Redamancy

Luke's POV. 30

Luke

     One damn week.
   One more damned week and she'll leave me.
      The idea of not having her around makes me weak. No more exchanging looks nor 'fuck me eyes' that she hates but seems to love as well, no more teasing, no more laughs, no hugs...
    No more of her.
It's infuriating knowing that she'll be far away from here. Exactly 1065 km away from me.
Not to mention that she'll be busy, and won't answer any of my emails or my texts.
Neither will I be able to visit her apartment, just to come up with an unreasonable excuse to be there with her.
Our fake dating that I was willing to do until she got comfortable so I could take her to bed, felt wrong.
Not that I don't want to fuck her. I still want to. Every damn day. However, it felt wrong to do her dirty.
She said that she only slept with men who she loved. And I should I have respected that.
I should have left her alone once she said no. She deserved something better. That moment of lovemaking she always wished for. Yet, I was so fucking careless that I ignored what she always wanted.
Meanwhile, she gave me something I thought I didn't want.
Non-sexual affection.
I'm a man wired to use sex as connecting. I feel closer to someone. Or that's what I thought I could feel with her.
It feels like it at the beginning but it's never enough. Not for her.
And if it's not enough for her, I feel I'm getting farther away each time I try.
Why am I even trying?
Why am I even worrying?
I used her already. Done.
Move on to the next.
But how can I crave for her arms around me? Why do I want to try to have those difficult conversations to let her know of my best and painful moments?
I know she is trying to know me.
I know she gets turned on when she gives me pleasure and lets me fuck her as I want.
But what does she want?
Love?
Can I be able to give that? Will I be able to give in, and let her know everything about me?
It's so hard when all my life I kept things to myself. I had no one to hear me.
No one who I could express what I felt.
I was never allowed.
And now, this woman comes and thinks she can accomplish something that I've never done in years.
She'll probably stop loving me once she sees my flaws.
Same drawbacks my parents have.
Careless of the things she wants, competitive of having what I want, rude to any that deserves it, greedy because I have to, trust issues...sarcastic
Well, wouldn't count on that last one cause she loves it while...others don't.
Wait. She doesn't love me.
She can't love me, right?
"Excuse me, Mr. Huxley."
Susan calls but I remain still while looking over the city.
"You have an appointment."
"Cancel it."
"Too late. I'm here now," a low voice says and I tense.
The words brought me out of my thoughts. Way too fiercely.
"Leave us," my father says but Susan does not comply until I nod at her, assuring that I'll deal with him.
Once the door closes shut, I sigh loudly for him to hear. "Is Deborah here with you?"
"She's your mother Luke. Stop calling her—"
"I won't call her that way. She doesn't deserve that title," I declared. "Is she here," I repeat myself already annoyed.
"No. She's in a meeting in a New York."
"Shouldn't you be with her." I clench my jaw and my focus remains outside.
I hear how he shuffles behind me and serves a drink for himself. The liquid falls inside the glass gracefully.
"Came here with a purpose actually."
I finally turn around and face him.
He wears a gray suit and his white hairstyle gives that old rich man vibes from him. He looks even ten years younger than his age.
Few wrinkles that show off the years of tiredness that he has worked his ass off instead of spending time with his only son.
Can't understand how they compare us. We only shared the same height and dark eyes. Opposite of what my mom looks like.
No wonder how he has slept with many young women that my mom is aware of. They want his money and he wants sex with those fake bodies he seems to get pleasure from.
Appearance is what I called my mom's tolerance for my father's infidelity.
Something that I promised myself I would never do if I dated someone. I despise being like him.
Or even her.
No wonder why they don't love each other anymore.
They do work as the perfect business couple. But as a real and married one? Not even close.
"Your mom and I are worried—"
"Worried? Woah, glad to hear that you care for me after all these years," I interrupt with a sarcastic tone.
"—we are worried of you," he continues, ignoring my attitude and word selection for him.
"The girl you're dating. Are you really planning to marry her? Is that a new step you're willing to take right now?"
"Oh. I see." I smile in realization. "You think I'm going to regret marrying her like you did with Deborah?"
He rolls his eyes. "Can you just shut up and listen? The quicker I say it, the quicker I'll leave."
"Go on."
He takes a sip of his whiskey and takes a seat in front of my desk, the same one I walked toward to so, I could face him.
"When are you marrying her?" He tilts his head and locks eyes with me. Both of us exchanging hard looks. "Or did you already use her and move on to the next?"
My hands turn into tight grips. Bitterness taking over me.
"We will marry once she graduates from college," I declare. "Why? You think your son doesn't deserve to be happy?"
"Aren't you already happy? With all the money you've got? Hmm?"
"No." I narrow my eyes. "Not even close," I continue, "I can't be happy if I don't have what I want."
"So, are you buying her?" He smiles behind his glass. Feeling amused by my reaction.
"You can't buy love, father." The last word comes out in a greedy tone.
"But certainly you can pay heavily for it," he adds which makes me feel guiltier.
Silence takes over, and the tension between us intensifies.
"I'm just asking because your mother is worried about the impressions you are going to make," he shrugs. "She says that if you won't marry a woman of her choice, certainly she wants to make her like one."
"She's perfect the way she is," I maintained.
"Really?" He laughs bitterly. "Thought my son was more into blondies and...big quantities."
I glare at him. "Careful with your words. I can interpret them differently and this meeting could end wrongly."
He laughs again. "Relax son. Just wanted to confirm what I thought."
