No Ordinary Love (A Modern Vintage Romance #5)

4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Lucas

" T hat's just guilt, Lucas," Amara said to me over the phone, her tone professor to student and nothing like the woman who'd been mine just three weeks ago.

"It's your fair share of—"

"I already told you how much to transfer based on the assessment. Now, you've just added to my workload—I have to go to the bank and send the excess back to you," she snapped.

"Amara—"

"We. Are. Done. Please stop texting me and asking me how I'm doing like we're friends because we're not," she continued in that emotionless voice of hers that she'd been using with me since that evening when we met at The Den. "And to answer your question, I'm not doing well, Lucas. I'm heartbroken. Having you continue to text me or try to call me just adds to my heartache. Until now, I had no choice but to speak with you so we could get sorted out on the townhouse and I could get my things. But that's done, so I'm going to tell you now that after I hang up, I will be blocking your number—"

"No, Amara, don't do that." Fucking hell, she wanted me entirely out of her life. I couldn't fault her. I hurt her. I couldn't tell her I loved her; I just didn't know how I felt about her. The emotions Amara brought out were new and unique, different from anything I'd ever experienced with Kath; the only woman I had loved.

"Goodbye, Lucas," she whispered.

"Amara, I'm so sorry."

"I know, Lucas," she said so sincerely that it tore at me. "And so am I."

She hung up, and I released a long-held breath and leaned back into my office chair. The conversation had ended exactly how I feared it would—quietly, without drama, but with a finality that sliced through me. There was no anger, no bitter words; just two people acknowledging that what they had was over, like a candle softly flickering out.

My office, perched on the top floor of the Covington Building—an ornate, historic structure built by my great-grandfather in the late 1800s—felt like a tomb right now. The mahogany-paneled walls, heavy with family history, now seemed to close in around me. This space, with its sweeping views of the Charleston Harbor and the distant spires of old churches, had always been a source of pride, a testament to the legacy of Lowcountry Provisions Company. But today, it felt like a gilded cage, trapping me in memories of a life that had been built on expectations and obligations rather than love and fulfillment.

The floor-to-ceiling windows that lined one side of the room did little to lighten the heavy, oppressive atmosphere. The view outside reminded me of everything I had inherited, everything I had to live up to. Below, the city of Charleston hummed with life, unaware of the personal storm brewing in the office above; inside of me.

A soft knock on the door pulled me out of my thoughts.

Kath walked in, her heels clicking against the polished hardwood floors, her presence as familiar as it was unnerving. She was the CFO, a colleague, a leader—but also something far more complicated. She was a piece of my past I'd never fully let go of, and now, according to her, she wanted to be part of my present and future too.

"Lucas," she greeted, her voice smooth, her eyes searching mine. "You look pensive, sweetie. Everything alright?"

I sat up straighter, trying to compose myself, but I knew she could see the strain on my face. Kath had always had a way of reading me, of knowing when I was on edge. It was part of what had made our relationship so intense—and so volatile. We knew each other well enough to rile up passions.

"It's done." I pushed my phone away as if that act could erase the conversation I just had. "Amara and I…it's over."

Kath's lips curved into a small, almost sympathetic smile. She walked around the desk, stopping just short of where I sat, close enough that I could catch the familiar scent of her perfume—a fragrance that brought back a flood of memories, which in the past I could block, but not now, not when she was available to me.

"I'm sorry, Lucas," she murmured softly, her hand lightly brushing my shoulder.

"She's hurt." I hurt her .

"Isn't it better that it ends now and not later, when it would be even more painful for her?"

I wasn't sure if Amara was the only one hurting. I felt hollow inside. Since she moved all her stuff out, the townhouse felt empty, drained of life and soul. I'd thought I could live there, but now I was convinced that I had to get rid of it. Our bedroom still smelled like her. I'd find an errant hair tie or lipstick, and it would make my heart beat faster and infuse me with grief.

I missed her. I wasn't surprised by that. We'd been together for two years; we had a relationship where we spent time together. I enjoyed her company. She was witty and intelligent, down-to-earth, and so different from the kind of women I'd grown up with. But more than that, Amara was giving.

In all my past relationships, I was the giver. But with Amara, it was different. I enjoyed being taken care of by her just as much as I enjoyed taking care of her. She was genuinely happy with whatever I did and always grateful for it. She never expected anything—no presents, no rewards for simply being together. Kath, on the other hand, would drop hints about what she wanted for her birthday months in advance, or she'd outright ask for specific gifts on anniversaries and holidays. But Amara? I could bring her gas station flowers, and she'd light up like I'd given her diamonds.

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

"You poor thing," she whispered.

Something about the way Kath looked at me, the way her hand lingered just a little too long, angered me. I'd hurt a gentle and kind woman by being careless with her. I didn't deserve sympathy and let's face it, Kath wasn't being genuine because I knew she was thrilled as fuck that Amara and I were over.

She settled against my desk, her hand still on my shoulder, now stroking. "Lucas," she began, her voice dropping to a more intimate tone. "I've been thinking a lot about us lately—about what we had and…what we lost."

I looked up at her, meeting her gaze head-on. Her eyes, a piercing blue, were filled with an intensity that matched the fire we had always ignited in each other. The memories of our past—those years of passion, fighting, making up, tearing each other apart just to fall back together—came rushing back almost too quickly for me to process.

"I know things ended badly between us," she continued, "but I've always regretted leaving you for Mercer. I thought I was doing the right thing at the time, but God, Lucas, I was wrong. I've missed you, missed us ."

