We drank the bottle of rosé and left just after sunset. It was sublime, easily the best first date of my life. He couldn’t stop touching me, and I couldn’t stop letting him. By the time we were standing on my porch to bid each other goodnight, I still had no idea if the man had taken a fancy to wine, but I was thoroughly seduced. As he crowded me at my door with relentless lips, I forced myself back. The idea of his profession, of what he was capable of and that any part of our date was contrived gnawed at me as I stood a willing victim to his charms. Only time would tell.
I’d read somewhere that Leo DiCaprio looked through a Victoria’s Secret catalog to pick out his next conquest and the idea disgusted me. Though that story may be total bullshit, if any man in Hollywood had the power to do something so objectifying as point to the woman he wanted, and have his invitation accepted, it was Lucas Walker. He could have practically any woman he wanted, and I wanted that woman to be me. And though before our date, I thought I had healthy confidence, we didn’t make much sense. That idea alone had me closing my door with a sigh and insecurity rearing its ugly head in a way I wasn’t comfortable with. I could’ve invited him in, fucked him and made him a memory. I could have lured him into my bed with a decision that for one night, in the city of stars, I shared my body with one of the brightest. But I didn’t. Instead, I let myself hope to fall without any sort of net. Where that drop of insecurity could eventually turn into a sea of doubt that I could drown in. I rose to the challenge of falling for Lucas Walker praying he’d prove to be worth it.
Besides, I wasn’t the only one smitten. After that night, there was no way Lucas would ever let me consider him a memory. Ever. I just didn’t know it yet.
Mila
PRESENT
Spotting a comfortable lounger on the brick deck of the inn, I settle in as morning light begins to blanket the vast canvas in front of me. It’s then that some semblance of peace wafts over me. Cocooned in the dream-like setting, I bat away the guilt of unplugging. I’d turned off my phone when I’d arrived here, not out of spite, but because of temptation. For so long I’ve counted on my marriage as my grounding, my foundation. It’s what’s expected when you accept the invitation to share your life with someone. But it’s a single question that gnaws at me now. Without Lucas, without the life we built together, who would I be?
I swore myself independent when we met. I’d never looked for my happiness in someone else. My dreams were my mission to accomplish. Somehow, in the years Lucas and I have shared together, our relationship, and his career had become a crutch for me, and that was what I feared most when we got together. With faith, I made the decision to step away and travel with Lucas, to be his partner, and that had drastically backfired. Even though I had already taken measures to kick-start my career back into motion, the thought of going at life again without the man who had molded and shaped me for the last six years to rely on him, to trust him, has me paralyzed. He’d worked so hard to earn that trust, asked for that reliance, and I gave it to him wholeheartedly.
Where are we supposed to draw the line? How do you trust, rely on, love, and build all the while keeping your sense of self? These are answers I need to figure out before I can face him. Lucas was always resilient when it came to us and any obstacle that revealed itself along the way. Our chemistry was addicting, his refusal to let it be only that was what drew me in further. Nothing about our courting was typical, and Lucas did most of the grunt work. He was invested in us from the beginning and proved as much after our first date when I got my first glimpse of real Hollywood.
He hadn’t called or texted in the days following our ‘non’ date, and I’d been trying my best not to obsess over it. I’d been in two long-term relationships