I opened my mouth to question him further but thought the better of it, since he seemed like he wanted to tell his story in his own way.
“I don’t expect you to understand based on just the tiny fraction you now know. What you saw tonight was the glittering outside, the glamorous wealth and ease in which they live. But that life comes with certain… expectations.” He shook his head, still looking out the window. “I tried. My whole damn life I tried to fit myself into that framework, to do what they expected—go to the right school, study the right subjects, marry the right girl. Everything.” His voice was strangled now, as if it hurt him to let that all out. He was silent for a long moment and we watched the lights of the city streak by in the window.
Suddenly the car slowed as we exited the freeway and headed along surface streets toward home. It seemed to jostle him awake from wherever he’d drifted off to.
He ran a hand through his hair and gave a self-conscious laugh. “Sorry to ramble on like that. It was a lot to dump on you in a night where you’ve already had a lot dumped on you.”
I echoed his shrug. “Well, I did ask.”
He threw me a quick glance, then rested his head against the seat to stare up at the darkened roof of the car. “I’ve really never talked about all this out loud before. Haven’t had anyone to discuss it in a long time or, ever, really. Or maybe I’ve just had too much to drink.”
Suddenly we were slowing and pulling up to the curb of Lucas’s house. Before Armando could pop out to get the door for Lucas, he was gone and halfway across the lawn. He called out his thanks to the driver who graciously opened my door for me.
The other driver parked Lucas’s car beside mine in the driveway and I was dealing with getting the car keys back and giving him a tip. To which he blanched and flat out refused to even touch the money, waving it away as if it were a lump of dog poo—or Canadian dollars. Chalk up yet another of my middle class faux pas for the evening.
Jeez.
By the time I was able to catch up with Lucas inside, he was already standing at the little wine cart in his living room. He’d thrown off his jacket and tie and tossed them on the sofa. Max had jumped up from his bed to greet his human, nuzzling Lucas’s free hand and wagging his tail furiously. Lucas patted the dog on the head absently, fixated on the selection in front of him.
The cart had various bottles of liquor on it but no wine, ironically. He apparently used it as a small wet bar. It was a lovely cart, fancy and mirrored. Like maybe it had been a wedding gift. I suddenly imagined Lucas and Claire going through all their things and deciding how to split them. How much of this place had she helped furnish, if at all?
He had poured himself another drink and was halfway through it, knocking it back quickly. Shit. He was obviously still in pain and I had no idea how to handle it. Should I let him sit out here to drink and retreat to my room? Or should I be the good little wife and make sure he was okay?
He had just finished his first glass and uncapped the bottle to pour another. Max sniffed at the air but sidled out of the way while I moved up beside Lucas. As much as I would have loved to get out of the dress and wash the makeup off, I just couldn’t leave him like this.
But once I stood beside him, he slipped away from me, beating a very determined path to the piano, drink in hand. Max and I both gazed after him, then the dog turned around and slipped through the kitchen and out the dog door into the yard.
After another deep gulp of the drink, Lucas settled on the piano bench. I had to admit I’d been wanting to listen—and more so watch—him play again ever since the first night he’d revealed his hidden talent to me.
And I had to admire, too, how he held his liquor. I mean, he was obviously drunk but there was no wobble in his walk. He