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DECEMBER 2012
“Jesus, why do I still have to go to these things?”
I fix my tie as I stand in front of the mirror at my parents’ house. In an hour, I’ll be at the Mefford’s annual Christmas party, the last place I want to be. I just finished finals. I need sleep.
Worse, the damn ring Mrs. Mefford gave me at last night’s family dinner sits in my pocket like some alien metal zapping my energy.
Christy Mefford, that manipulative witch.
After our last encounter, she hadn’t gotten what she wanted. So she appealed to a higher power: her mother. And apparently, Mrs. Mefford has teamed up with my father. They’re pressuring me to propose to Christy while I’m home for break.
Such bullshit.
My father’s political aspirations haven’t panned out the way he wanted. And he holds me responsible. What’s new? Joe Donovan blames me for everything. After he lost the mayoral race by only two percent, he threatened to withhold payment for my final semester in school. Thankfully, my mother said otherwise, and Dad backed down.
But I got the entire lecture and his true disappointment in one act. I’m graduating in the spring. I haven’t taken the LSAT. I have no plan. What am I going to do with my sorry life?
And cue the chorus.
None of it is true. After talking with Colton, now assigned to the New Orleans Bureau office, I have a strong path forward. If I can pull some strings, I plan on applying to the FBI academy as well. I haven’t told my father yet, but with the Donovan name, I’m hoping I can wiggle my way in somehow. Fortunately, there isn’t a felony attached to my record.
Sure, I have ulterior motives. I’ve seen too many victimized kids running the streets, getting into trouble, and turning to a life of crime. I want to help. The research for my thesis has proved enlightening. A substantial percentage of girls who are bullied often end up victimized by or led into lives of sexual crimes. Human trafficking is a real problem, especially in Detroit. If I can end the crimes where they start, maybe the guilt I harbor daily will subside. Finally, I can be the hero I’m supposed to be. Especially for her.
Penny.
My breath hitches. I can’t stop thinking about her. After years of searching, I finally found her. She’s in the Upper Peninsula. After I confronted Colt about lying to me, he told me she’s doing well. She’s in her third year at Northern Michigan University and loves living in the U.P.
She plans on being a clinical psychologist. That tidbit I garnered from my mother. Turns out Penny had relied on my mother emotionally when Miranda wasn’t available. Somewhere along the way, Mom recognized my true feelings for Penny. That’s quite a feat since I can’t seem to get a handle on them myself.
Still, Mom warns me to take this slow. Penny is still healing. She’s different now.
I look in the mirror. Who isn’t? I haven’t changed much in looks, but the Golden Boy that everyone once knew is gone. Not that I know exactly who I am at the moment. I need to find myself, who I want to be. One day I’ll be a man that Penny Ramsay can be proud of.
Maybe one day, she won’t hate me.
“Luke? Are you ready?” Mom appears at my bedroom door with a somber smile.
Taking the ring from my pocket, I set it upon my dresser. I slip on my Oxfords and tie the laces. “Let’s get this over with.”
Eyeing the jewelry box warily, she places a hand on my arm. “Don’t give in to your father’s demands. That isn’t what you want, is it?”
I press my lips together. “Do I have a choice?”
She gives me a stern look. “Always. He isn’t thinking straight. He took his loss hard. But he doesn’t want you to be unhappy.” She cocks her head. “Besides, down the road when things don’t work out with Christy—and trust me, they won’t—you’ll be miserable. She’ll resent you. The break-up will be worse than the marriage.”
I arch an eyebrow. “You’re speaking from experience?”
“My first husband.” She sighs. “I wasn’t given much of a choice, either. I was expected to be the perfect daughter and marry within my social class.” She shakes her head. “What a bunch of bullshit.”
Surprise jumps through me. Caroline Donovan hardly curses. “Wow, that bad?”
Smoothing her gold and black cocktail dress, she chuckles. “Why do you think I dread these things? Command performances, I call them. And I loathe every minute of it. I married young. Too young. We were divorced within three years. I rebelled, earned my master’s degree, made my own way in the world, and then met your dad.”
I grunt. “Was he a family compromise too? Because of his name?”
She laughs. “Not at all. I met Joe when he was at his most vulnerable... attempting to raise two young sons, grieving for his wife, and overcoming a stigma of failure himself.” She pats my arm. “You aren’t the only one who likes to save people. Give your dad time. He’ll understand one day. But don’t bow down to his flights of fancy. It isn’t worth it.”
