Page 101 of Love Unspoken

AMARA

I didn't want to be here.

The Den, with its dim lighting and cozy atmosphere, had always been a place that felt like ours—Lucas's and mine. Now, it was going to be where we would officially end, even if the emotional break had happened two days ago.

When Lucas suggested we meet on Monday evening after work, a part of me wanted to tell him to go fuck himself. It had taken him two days to call me after I told him I was moving out. I knew he was going to be busy with Rena's birthday, but the fact that I was so low on his priority list struck me anew. It hurt more than it had before because now I knew that he didn't love me.

So, even though I knew it'd hurt a lot to see Lucas again, I also knew that I needed to be practical. I needed to be civil. I ignored that little part of me that was also thrilled to see the object of my love and desire.

Lucas and I had shared a lot, and I wasn't going to let it unravel into ugliness. He'd asked to meet, and I knew we had to talk—not about us—there wasn't an us anymore—but about the practicalities—the townhouse, my investment, the life we'd planned that now felt like a distant, painful dream.

I spotted him immediately, sitting in the back corner where we always sat, a drink already in hand. He looked the same—perfectly put-together, every bit the powerful, confident man I'd fallen for. Only now, all I could see was the man who'd broken my heart with a single conversation.

"I love Kath. I'll always love her."

I took a deep breath and walked over, keeping my expression as neutral as possible. He glanced up as I approached.

"Amara." He stood as I reached the table. He was such a Southern Gentleman, I thought scornfully.

"Lucas." I slid into the seat across from him.

I was relieved he didn't pretend everything was fine between us or try to hug me or give me a kiss like he used to.

But then I suspected that he was relieved that I'd ended it. Was he with Kath this past weekend? Were they already together? Did he have sex with her?

I cleared my throat as a way to dissipate the thoughts that would lead me to break down and cry. Everything inside me hurt. Today, at work, I felt like I had the flu, a sickness that engulfed me. I'd spent the weekend in Basil's guestroom crying as he held me when I allowed it. Most of the time, I was alone, watching Lucas and my time together in my mind to see if there were hints of how he felt. I was sad to admit to myself that there were, and I ignored them, willfully looking away because I didn't like what I was seeing.

"How are you?" he asked softly.

I shrugged. Thankfully, the server came then to take our orders. I went for their Pinot Noir by the glass, which I liked, and Lucas shook his head, looking at his drink, a beer.

We sat for a moment in awkward silence, and I could feel all that was unsaid pressing down on me. The last time we'd been here, we were laughing, planning a future. Now, it was like we were strangers.

The server came back with my drink, and the impossible gulf between us got more profound as we took sips.

Unable to stand it any longer, I got to the point. "I think it's best if we handle this quickly. I've been looking at options for selling the townhouse, but if you want to keep it, you can buy me out. We can get an appraiser⁠—"

"Amara, wait." He interrupted me, his brow furrowing as he leaned forward. "Can we not rush into this?"

I stared at him, my heart tightening painfully. Was he really going to do this? Now, after everything, was he going to pretend there was anything left to salvage?

"What is there to wait for, Lucas?" My voice was calm, but the hurt was simmering beneath the surface, threatening to spill out of me. "You made it clear where you stand. I'm just trying to make this as straightforward as possible."

"I don't even know what you think you heard, Amara, except for what Jerome told me. Help me out here."

I wanted to throw the wine in his face. How dare he pretend that he hadn't said what he had? That what I heard was innocuous, and I'd misconstrued his words?

"I heard you tell your mother that you're still in love with Kath. You don't know how you feel about me. That you find me comfortable but don't feel any passion. You used the term all-consuming when you talked about Kath."

I stopped speaking because the words made me want to throw up the little I'd managed to eat that day and the few sips of the wine I had just drunk. He had the courtesy to look remorseful. Not guilty, I noticed, but he felt bad that I was feeling bad. Well, he could take his pity and shove it where the sun didn't shine.

"You said to Patsy how you didn't want to hurt me, though you agreed with her that I didn't fit into your world—that I was not a suitable Mrs. Covington."

It was like all the acid inside me was spewing out, through his words.

"Amara, baby," he spoke to me as one would to a skittish animal, "Mama was being…difficult, and I was⁠—"

"Give me the truth, Lucas. I deserve that, don't you think?"