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  Lucinda frowned at the resignation in Samantha’s voice. It was as if all her insecurities had been cemented into truth over the course of one bad breakup. People did terrible things to one another, Lucinda knew that firsthand. But her heart hurt for Samantha. She cupped her cheek softly.

  “You are not a failure. What you do is brave and heartwarming and wonderful. You make people’s dreams come true—dreams they may not even know they have. You have an eye for detail that is uncanny. You read people with a fluency that is unbelievable. You see hope in dark places and defend true love. You’re saving happy endings and giving them out because you believe in love, even if it’s a hard road. You will not die alone, and you’ll have fifty cats if you damn well please because you can, and no one has the right to tell you otherwise.”

  She brushed away the silent tears escaping Samantha’s eyes. “You are not at fault for the actions of others. You are not anyone’s plaything or trophy. You have every right to the same happiness you find for others, and you should not settle for less.” She rubbed her thumb lightly over Samantha’s cheek before continuing so quietly it was almost a whisper.

  “You are smart and funny and beautiful and special and you deserve to be reminded of that every day.”

  Samantha’s eyes welled with tears. “Thank you.”

  The words were heavy with sincerity and meaning. Lucinda got the impression that she was thanking her for more than her words.

  “Thank you,” she repeated and pressed a chaste kiss to Lucinda’s hovering lips. Samantha shuddered and sobbed softly, as if unable to stifle the sudden rush of feelings.

  Lucinda felt them too. It hurt to feel the sobs rake through Samantha and reverberate against her own chest. She pulled Samantha into her lap, adjusting her clothing and rubbing her hands along her back as she slowly rocked Samantha back and forth, letting her know she was not alone. She pressed kiss after kiss to her tear-soaked cheeks, willing the hurt away.

  “Sh, baby girl, come here,” she cooed as she cradled Samantha against her chest. She pressed a firm kiss to the top of her head as she tossed the blanket draped over the back of the couch over them, tucking them in. Samantha’s sobbing slowed over the next few minutes, her hands balled into fists around Lucinda’s shirt, pressing against her chest between them. She continued to sniffle and shudder periodically as Lucinda rubbed up and down her back under the warm blanket, soothing her as best she could.

  “It’s all right. Everything is going to be fine.” She breathed out as she hugged Samantha close. She wasn’t sure who she was saying that to, Samantha or herself.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “I’m surprised you answered, Sam. I thought for sure you would bounce me to voice mail.” Andrew’s voice echoed a little over his Bluetooth.

  “I will always answer for you, darling,” Samantha replied, “anytime, anyplace.”

  “Eww, did you answer during sex? Please tell me no,” he scoffed, the sound of his blinker clicking in the background.

  “What? No, Lucinda’s making dinner. I was just moving away from the sink.”

  “Are you at home or…?”

  “We’re at her place.”

  “Still?”

  “Yes, Andrew, still.” Lucinda laughed behind her.

  “Wow, Sam,” he teased, “are you going to be able to walk tomorrow?”

  “You’re an ass,” she bit back with a laugh. “How was work today?”

  “Oh, fine, the usual. We have a few meetings tomorrow. Are you planning on coming in?”

  “I don’t see why not. What time is the first one?”

  “I think nine fifteen. Hey—your mother called the office, just a warning.”

  “I know. She already got to me. But I appreciate you telling me.”

  “Everything okay? You wanna talk about it?”

  “I’m good, actually. It went as usual, name calling, rudeness, et cetera. She sort of threatened to visit sometime soon, date still pending approval. Make sure we save our out-of-state meetings in case that happens, okay?”

  “You got it, babe. Listen, I need to get inside before my trainer breaks my ass for being late. Not that I would really mind, I guess—he’s got such nice abs.”

  “Have fun at the gym, thanks for calling, see you tomorrow.” As Samantha ended the call she admired the shapely form in front of her, moving between the stove and the counter.

