forget the pretend engagement and I’m just going to promise to show you a fabulous time tonight. For the moment, I’ll leave you to your gambling—though for someone as worried about money as you it’s an odd choice of pastime.”
He had a point. But she didn’t think the ten dollars in quarters she’d burned through was going to bring down Better Todays.
“Judging by your betting nature, it’s one you indulge in on a regular basis. Isn’t it, rich boy? Nice life you’ve got there.” She stuck her tongue out, hoping it kept her words playful rather than sounding as bitter as they tasted.
Sighing, he leaned down like he would kiss her. “Money never bought me a better life. Stuff can make life easier, but easier and better are rarely the same things.” He shoved a quarter in her machine. “At the end of the day, happiness still can’t be bought. See you after dinner.”
The reels spun as he walked deeper into the casino.
He made it sound so simple, but he really didn’t understand anything about her life. She’d only told him the pretty parts—the ones fit for public consumption. Money might not buy happiness, but it bought a lot of other things. It could buy the kids safety, eventually buy them an escape from whatever bad cycle or neighborhood they were stuck in.
It could keep them from clinging to the wrong people for an escape, for salvation, and help them find their way to a better life through their own talents and hard work.
It could do a lot of good, and maybe—just maybe—if she could find enough money, do enough good, it would buy her absolution. And that would be a lot like happiness.
When the machine finally stopped spinning, bells erupted and a light on the top flashed and danced. Mercedes blinked at the screen. Five hundred dollars.
Part of her wanted to race after Lucas and thank him. The money would more than pay for surprises to take back to the kids. But the other part of her—the part that had never left the park where she lay down with little Marco that night, unable to stop his bleeding bullet wound—wanted to hate Lucas for the simple fact that even something so stupid as a winning slot machine pull had come easy to him.
Chapter Seven
Scowling, Lucas pushed the bar up and off the rack, the muscles in his arms and chest straining already, just the way he needed. He still hadn’t figured out if Mercedes was toying with him or if she didn’t care that they wereafter the same property. Every time they were together, it just felt right . Felt good enough to make him want more.
Could he really afford to think beyond the cruise? Did he want to?
She’d brought up the end of the week—pointing out their time together was limited—which reinforced that when they stepped off the ship, they’d go their separate ways. At best they’d see each other at charity events. That was how it should be—two lives intersecting and diverging again. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t stop thinking about her or that he kept hearing Rosie’s voice as his damn conscience at moments like this, urging him to chase after Mercedes no matter what.
He didn’t do that, damn it. Chasing had long-term implications, and long-term led to love. Love inevitably led to heartbreak. The one time he’d really opened his heart, death had ripped Rosie from him. Just as it had stolen away her husband. For a while he’d thought love would be worth the risk, but no more. He wasn’t willing to suffer that sort of devastation again.
Keep it light and easy; that was his motto.
Still, he chuckled, thinking about how Rosie would have liked Mercedes’s passion for helping kids. Her disdain for material possessions. Her smart mouth and biting wit.
The way she made Luc laugh and just… be .
He couldn’t do it though. Rosie or no Rosie, he would not lose himself. Especially when he knew damn well Mercedes was keeping secrets. There were things she didn’t want to share, which only proved they weren’t
He had a point. But she didn’t think the ten dollars in quarters she’d burned through was going to bring down Better Todays.
“Judging by your betting nature, it’s one you indulge in on a regular basis. Isn’t it, rich boy? Nice life you’ve got there.” She stuck her tongue out, hoping it kept her words playful rather than sounding as bitter as they tasted.
Sighing, he leaned down like he would kiss her. “Money never bought me a better life. Stuff can make life easier, but easier and better are rarely the same things.” He shoved a quarter in her machine. “At the end of the day, happiness still can’t be bought. See you after dinner.”
The reels spun as he walked deeper into the casino.
He made it sound so simple, but he really didn’t understand anything about her life. She’d only told him the pretty parts—the ones fit for public consumption. Money might not buy happiness, but it bought a lot of other things. It could buy the kids safety, eventually buy them an escape from whatever bad cycle or neighborhood they were stuck in.
It could keep them from clinging to the wrong people for an escape, for salvation, and help them find their way to a better life through their own talents and hard work.
It could do a lot of good, and maybe—just maybe—if she could find enough money, do enough good, it would buy her absolution. And that would be a lot like happiness.
When the machine finally stopped spinning, bells erupted and a light on the top flashed and danced. Mercedes blinked at the screen. Five hundred dollars.
Part of her wanted to race after Lucas and thank him. The money would more than pay for surprises to take back to the kids. But the other part of her—the part that had never left the park where she lay down with little Marco that night, unable to stop his bleeding bullet wound—wanted to hate Lucas for the simple fact that even something so stupid as a winning slot machine pull had come easy to him.
Chapter Seven
Scowling, Lucas pushed the bar up and off the rack, the muscles in his arms and chest straining already, just the way he needed. He still hadn’t figured out if Mercedes was toying with him or if she didn’t care that they wereafter the same property. Every time they were together, it just felt right . Felt good enough to make him want more.
Could he really afford to think beyond the cruise? Did he want to?
She’d brought up the end of the week—pointing out their time together was limited—which reinforced that when they stepped off the ship, they’d go their separate ways. At best they’d see each other at charity events. That was how it should be—two lives intersecting and diverging again. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t stop thinking about her or that he kept hearing Rosie’s voice as his damn conscience at moments like this, urging him to chase after Mercedes no matter what.
He didn’t do that, damn it. Chasing had long-term implications, and long-term led to love. Love inevitably led to heartbreak. The one time he’d really opened his heart, death had ripped Rosie from him. Just as it had stolen away her husband. For a while he’d thought love would be worth the risk, but no more. He wasn’t willing to suffer that sort of devastation again.
Keep it light and easy; that was his motto.
Still, he chuckled, thinking about how Rosie would have liked Mercedes’s passion for helping kids. Her disdain for material possessions. Her smart mouth and biting wit.
The way she made Luc laugh and just… be .
He couldn’t do it though. Rosie or no Rosie, he would not lose himself. Especially when he knew damn well Mercedes was keeping secrets. There were things she didn’t want to share, which only proved they weren’t
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