A Love Like Yours Read online

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2019 by Robin Huber

  Cover design by name. [insert cover photo/art credits if applicable or delete this line.] Cover copyright © 2019 by Hachette Book Group, Inc.

  Hachette Book Group supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

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  Forever Yours

  Hachette Book Group

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  New York, NY 10104

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  First published as an ebook and as a print on demand: May 2019

  Forever Yours is an imprint of Grand Central Publishing. The Forever Yours name and logo are trademarks of Hachette Book Group, Inc.

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  ISBNs: 978-1-5387-3285-4 (ebook), 978-1-5387-3286-1 (print on demand)

  E3-20190322-DANF

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Acknowledgments

  Discover More

  About the Author

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  For my sister, Karen, who gave me

  my first romance novel.

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  She slept with wolves without fear, for the wolves knew a lion was among them.

  R. M. Drake

  Prologue

  Lucy, Eleven Years Old

  I pick at my peanut butter and jelly sandwich, tearing off the crust and shoving it to the side of my paper plate. I keep my eyes down to avoid making eye contact with the two boys sitting across the table from me. I don’t know their names, but they’re my new foster brothers. Their mother is standing over my chair with a fisted hand on her hip. “You get three chances a day to eat around here. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner. You don’t eat now, you’ll be hungry ’til morning.”

  Her firm voice draws my eyes up. Her yellow hair is tied in a knot on the top of her head, and a ring of dark brown roots surrounds her stern face. I nod obediently as she takes a drag from the cigarette hanging from her lips. But I can’t eat, not when my stomach is full of rocks, like it always is when I get moved to a new home. I’ll be hungry later, though. Probably tonight when it’s dark and everyone is asleep. I got pretty good at sneaking food at my last foster house. I sip my water and watch a trail of smoke follow her out of the room.

  One of the boys gets up from the table and folds his paper plate in half. He’s taller than the other one, who looks about my age. He must be older. “When was the last time you brushed this mess?” he asks, tugging my hair as he passes me.

  I shrink in my chair. My hair is always tangled and it’s hard to get the knots out, so I don’t brush it very much. I feel the tears coming, but I grit my teeth until they go away.

  The younger boy with buzzed hair and freckles reaches across the table and grabs my plate. “Thanks, I wanted seconds,” he says, taking my sandwich for himself.

  Another boy walks into the room and smacks it out of his hand. He’s tall and thin, and his hair is the color of caramel, hanging around his face and over his eyes. “Give it back to her, Will.”

  Will presses his lips together and slides the plate back to me.

  “You don’t mess with her, you don’t talk to her, you don’t look at her the wrong way. Understand?”

  Will swallows and nods.

  “That goes for you too, Tommy,” he says to Will’s brother, who bobs his head. He sits down in the chair next to me and moves his hair out of his eyes, which are a mix of blue and brown, unlike any eyes I’ve ever seen before. “What’s your name, newbie?”

  “Um, Lucy,” I say, looking at his strange eyes.

  “You been in the system long, um-Lucy?”

  “No, it’s just Lucy.”

  He grins and nods. “Lucy…how long you been in?”

  “Um, since I was eight. I’m eleven now, so…” I shrug. “Three years.”

  “Seven for me. Been in since I was five.”

  “You’re twelve?” I ask, surprised that he’s only a year older than me.

  “Yep.”

  “Wow,” Will says, leaning over the table. “I didn’t know your kind could add or subtract. I mean, I know you can’t read.”

  “Shut your mouth, asswipe. That’s A-S-S-W-I-P-E. Do I need to write it on your forehead so you don’t forget?”

  Will gets up from the table and Tommy follows him out of the room.

  “Just ignore Tweedledee and Tweedledum. They’re morons.”

  I giggle quietly.

  “I’m Sam, by the way. Sam Cole.”

  I nod and pick at my sandwich.

  “You have a last name, Lucy?”

  “Bennett.”

  “Well, Lucy Bennett, either of them mess with you again, just let me know.”

  “Okay.” I pick up a piece of crust and tear it in two.

  “You going to eat that or just pick the crust into a million pieces?”

  “I’m not really hungry.”

  “First day’s always hard. But don’t worry, I’ve been here for a few months now. Maxine’s pretty cool. She’s strict, but fair. She knows her boys are assholes. She’ll tear ’em up if she catches them doing anything stupid. And if they mess with you again, I’ll kick both their asses.”

  “Okay.”

  “So, what’s your story?”

  “My story?”

  “How’d you end up here?”

  “Oh, um, my mom died. And my dad’s in prison, so…”

  “Drugs?”