Taking me in her arms, she hugs me tightly. Like a mother... the only one I’ve ever had. Tears cloud my vision as I return her embrace. “Thank you. For everything.”
Releasing me, she wipes her damp cheeks and smiles. “I may not have carried you, but you will always be my son, Lucas.”
*****
SILENCE ENGULFS THE car as I ride with my parents to the country club. What is there to say? In his dress blues, my father glares at me in the rear-view mirror like I’m ten years old, and not twenty-three. There is no pleasing him. If I give in to his demands, will it even be enough?
Entering the lobby, lavishly decorated in gold and green, I wrinkle my nose. Dr. Mefford has become quite the businessman. He hardly performs surgeries anymore. He’s centered his life around this pretentious country club, and that’s all I need to know about why I shouldn’t marry his daughter.
The porters check our coats, and we proceed to the ballroom. Guests dressed to the nines mill around the tables, piled high with seafood and prime rib, fancy salads, and rich desserts. Plates of half-eaten appetizers litter a nearby trash can.
Disgust roils in my stomach. The kids I’ve spent time with at the YMCA hardly have food on their tables. These people treat it like it’s expendable. It’s repulsive on all levels.
“Luke!”
Christy approaches us, looking as beautiful as ever. She’s obviously been to the spa. Her skin and makeup are flawless. Lengthy eyelashes frame her hazel irises. Her chestnut hair—that seems to be getting lighter every time I see her—shines as curls drape around her shoulders. Tiny diamond studs sparkle from the strands intermittently. Her sleeveless red, floor-length gown hugs her petite form, although the four-inch stilettos increase her height. She is the picture-perfect debutante, and the people surrounding us are well-aware of her presence. That’s just how she likes it.
But physical beauty has never been Chris’ issue. It’s her personality that’s ugly.
She snuggles against me, and I harden my heart. Her touch doesn’t feel right. Despite our arrangement over the last six months, I still haven’t slept with her. I can’t do it. I can hardly kiss her. The only time she gets any kind of affection from me are these stupid events because I have to show my father I’m trying.
As Christy chats with my mother amicably, I go through the motions and kiss her cheek, allowing her to claim me with her nails dug into my coat sleeve possessively.
A hot, twenty-something hostess saunters by with champagne. She gives me a seductive smile. I subtly return the gesture. It’s not like I can’t find other women to date. I receive plenty of attention from the opposite sex. I’ve never acted on my hormones because I’m not that kind of guy. Although, it might have more to do with the fact that most women never fit my ideal of perfection.
Golden curls, a bright smile, jade-colored eyes, smart as a whip...
Christy grips my arm tighter. Her thin lips pull across her teeth as she curses under her breath. “What a slut! Could she be any more obvious?”
Jesus, not again. Holding her arm, I lead her to a more private place. “Chris, knock it off. This isn’t some sorority party.”
“That bitch was eyeing you.” Her gaze narrows. “And you were flirting back.”
I roll my eyes. “So what? You flirt with guys all the time, and I don’t go ballistic.”
She arches her perfectly manicured brow and sneers. “I know. For some reason, it doesn’t seem to bother you at all.”
I snort. “Is that what you want?”
Stamping her foot, she whines, “Of course! I thought if you saw what other men do, you’d see why we fell in love in the first place. How can we do that if you’re looking at other women? Or could care less that other guys look at me?”
Love?
Goosebumps prickle across the back of my neck as my psyche screams hell no. I don’t love this girl. She’s changed. And not for the better. Her delusions are a little more than scary.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Chris...”
She wipes her eyes. “This is supposed to be our big night!”
A jolt of fear rips across my lungs. Fuck, what’s that supposed to mean?
“Happy Holidays everyone!” The band dies down as Dr. Mefford taps the top of the microphone. The crowd raises their glasses and returns his sentiment.
Christy glares at me. “This is it. Don’t screw this up. I don’t care what you say, we both want this.”
Dread dances down my spine. As Christy joins her mother and brother at the front of the room, she waves to the crowd like they’re hosting this party for her.
Oh, fuck no!
I find my parents, standing off to the side of the stage. I grab my father’s arm. “What the hell is going on?”