"Yeah, and what's that?"
"That you are fucked up." He shakes his head and drinks all the way. "Call your mother for the wedding arrangements. She'll love to help. Or at least she would love to send you the people who could help you."
He straightens and places the glass on my table.
He pauses to look around until his attention falls on me. "Why don't you join us for Sunday breakfast? We'll eat like a family."
My heart drops. And hatred fulfills me.
Family.
A happy family.
"You can bring her if that's what you want." He suggests and begins to turn around and leave.
But I wanted him to feel what I felt. Would he care if I didn't go at least?
He was never proud of my work. Neither of who I chose as my partner.
But it tranquilized him knowing that I got lots of money as he did.
Appearances again.
"We are busy. Maybe next time," I repeat the words they have said to me for years.
    The after taste making me swallow harshly.
It was matter of seconds when he realizes and smiles. Not nicely. Not understandably.
He just does.
"Next time then." He nods before he tries to open the door.
      "You only came to say that?" I finally ask.
      "Actually no." He sighs and glances at me. "There's another dinner, at the Park Plaza hotel in New York." He pauses. "I want you to come with me."
      "Really?" I coldly say.
    My heart doesn't react anymore. There's no favorable emotion.
      Not even pity towards him, as he tries to become a father after all these years. Thought he really cared who I got involved with but, he—and my mom—just care for appearances instead of worrying if I'm happy.
      Absurd.
     Fucking absurd from his side.
       "Yeah, around seven. All of my colleagues will be there. Remember it's an annual event that has such importance for me." He turns around to completely face me. "Your mother will be there."
      "Awee," I mock. "You and Deborah are finally making it work? You used to take that girl named—" I pretend to recall her name. "Emma." 
     He looks away and clenches his jaw in irritation, making me smile again.
"Have you matured?"
"I matured when I was seven. Had to take care of myself then."
"Well doesn't seem like it." He shakes his head. "If you don't want to go, fine. Don't go then but, do not disrespect me, Luke. You have no right when all I've ever done is to give you everything that you want," he cautioned. "All I'm trying to do is to have you near us. You're about to turn thirty in a couple of years, and you still going to have resentment of us not being with you on Holidays?"
"You mean Holidays and my childhood, teenage years—"
"We were working. We had better things to do. For. Your. Future."
"You already have enough money. Enough that you don't know how to spend it instead of giving it to a bunch of whores."
"Aren't you the same son? Because when you are already bored with it, at least I'm having fun with it."
I snigger and try to get back to work. "Who is the immature one here?" I sarcastically say.
"Time is up. I have another meeting to go to. So, if you don't mind—" I look at him coldly. "—Susan will help you out."
He remained silent and just left with nothing else to say.
     Susan tried to follow his lead but he walked past her to leave.
     I sighed and leaned back in my chair. Tension building in my shoulders and everywhere else.
   How could he be so insensitive? So fucking blind to what he caused me?
     Both of them were careless of my feelings. However, I did feel grateful for all the privileges they gave me. At least they cared to give me a good education and everything else that I would need.
     Except for a home.
       A home where I could go back to.
    I wanted to look at them as good examples for my future, but they were not even close to that. Their love was convenient. Their addiction to money overpowered them and they never noticed how I struggled by myself.
     To express what I needed.
    A brother would have been enough at that time.
     My staff tried to talk to me but then I remembered that they got probably paid for it. They probably did not care like them.
       It was all the same.
     "Fill my whole afternoon with meetings Susan," I say once she steps into my office. "And schedule one with the scholarship director from the University I told you about."
      She tried to fight a smile. "You want to pretend that she won a scholarship so you can pay for her education?"
      "Careful Susan," I slowly say. "I know you like her but if she gets to know..."
      "I won't tell anyone, I promise." She nods and writes it down in her agenda. "By the way, you have dinner with the executive managers of the airlines. Starts at seven, do you want me to cancel?"
       "No. I'll be there."
      She nods again and I focus in my inbox, where I stare at the thousands of emails that are not from her.
      Her words begin to sink again at the thought of what she said a week ago.
         But I push it away by focusing or at least trying to do so, by writing another email to the operational team.
        "That will be all. Thanks, Susan."
    I hear how her heels echo as she starts to leave but eventually her footsteps stop. "I know I'm not allowed to leave this early but—" I glance at her and notice how hopeful she was for my response. "—but I was wondering if I could leave in an hour. Today is my boyfriend's birthday and I wanted to do something special with him today. I know that you—"
      "You can go," I simply said and looked down to continue typing. "I'll take care of everything."
      She goes silent but a moment later she cries out in happiness. "Thanks, boss." She smiles widely and hugs her agenda so tightly that it might even fall apart.
       "Don't worry about it."
       "Okay!"
    And before I could ask her one more thing she had left the room in a rush.
    Once I was left alone, I wondered to myself if Lenna could get that happy for me. That excited to do something where I'll be near her.
    But it's just an illusion.
    My dad will ridicule me when he finds out that all the marriage I'm talking about is fictitious. God, I don't even think we could be that.
     She wouldn't even accept. She's too young filled with fantasies that she expects to fulfill.

Damn.
       It's going to be a long night.