Downing Abbey – Chapter 17

**(Lucas)**

I was hoping for Abigail, so my heart leapt when the door actually cracked open.

Seeing those brown eyes was the confirmation, and I barely noticed that the rest of the woman was aged about thirty years. She was softer around the edges, but the same beautiful brown hair, bright eyes, and warm smile completed her demeanor.

My mouth opened slightly and my eyes narrowed about the same amount, contemplating what this meant.

I wondered if I had traveled forwards through a channel of time, and the inevitable father was showing me what I would be missing out on. Perhaps on the other side of the door was her children, now already teenagers perhaps, and another man, her husband.

That man would not be me.

But instead of pimply teens and a lucky Joe, I was met with a wet, blonde canine with unruly, curly fur. It sprung up on its hind legs, imprinting wet paw marks on my slacks. I felt its paws, meaning I wasn’t simply an omniscient scout ferried by father time.

‘Oh dear,’ future-Abigail said. ‘I’m so sorry!’ And she fell into a laugh.

Her voice was a shade deeper, perhaps a little scratchier, but her laugh was definitely a different resonance altogether, coming from low in her belly.

This wasn’t Abigail, and suddenly it struck me, but she confirmed it before I could ask.

‘Hi,’ she said, extending a wet hand. ‘I’m Susan. Abigail’s mom.’

I had imagined this moment a dozen times in my head, but meeting Abigail’s parent while she and I were on the rocks and with a wet dog in between wasn’t a scenario I considered.

‘Hi,’ I said, hoping I was smiling with teeth. ‘I’m sorry to intrude, I’m – ’

‘You’re Lucas,’ she interjected, smiling. ‘I recognize you by your voice.’

We’ve only but met, but she’s already familiar enough with me to cut me off mid-sentence. I can see where Abigail gets her brazen charm.

‘Right . . . about that . . . sorry – ’

‘I’m glad you did,’ she nodded, pulling me into an embrace, and I breathed out a sigh of relief. ‘I’m so sorry about your pants,’ she cried, looking embarrassed. ‘Dear, they look like expensive ones too . . .’

It should have been me feeling embarrassed, but her warm smile erased that immediately. ‘Missus May,’ I started, finding my tongue amidst the confusion. ‘I’m so sorry for coming without any notice, and I can see that you have your hands full with Fido.’ I pointed to the dog busy chasing his or her own tail. ‘I was hoping to catch Abigail. Is she here?’

‘Well, I can see why you’re such a good lawyer. That tongue is well honed,’ she winked.

I blushed the kind of blush I used to get when my mom praised me for something insignificant.

‘Abigail’s not back yet, but she will be soon,’ she said, tilting her head as if an idea popped inside. ‘Would you like to help me clean . . . Fido?’ she asked.

The truth was that I felt T-boned by the sudden encounter. I normally had days, or at least a few hours to prepare for meetings with people of importance – and in my eyes, Abigail’s mother was second only to the woman herself. But upon closer inspection, I could see she was having a rough go at the activity.

The carpet showed a ring of damp spots around the plastic pool, and her hair was frizzy from being splashed upon. Her sundress was wet as well, and ripped at one edge. One look at the dog and I could see it was a strong animal. I’d put it at about seventy-five pounds, and judging by it’s endless energy, wasn’t afraid to throw every gram of it around. Too much for one woman to handle.

‘Of course,’ I smiled, and this time I made *sure* there was teeth. ‘I would love to know the story behind this fella.’

‘Fantastic! Let’s get him back into the tub.’

I felt exactly what made it a *him* as I lifted him underneath the legs and set him back into the water. I braced my hands out for errant splashing but the water seemed to calm him.

Just like it did my mother.

Shaking my head, I chuckled lightly to myself.

‘Something funny?’ Susan asked, using a small pot to pour water over the body.

‘It’s just, you know with you being here and this dog . . . this dog just reminded me of my mom. I’ve been thinking about her a lot today.’

‘Oh really?’ she asked, frowning at Fido. ‘I hope it’s complementary thoughts.’

I laughed. ‘She was a busy blonde whose energy was only smoothed by the waters,’ I explained. ‘And Fido looks to be the same.’

‘Was?’ she asked. She was a careful listener.