  Lucinda shut off the burner and deposited the contents of the pan into the dishes in front of her, carefully mixing the brown rice with the stir-fry and setting aside the remainder onto the unused burner. She turned around to catch Samantha’s gaze lingering on her body. “Hey.” She smiled.

  “Hi.”

  “Ready to eat?” Lucinda quirked an eyebrow, teasing a bit.

  “Um, yeah.”

  Lucinda placed the dishes on the table and retrieved the wine from the night before, pouring two fresh glasses and lighting the candle in front of them. Samantha smiled at Lucinda’s attention to detail, reaching her hand out to lightly touch Lucinda’s knuckles affectionately. The contact was rewarded with an open palm and interlaced fingers. Lucinda raised her glass. “Thank you for being my dinner guest, and having a wonderful day with me.”

  Samantha touched her glass to Lucinda’s and smiled, sipping the wine and squeezing the hand in her own. “Anytime.” She winked.

  Lucinda scrunched her nose and giggled, poking at the contents of her plate before asking, “How’s Andrew?”

  “He’s good.” Samantha raised a forkful to her mouth and chewed slowly. “Oh my God, this is delicious.” She closed her eyes and let the multiple flavors and textures cross over her palette. “Where did you learn to cook like this?”

  Lucinda laughed. “You must be easily impressed. It’s really no big deal, just vegetables, rice, and shrimp. The whole thing took fifteen minutes.”

  Samantha bit into a shrimp and mumbled, “Yeah, but it’s so good.”

  “Thanks. I like cooking.”

  “Do you always cook? Or do you take out more?” Samantha envisioned Lucinda curled up on her couch, sifting through takeout menus in her bra and panties.

  “I cook pretty often. I find it soothing. There’s something rewarding about making a meal from scratch.”

  “Have you always been that way?”

  Lucinda considered this for a moment. “I used to cook when Connie and I were younger—just small meals and snacks here and there. I didn’t really embrace food and its many flavors until college when I had to be more aware of the fuel I consumed while dancing competitively. Eventually, I progressed to more intricate meals. My ex, Grace, was a culinary wiz. Her father was a restaurant owner in the city, so I learned a little along the way. My greatest food exposure came from my years with Grace—I suppose that was one good thing I got from that train wreck.” She shrugged and sipped her wine.

  Samantha got the feeling she was walking on uncomfortable ground as she watched Lucinda start to retreat into herself a bit. Yet she felt compelled to know more about her. She wanted to feel like they were sharing equally, even if it was messy or uncomfortable. “At the wedding, when you said you stayed with Connie when you were younger, what did you mean?”

  Lucinda swallowed her bite and looked up. She pursed her lips and sighed before answering. “I was placed there as a foster child when I was eleven, until I was seventeen.” She scratched her nose and reached for her wineglass, averting her eyes from Samantha.

  Samantha’s brow furrowed as she took in this information. Eleven was young. As much as she couldn’t stand her family, she couldn’t imagine not having one either. When she didn’t say anything right away, Lucinda looked up at her, almost nervous.

  “I never knew my father. My mother had a drug problem. I had been in the system for a while before I met the O’Malleys.”

  Samantha frowned, her thumb gently rubbing over Lucinda’s knuckles. “How long is a while?” she whispered.

  “Since I was four.”

  Samantha had t
o fight back a gasp. She couldn’t help but think of all the little things in her own past that served as milestones from her youth: her first princess-themed birthday party, the first time she rode a bike, presents and cakes, security. She had always had security. That was something she had taken for granted.

  “Babe, I’m so sorry.” She frowned deeper as she felt guilt wash over her; she had been very well-off as a child and into adulthood. Life had been easy for her, comparatively.

  Lucinda just shrugged, eyes on her food again. “It’s not your fault. It’s just how it was.” She was quiet for a minute before adding softly, “Before the O’Malleys, I had been in five homes. Connie was my first real family. Her mother was a saint—she nearly worked herself to death to make sure I wasn’t shuttled back into the system. She probably saved my life.”

