RUSH (City Lights, #3)(78)
“Yeah, he and my father are on a working vacation, I guess.”
“Good,” I said, sitting back. “It’ll be good to see him again.”
The closer the train got to Connecticut, the more nervous I became. I wasn’t exactly smooth socializing with people my own age, never mind those that lived in huge, sprawling manors and had names like Grayson Lake III. I felt like a country bumpkin. Or like a hippie, in my loose bohemian dress and sandals. I imagined they were all tall like Noah, and I’d be the little child tripping at their heels.
The New Canaan train station was neat and quaint-looking, and Lucien Caron, looked just as neat and quaint. He stood almost alone on the platform in his pale yellow suit and paler blue ascot with a diamond winking from the center in the brilliant sunshine. I watched with tears in my eyes, as Lucien took Noah by the shoulders and slowly drew him into a tight embrace.
“Oh, my boy.” Lucien dabbed his eyes with a silk handkerchief.
“Okay, okay.” Noah cleared his throat.
“Charlotte, ma chere,” Lucien said, and it was my turn for a hug. He smelled of expensive clothes, cologne, and his Dunhill cigarettes. He didn’t say anything for fear of making Noah self-conscious, but when he pulled away, his eyes spoke volumes of gratitude.
“Ava arrived late last night,” Lucien said after we’d stowed our luggage—one rolling bag each—in the trunk of his silver Cadillac sedan. “She’s very…curious to see you, Noah.”
“I’ll bet,” he said darkly. I glanced at him. All the hard edges and lines had returned to his face and when I offered to sit in the backseat, he bit off a smart remark about the view being all the same to him.
“Hey.” I pulled him aside while Lucien discreetly smoked a cigarette a few feet away. “What’s going on?”
“I’m sorry, Christ, I’m so sorry.” Noah’s eyes aimlessly roamed the parking lot. “This suddenly got a lot harder than I thought. I’ve been a dick to everyone for so long, it’s like my default setting. I just know I won’t be able to take a bunch of crowing about improvement and acceptance and…”
I held his hand to my lips. “You’re going to be surrounded by people who love you and have missed you. There’s bound to be some ooh-ing and ahh-ing.”
He nodded reluctantly. “But if I ask you to run away with me, promise you’ll say yes or I won’t get very far.”
I laughed and kissed him, and he seemed bolstered.
We departed the station with Noah sitting in the backseat and me riding shotgun. Lucien described the scenery as he drove through tree lined drives, bordered by the most enormous houses I had ever seen. Some were barely visible behind gated walls, or tucked at the end of long drives. Lucien’s running commentary was for Noah’s benefit, but he deftly directed it to me as the guest and newcomer to Connecticut.
He pulled the car into a circular drive that fronted an enormous white house with gabled third-story windows. Trees surrounded the manor on three sides, giving it the appearance of being tucked into its own miniature forest. A lush lawn that seemed too green to be real lay spread before it, buffering it from the street.
I stared up through the car window. “This is your house?”
Lucien patted my hand. “You will find quite a warm welcome within, my dear, I assure you.”
I nodded and slipped out of the car wishing I had worn something a little less casual than my dress and sandals. Like a tiara or one of those fur stoles that have the fox heads still attached.
Noah and Lucien trundled the luggage behind them, and Noah took my arm with his free hand. His face was drawn and I decided only one of us should be freaking out, and I should probably let it be him. I was out of my element, but Noah’s expression was of tumult of regret and longing. I kissed his cheek.
“I’m here for you.”
His hard edges softened, and he turned his gaze in my direction. “And that’s how I get through this weekend.”
Lucien led us up a paved stone walk and opened one of the two enormous wrought iron and glass doors. I followed with Noah on my arm behind me as we stepped into a foyer laid with hard wood in a rich caramel color and white walls.
Mr. and Mrs. Lake were standing stiffly at the base of a winding staircase, as if they’d decided that meeting Noah there appeared less eager than out front. Both gray-haired, both dressed as if they’d just come from brunch at the Club. They may have, for all I knew. They both were nervous as hell too, but they tried to hide it behind manners and what my mother would call “good breeding.”
Victoria Lake tugged at a string of pearls around her neck while Grayson rocked on his heels, hands in pockets, his lips pursed. As soon as her son crossed the threshold, I saw tears spring to Mrs. Lakes, eyes and she approached him slowly, as if walking underwater.
“Noah,” she said. “I’d like to hug you now.”
“Okay, Mom,” Noah said hoarsely. He let go of my arm, and I stepped aside so Mrs. Lake could carefully put her arms around his neck. When he hugged her back, first hesitantly, than tightly, a little sound escaped her, and my vision instantly blurred.
“You look wonderful,” Mrs. Lake said, holding Noah at arms’ length. “Doesn’t he look just so healthy and strong? Grayson?”
Mr. Lake strode forward. “Son.”