‘Was.’ I replied.

Sounds from ripples of water dripping off Fido’s back into the pool filled the air.

‘Sorry, I’ve been calling your dog Fido this whole time,’ I said, attempting to ease away from solemn ground. ‘It must be your dog because I don’t remember Abigail having one.’ And I realized I had let it slip that this wasn’t the first time I’d been inside this apartment.

If she caught on, she never showed it, face softening as she gazed at the animal. ‘Oh I love dogs, but I would never bring one on a flight. It’s such a stressful experience for them.’

Caring, conscientious, thoughtful.

She continued. ‘Abigail was going to meet with your sister, so I decided to walk back first, and this guy wouldn’t leave me alone! Followed me all the way back here. Nearly as bad as Abigail’s father was when I first met him,’ she winked.

I chortled. ‘So you decided to keep him?’

She shrugged. ‘Well, I didn’t see a tattoo inside his ear, and we’ll have to get him checked for a chip later, but he had dried mud all over his belly. The poor thing needed a good cleaning,’ she said as she scratched behind his ears.

She asked me about myself as we cleaned. Where I was from, my thoughts about my job, my siblings. Her questions danced around the edges of personal, but never stepped within the diameter, and before I knew it, I felt like I was talking to a friend – strange considering she wasn’t family.

‘Before Abigail comes back,’ she said, shifting the conversation and piquing my interest. ‘I wanted to tell you that she’s worth all this headache. I know she created the mess between you two.’

I shook my head, muttering consolations.

‘Lucas,’ Susan said in a serious tone, drawing my attention towards her wise eyes. ‘My daughter can be complicated, I know. She puts on a tough front, and I applaud you for being one of the few who has stuck around long enough to break past that spikey shield.’

I simply smiled and waited, because she wasn’t done yet.

‘But you know that she’s a lot more delicate inside,’ she sighed. ‘She cried for a week straight after coming in second place at her first regionals. She is stubbornly competitive, tends to overthink, and judges herself based on her past.’

Susan’s hands kept moving, but her tongue was finding the right motions. ‘And she can be so passionate it works against her.’

I let out my breath. ‘I think all the best people are like that,’ I murmured, grinning.

I drew another smile from Susan, but before she could respond, the front door swung open, and that familiar face with those blue eyes glanced around the room. With her phone to her ear, Abigail looked mildly gaunt, her jawline a little more pronounced, her clothes hanging slightly off her frame.

It broke my heart, but seeing her again still took my breath away.

I’ve never seen *anything* so beautiful.

_____________________________________________

**(Abigail)**

‘Uh, Stace,’ I wavered, ‘I’m going to have to call you back.’

There was too much going on here. My carpet was soaked – the dog seemed to the culprit, my mom was oddly close to Luke – like they were all buddy-buddy, and Luke was staring a hole through me with the Death Star’s laser.

‘Why is *it* here?’ I shot, folding my arms over my chest.

Luke began stammering, scratching the back of his head and swallowing over and over. ‘I – I’m here, well, I’m here because . . . you see, it’s really –’

‘I mean the dog,’ I said, rolling my eyes. ‘Whose dog is that and why is it using my living room as a waterpark?’

My mom spoke up in a tone far too damn even for this scene. ‘Honey, I’ll explain everything later.’ She turned towards Luke. ‘I’ll be fine finishing this up alone,’ she smiled. ‘You two figure things out.’

High off my “aha” moment, I pointed to Luke’s surprised face, and like an order, said ‘follow me’ as I strode towards my bedroom. This didn’t need to be messy, but it had to be done.

He rose, but out of the corner of my eye, I could see his hesitant eyes glancing between my mother and I. Tunnel-visioned, she paid his nervous swivel no attention, busy shampooing the dog who was laid down and seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the soapy, maternal massage.

“Sit,’ I tried saying cordially, pointing to the corner of my bed, but it came out for like a command. He did, and even in his nervous disposition, I couldn’t resist thinking about wanting to bite his lip.

*Focus, May, focus*.

We sat across from each other few a few awkward seconds, until he coughed strategically and said, ‘So how have you –’

I stopped the line of questioning with a simple finger, and seeing his mouth snap shut, oddly missed this power that he allowed me. ‘Tell me about your dating history,’ I jutted. May as well get to the point.