Holding his head high, Dad hands me the jewelry box with Christy’s grandmother’s ring. “Just do what’s expected of you for once and we won’t have a problem.”
My heart stutters. “And that is?”
“We have many esteemed guests here this evening, including my brother-in-law, Jonathan Sparks and his lovely wife.” The crowd claps cordially. “And of course, our honorable police captain, Joe Donovan and his family. Joe?”
My father clears his throat and shrugs off Mom’s attempt to stop him. He takes the microphone from Dr. Mefford, and his voice booms across the cavernous ballroom. “Happy holidays, Robert. I can’t thank you and your beautiful wife enough for everything you’ve done for us, including your unfailing support during my campaign. Next election, we’ll beat ‘em!”
The crowd cheers once more. He quiets them with a wave of his hands. “As many of you know, my oldest son, James Donovan, is the new District Attorney in St. Clair County. He and his beautiful wife couldn’t be here tonight, but he sends his well wishes. And my youngest son, Lucas... can you come up here? You had an announcement I think?”
Mom grips my arm. Shaking her head, she tells me everything I need to know. My father set me up. He wants a very public proposal. Tonight.
Straightening my tie, I reluctantly join him at the podium. Standing next to him with a grim smile, I look out at the expectant crowd. Many faces I recognize, other people I’m sure to know if I do what my father and the Meffords want.
I glance at Christy’s mother. Her hands are clasped at her chest as tears of what I assume are joy gather in her eyes. Servers pass out flutes of champagne. She must have planned this with my father.
Resentment swirls through me like an angry storm. My mother is right. This is bullshit. Why am I still keeping up with this charade? Is this how life will be? Always told what to do because it’s expected of me?
I scan the crowd. My mother stands by with her lips set in a grim line. She shakes her head. I press my lips together tightly. I have no choice. There’s only one thing I can do.
Reluctantly accepting the microphone from my dad, I find my courage. I nod at the eager crowd. “Um, happy holidays, everyone. I’d like to thank Dr. and Mrs. Mefford for throwing such a lovely party.” Cordial clapping. I turn to my father. His chin is raised in triumph. Gaining courage, I smile. “My father’s right. I have some wonderful news.” Christy’s eyes sparkle as I glance at her. She’s hopeful... expectant.
Showtime.
Stepping away from my father, I clear my throat. “As many of you know, we lost a good cop ten years ago. Sergeant Robert Ramsay. One of our own.” Gentle sounds of remorse filter through the crowd. “Yes, we should honor him this evening for his selfless duty.” Dr. Mefford tries to take the microphone from me, but I rip it away. “His son, Colton is my best friend. And I’m sure Sergeant Ramsay is looking down upon his son with immense pride since Colt just graduated from Quantico and is now working with the FBI.”
Everyone seems pleased to hear this news. As they quiet, I stare at my father. “After I graduate in May, I’ve decided to seek the same path. I’ve applied to the FBI academy as well.” Ignoring my father’s death stare, I clap him on the shoulder and squeeze. Hard. “I owe this decision to my father as well. Thanks, Dad. I hope I can make you as proud as I’m sure Sergeant Ramsay would have been of Colt.”
Everyone raises their glasses and gives me a strong congratulations and good wishes. Turning to Dr. Mefford, I shove the microphone into his hand. The man glares at me. Holding my head high, I smile smugly and glare at him what I’ve wanted to scream all along.
Fuck every one of you.
Exiting the stage, I head for my soon-to-be-ex—a nightmare that has plagued me for too long. As the band begins to play, the jovial crowd charges the ballroom floor. Grabbing Christy by the arm, I propel her away from her parents and into the hall.
Tears gather at her eyelashes as she bites out, “I can’t believe you did that to me!”
Ditto.
Pressing her grandmother’s jewelry box in her hand, I whisper, “Goodbye, Chris.”
As I walk away from her and back to my mother, I avoid eye contact with the Meffords and my father. I kiss my mother’s cheek.
She pats my arm. “I’m proud of you, son.” She hands me her car keys. “We’ll see you at home.”
“You sure? What about you guys?”
She glares at my father. “Don’t worry about us. Joseph Donovan and I have some things to discuss.”
I grin. That’s all the support I need. Nobody will force me to do anything I don’t want to do ever again.