  Samantha considered what she knew of Constance O’Malley Lundstein: she had two older brothers, her mother died of cancer when she was young, and her father was an alcoholic with a mean streak. Somewhere along the line she had been removed from the home to live with an aunt. Samantha worried about Lucinda in that moment. Where had she gone? Who took her in? She pushed her now empty plate away and slid her chair closer, Lucinda eyeing her warily.

  “Constance is a great girl. You must have done something right with her, she adores you.” She let a small smile cross her face as she pulled their conjoined hands to her lap.

  Lucinda made no attempt to pull her hand away, but the warmth of their usual interactions was missing. She knew she was visibly uncomfortable with this topic. After all this time she still felt a little shameful admitting she had no one to claim her. She wanted to try, but the truth was the only person she had ever talked with about this was Dominic. Even Grace had gotten a quick summary version for the sake of discussing their pasts, but she never shared how truly awful it had been. How many times she had been returned. How hard it was to trust anyone. In the beginning of her time at the O’Malleys, Lucinda had struggled to connect with Connie, afraid she would get attached only to be discarded again. It got harder and harder to get placed as she got older and even harder to get over the rejection. She’d had a lifetime of good-byes.

  She answered Samantha with a sad smile. “Connie is great because she had a great mother and she’s a smart girl. I’m just glad to have met her and kept her in my life.”

  Samantha’s grip on her hand tightened. “You’ve never told me about dancing. What happened?”

  Lucinda felt like the wind got knocked out of her. She had successfully deflected any and all questions about her dancing and her dance partner. She knew she was on borrowed time when Samantha saw those photos on her bedroom mirror. She couldn’t keep avoiding this topic.

  “Connie’s mother put me in a dance class one afternoon to help me open up a bit and find other kids my age. It was one of those selfless things she did so frequently. When I said Catherine O’Malley saved my life, I meant it—had she not supported me and given me a chance, I never would have known what a family could be and I never would have met Dominic.” She sipped her glass. “Dominic was in that first class with me. We hit it off in a competitive kind of way, but eventually we became inseparable. He was a very gifted dancer, but he came from a world apart from me. He had a loving family with plenty of wealth. They were so generous, still are. When they saw how well we danced together, they paid for every class for me moving forward. They covered every competition entrance fee and equipment cost, all of it. And Dominic became the brother I never had.”

  She sighed and leaned back. “I moved in with his family when my fostering ended with the O’Malleys. I danced day and night, trying to forget all the bad things that had happened to me. Dominic always told me that what I lacked in training, I made up for in natural talent, but it took a lot of work to polish and sculpt my dancing to match the caliber of his. He was always so patient though—he never doubted me. So we trained and danced and practiced until my feet bled. One day, before I knew it, we were the best. We quickly flew up the ranks in the professional circuit, sweeping competition after competition, but I took a bad spill in practice one night and nearly ruined my dance career. I was on crutches for weeks, and the weekend I was going to resume dance practice, I got a panicked phone call from Massimo, Dominic’s brother.”

  Samantha breathed out in recognition. “He said you danced into his life at the aquarium. He meant that literally.”

  Lucinda nodded, then slouched. “Massimo was calling to tell me that Dominic had collapsed in the Commons during his run. He kept saying something about an undiagnosed heart condition. It took me forever to get him to tell me that Dominic had died. It’s like he couldn’t believe it. Some days I still don’t believe it.”

  “Oh, Luce.” Samantha’s expression was pained, silent tears rolled down her face. Lucinda knew her face mirrored Samantha’s. She struggled to finish.

  “I didn’t dance after that. Not for a long time. Part of me blamed myself for what happened—I should have been training with him. Had I not been distracted during that practice and injured myself, I would have been beside him. Maybe that would have made the difference—maybe time would have been on our side.” She shrugged. “No matter how many times I tried to partner up again, the connection was always missing. No one could replace Dominic. Eventually I stopped trying to compete altogether. I finished school, found a career that I loved almost as much as dance, and tried to move on. I couldn’t fully give it up though—I opened that dance studio in his honor and try to give the gift of dance to everyone I meet.” She wiped her face, exhausted.