‘Excuse me?’ His eyebrows furrowed.

I didn’t offer an explanation.

‘You want to know about my ex’s?’

‘Is that a problem?’

He breathed out a laugh. ‘No, it’s just . . . well it’s just that it’s a little out of nowhere.’ He looked into my eyes, and for a moment, the room disappeared, and all I could think about were sparkling green oceans and rolling pastures. ‘Why?’

‘I have my reasons,’ I replied bluntly.

He took a deep breath, and my stomach pinched, thinking that this was going to be a long list. Of course it would be. He was filthy rich, successful, and far too easy on the eyes.

The perfect mixture for a man-whore.

‘My first was Tammy,’ he said, staring off into the wall behind me. ‘She was my first for a lot of things. We dated for three years in high school, and she was a year younger. After I graduated we tried to keep things going but – ’

‘No details,’ I said too pointedly, and immediately regretted it. Noticing the wary look in his eyes, I added, ‘I’d like to know at a future time, but not right now.’

*A future time*.

*Don’t make promises you can’t keep*.

Nodding, he continued. ‘In college, there was Michelle. That ended when Yale became – ’ He cut himself off. ‘Sorry, no details,’ and I offered a tight smile as a silent appreciation.

‘The latest one was . . . Pamela,’ he said, avoiding my eyes. He knew that I knew, but did he know I wanted to hold him, to tell him that it wasn’t his fault? ‘Is that all you wanted?’

I shook my head. ‘What about all the women in between Michelle and Pamela?’

He shrugged. ‘There was a year where I had my . . . *Jacob* phase,’ he stretched, clearly embarrassed and swallowed again. ‘But that ended years ago, you know that.’

His “Jacob” phase. I knew he was once a testosterone-inflated meathead, but from what I knew, that was almost another person compared to the professional sitting in front of me now. ‘No other relationships?’

He frowned. ‘No, not really. Unless you count the married lesbians who I saw for a few months on and off . . .’ I raised a brow. ‘Sorry, it was a weird time –’ he began panicking, hands motioning faster and faster in eccentric movements.

I let out a pure, unadulterated laugh that bounced off the walls of my small bedroom. ‘It’s fine,’ I said, calming the freak show. ‘I experimented a bit in college as well.’

‘Oh,’ he frowned, looking down at the floor, arms folded.

‘With other girls,’ I added. ‘Within my sorority.’

‘*Oh*,’ he said, voice raising at the end and a dirty smirk spread across his mouth. ‘I can . . . imagine.’

‘You’re such a pervert,’ I giggled, shaking my head and tucking a strand of hair behind my ears.

He laughed as well, and we were left staring into each other’s eyes for just a few seconds before I looked away, the tension proving too much. Four days sounded like small potatoes, but my thighs were pressed against each other, screaming at me to pounce. I felt the flush climb up towards my neck, and underneath my blouse, I could feel my nipples budding into the soft fabric of my bra.

I was expecting a lot worse, and three exes (or five, if we count Ellen DeGeneres and Portia De Rossi) wasn’t even close to the inflated numbers I was fearing.

Suddenly, I felt lighter than I had all week, and I looked at Luke and his wet, tousled hair. His look was hungry and carnal, and I felt *every* bit of it. My body had been holding back because of my mind, but the latter was beginning to come around as well.

Fuck it.

Eyes saw eyes, hands grabbed hands, and lips met lips, and *yes yes yes* this is what I wanted, *needed*.

‘Wait,’ I said abruptly, pulling back. ‘Stop.’

He watched me with a worried frown, jaw clenched.

‘Let me check on my mom,’ I said, kissing his cheek, feeling the muscles loosen.

The living room was empty. Confused, I pulled out my phone.

**Mom:** Taking Fido out for a walk! Will be gone an hour or two!

Smirking, I returned to my room, and my lips dried at the lust in Luke’s look.

‘She’s walking the dog for an hour or two,’ I murmured, stepping closer towards the bed.

‘An hour or two?’ he asked, voice low, desperate, reaching out for me.

‘Just enough,’ I replied in a whisper, before slipping into those arms that felt like home.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/7nso7s/downing_abbey_chapter_17