The words hung in the air, heavy with a past that had never quite been laid to rest. I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the emotions churning inside me. Kath was the one who got away—the woman who had been everything to me from the time we were eighteen until she walked out of my life at twenty-five. We were young, passionate, reckless. Our love was intense. We fought hard, made up harder, and left emotional scars on each other, marked one another.

My relationship with Amara had been the opposite. With Amara, everything had been soft, easy, and comfortable. Our passion wasn't a wildfire; it was a steady flame; hot and constant. We didn't fight, we didn't hurt each other. With her, I felt safe, loved, and understood.

Had I felt too comfortable? Is that why, when Kath reappeared, those old feelings of living on the edge in a relationship came rushing back? Is that why I'd been so easily swayed—why I hesitated when Amara needed me to be certain of my feelings for her?

Had I been bored with Amara, with the ease of our relationship, of it being too comfortable? I wasn't a teenager; I was thirty, a grown man, and was it folly to continue to look at relationships in the light of something I'd felt when I was a teenager?

"I don't know, Kath—" I started, but she cut me off by dropping a kiss on my mouth, a light one.

It felt wrong, and I jerked back. I felt like I was cheating on Amara. We'd just ended, and it wasn't right to already move on, not even grieve a relationship that had meant so much that I'd, for the first time in my life, asked a woman to move in with me.

"Lucas, don't you see?" she whispered, leaning in, her voice urgent, ignoring my reticence. "We were always meant to be together. I know I made mistakes; we both did. But we've grown up. We can make it work now. We're ready for each other."

I looked at her, the woman who had been my world for so long, the woman who was still everything I should want. My heart twisted in my chest. Kath was offering us a chance to rekindle what we once had, to recapture the fire that had burned so hot between us.

But there was a nagging doubt in the back of my mind, a voice that kept reminding me of how different it had been with Amara. How right it had felt to be with her. But that was over now, and Kath was here , in front of me, asking me to take her.

"We could try," I heard myself saying, the words slipping out before I could stop them. "We could see if there's…." Anything left ?

Kath's face lit up with a smile that spread across her entire expression. "There's a charity gala this weekend," she spoke quickly, as if afraid I might change my mind.

I hated such affairs, and thankfully, since Amara never wanted to put herself or me on display, I'd happily avoided most of them for two years.

"I know how you feel about them," she grinned, "But this will be a nice way for us to…get to know one another again."

I hesitated, but the truth was, I didn't have a reason to say no. Amara was gone, and maybe Kath was the one who had always been meant for me. Maybe this was our second chance. But fuck, if it didn't make me feel like an asshole, one who used Amara so I could get over Kath, and the minute my ex was available, I dropped my live-in girlfriend like she meant nothing to me.

"Alright, send the details to Diedra," I agreed, my voice firm, though there was still a part of me that wasn't sure.

"The Magnolia Ball—"

I groaned. The Magnolia Ball was held annually at the Charleston Preservation Society Mansion. It was dedicated to raising funds for The Lowcountry Heritage Foundation, a local non-profit focused on preserving and restoring Charleston's historic buildings and landmarks as well as supporting educational programs for underprivileged youth. LPC donated generously since my grandmother was on the board of the foundation and LPC.

"It'll be fun. I promise." She beamed at me, a smile I hadn't seen directed toward me in years and leaned in to press a kiss to my cheek.

"I'm sure." I could never say no to Kath, could I? It looked like, even after all these years, that hadn't changed.

Did I ever turn Amara down when she asked me to go somewhere? Yes, I did, and she also told me when she couldn't make some event or party or just didn't feel like going. I never took offense, and she never pressured me, either. Was that because we didn't care enough for each other? Or was it simply that we were in a relationship where there wasn't a lot of forcing one to do something they didn't like to do?

"You won't regret it, Lucas," she murmured, her breath warm against my skin.

As she left my office, the door clicking shut behind her, I leaned back in my chair again, staring out at the Charleston skyline. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the city, and for a moment, I let myself believe that I was doing the right thing.

But deep down, in a place I didn't want to acknowledge, I knew that I was walking into troubled waters.

I couldn't shake the feeling that I was making a deal with the devil, one that could cost me more than I had already lost. Because I had lost Amara, I lost that beautiful relationship that made me smile. I wouldn't be going home to her anymore. She wouldn't be waiting, listening to a seminar while she cooked with a glass of wine in hand. She wouldn't wrap herself around me at night after we made love; after she gave me in bed more than I gave her, always. She wouldn't whisper how much she loved me when I slid inside her, feeling that everything in my world was right.

I hung my head in shame because I knew I had let Amara down. She'd been honest, always. Even now, she told me that I hurt her and she still felt pain. She didn't pretend she was fine. She didn't lie. She didn't obfuscate. She spoke her truth.

I wish I had told her it wasn't just guilt I felt—I was hurting too, and I missed her. But it seemed so small and trivial compared to her anguish, the one I could hear in her voice and see on her face. And what right did I have to share that with Amara? I had no business asking her to see my bruises, self-inflicted ones because when she asked me if I loved her, I hadn't been able to open my heart—instead, I'd fallen back on being a gentleman, saying I didn't want to hurt her; but ultimately did exactly that with a viciousness that she'd never forgive and I'd never be able to make up for.

It's a good thing then, Lucas because that relationship is over. You're moving on with Kath now.

That would be all good and easy if it wasn't Amara I thought about before I fell asleep, wanting her and woke up wondering how she was.