and accept that the man who’d helped to conceive her had walked out of her life before she’d even been born. Before they’d met. Before he’d gotten to know her.
He’d left when she was merely a concept of a child—not one he’d seen in reality. That helped to alleviate some of the rejection. Though it hadn’t been easy finding that measure of peace.
Her mother, however, had always contended that being abandoned was no fault of L.L.’s. How could it be? her mother would muse in her good-natured tone, a resilient woman who let nothing keep her down for long. Not even single parenthood and a broken heart.
Charlene Branson had said, on many occasions, “People make choices based on their current situations, their current state of mind. Sometimes, they can’t see past today to understand what tomorrow—and twenty years from now—might look like. And if what’s happening right this very second doesn’t feel convenient or comfortable for them, they can walk away and say they did what was necessary for them. That’s okay, sweets.” She’d pat L.L.’s hand at this point. “They can feel as though they’ve freed themselves from something. But deep down, I suspect that sometimes they look back and wonder what they left behind.”
Her mother was definitely of the forgive and move on variety.
There were lots of days when L.L. wished she’d inherited that trait. It would have helped her to cut loose of Corey and not ever, ever think about what he’d done to her six years ago.
Even now, just thinking of him, made fury rise within her. She forced herself to tamp it down.
And considered that if anyone could help her move past the misery, it just might be Tague.
Or he could devastate her further.
The pendulum had the potential to swing either way.
Unfortunately.
A text from him drew her from her internal ruminations and turmoil. Merely seeing his name on the screen soothed her.
On my way.
A simple missive, but it was nice to know he was sitting in a car with her on his mind as he approached.
L.L. typed, Sadly, I’ve been ready for half an hour. Guess I got a little excited…
Over seeing me? he replied.
Her sassy side kicked in. No. I’m actually dying to be in a roomful of attorneys heatedly debating which hue of blue best describes the Empire Room.
Smartass.
She smiled, despite him not being able to see it. How far away are you?
About ten minutes.
Her stomach flipped. I need to touch-up my lip gloss.
See you soon.
19