  Samantha was silent for a few moments before she murmured quietly, “I’m glad I met you.” She smiled and added, almost inaudibly, “I’m not going anywhere either, okay?”

  Lucinda felt some of her pain lessen as she tugged Samantha onto her lap, wrapping her into a loose hug. “I’m glad I met you too. I’m quite fond of you, you know?” She nuzzled Samantha’s neck and kissed the skin softly.

  Samantha nodded and pressed her lips to Lucinda’s. “Me too.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Samantha sat at her desk, admiring the large bouquet Lucinda had sent her yesterday. As silly as it seemed to be celebrating a one-month anniversary, Samantha couldn’t be happier. Things had been going so well that she wondered if by the time the Improper Bostonian article ran that she might no longer be one of Boston’s most eligible bachelorettes. The thought warmed her; Lucinda entering her life had been exactly the change of pace she had needed.

  Her first appointment of the day was with Logan Carter. When her clientele had become more and more affluent, she found herself having to do more background work than originally anticipated. She had commissioned Logan as a private investigator to check up on both her clients and the potential admirers. He was a retired police officer in his midforties who had left the force after an injury rendered him unable to work the beat.

  She met with him about once a month, though with the way things were buzzing since their relaunch she had already seen him twice in two weeks. When the article was published later this month, she expected another influx of calls. Last week alone they had six new clients for whom she had to organize dates and run background checks on the potential ladies and men. Logan would be by any minute to give her an update on the list she’d sent him.

  A soft knocking at her door drew her attention to Logan’s smiling face.

  “Come on in,” Samantha called from her desk, closing the window on the screen in front of her.

  “Hey, Samantha, happy Friday. How’s it going?” An attractive man with an athletic build and slightly graying hair, he had a smooth timbre to his voice.

  “Oh, you know, desperate people looking for love, me trying to filter out the wack-jobs.” She gestured for him to sit. “What do you have for me today?”

  “I have to say, I was surprised to get another list from you. You guys must be crazy here.”

  “You have no idea. Anything interesting?”

  Log
an pulled a folder from his bag and started reading down the list: a few women with shady credit history were after Shelly; Alec Frost had gotten into an altercation with an ex-boyfriend of some waitress he was harassing at a restaurant over the weekend; a new client had two children she’d failed to mention on the application; two people applying for the position of Samantha’s new assistant had lied on their resumes; and someone named Lucinda Moss had an assault charge filed against her a few years ago.

  Samantha hoped her voice was steady as she said, “Who told you to look up Lucinda Moss?”

  “I did.” Andrew appeared in the doorway, shuffling head shots. “I want to know more about that, Logan,” he pressed. “What else do you know about the assault charge?”

  Samantha found herself holding her breath in fury and nervous anticipation.

  Logan cleared his throat. “It happened a few years ago, between Ms. Moss, a Grace Richter, and someone identified only as Suspect Two. It looks like some sort of lovers’ quarrel with a third party involved. It only went as far as paperwork in the station, and it was eventually dropped.”

  “Who filed the grievance?” Andrew arched an eyebrow as he sat on Samantha’s office couch.

  “Grace Richter. I figured you might be curious about her too, since this Moss person was bolded in the email.” Samantha shot Andrew a death glare. Logan continued. “She’s the daughter of some well-known chef in the area. It seems as though she was heavily encouraged by her father to file the complaint. She didn’t pursue it long—there’s evidence that her statement was recanted later on. All in all, Lucinda Moss came back clean. She does have a spotty back history though. She was in foster care for most of her life with multiple residences associated with her name. She danced professionally for a short stint, went to college locally, and works at a marketing firm downtown now.” He shrugged and closed his folder.

  Samantha was seething. Andrew had a guarded look with his hands clasped in his lap but said nothing.