  I look down at my lap and nod.

  “Yeah, mine are both in for drugs too, somewhere in California.” He shakes his head. “I’ll never touch that stuff.”

  “How did you end up in Atlanta?” I ask.

  “My uncle. Turns out, he didn’t want me any more than my parents did.” He leans back in his chair. “So here I am, living the life in Brighton Park.”

  “I’m sure they wanted you. They probably just made some bad decisions. Everybody messes up.”

  He leans forward and puts his elbows on his knees. “Is that what you tell yourself? Or
has your social worker said it so much that you actually believe it?”

  “What?”

  “Our parents didn’t want us, Lucy. That’s why we’re here. The sooner you accept that, the better off you’ll be.”

  “That’s not true. My mom wanted me. She loved me.”

  “How did she die?”

  “What?”

  “How did she die?” he asks again, making me squirm uncomfortably in my seat. He stares at me, waiting for me to answer.

  “A drug overdose,” I finally say.

  “And your dad…he’s in prison for dealing, right?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “You’re here because they wanted drugs…more than they wanted you.”

  The rocks in my stomach are the size of boulders now. I get up quickly and find the room where Maxine put my book bag, and cry into the musty pillow on the bed, hoping that no one hears me.

  A few minutes later, someone knocks on the door.

  “Lucy?” Sam calls, pushing it open. He’s holding my sandwich in a ziplock bag.

  I sit up and wipe my face as he walks into the room and sits beside me.

  “I’m sorry. I was a jerk. I didn’t mean it.” He shrugs. “I guess after a while, you just get used to it all…to being on your own, to not having parents or knowing where you’re going to live in six months. I gave up on my parents—and the idea of having a family—a long time ago. But I didn’t mean to upset you. And you don’t have to give up. Maybe your dad will come for you when he gets out.”

  “No, you’re right. My dad’s not going to come for me. He didn’t want me to begin with. My mom was all I had.”

  He nods and hands me my sandwich. “Thought you might get hungry later. Just put it in your backpack so Maxine doesn’t see. And don’t leave crumbs, unless you have a thing for rats.”

  I glance around the dusty room. It’s filled with stacked boxes that are overflowing with magazines and old junk. “No.” I frown. “I don’t like rats.” I put the sandwich in my book bag.

  “Did you do those?” he asks, pointing to the colored drawings inside my bag.

  “Yeah.”

  He pulls a few of them out and looks at each one for a few seconds. “You drew these?” he asks again.

  “Yes.”

  “They’re really good.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Do you do other stuff, like paint, or do you just draw?”

  “I like to paint. I just don’t get to very much. I can usually find colored pencils lying around at school, so…”

  “Well, I’ve never seen drawings like these. They’re really cool.” He narrows his eyes at me and says, “Kind of badass.”

  “Thanks.” I smile softly. “And…thanks for the sandwich.”

  He smiles and I see dimples in his cheeks that match the one in his chin. “You’re welcome.” He stands up and walks to the door, but pauses and looks at me before he leaves. “Kids like us have to stick together, Lucy.”

  Chapter 1

  Lucy

  “Are you ever going to hang this?” my future mother-in-law asks me in her polished southern accent, picking up a painting that’s leaning against the cinder-block wall in the back of my art studio. “I just love the colors you used. The blue is so vibrant, like the sky on a cloudless spring morning. And the magenta is just gorgeous. So deep and rich. Like the color of love,” she sings, draping her cashmere scarf around my neck.

  I shake my head at her uncanny way of interpreting my paintings. But if she only knew the real meaning behind that particular one…

  “What do you call it, dear?” she asks, flitting over to it again.

  “Oh, um, I haven’t given it a name,” I say, fidgeting with the delicate gold bracelet on my wrist.

  “Well, I think it should be called True Love,” she says wistfully, throwing her arms in the air as she spins over to me. “Art inspired by life.”

  I choke a little, because the part of my life that inspired that painting is not the part I’ve spent with her son.

  “Drew loves you so much, darling. What you two have is what I had with my dear Maurice.” She sighs and laments, “You would have loved him.”

  “I’m sure I would have, Janice.”

  “Drew is just like him, you know. Hardworking and tough as nails. But soft as a teddy bear on the inside,” she says, smiling with pride. Janice has had only three loves in her life. Her late husband, Maurice Thomas Christiansen III, her son, Andrew Thomas Christiansen, and her vintage 1986 Jaguar convertible, which was a present from Maurice the year Drew was born.

  “Janice, I’m sorry, but I really need to get to work. I have a lot to do to get ready for the exhibit next month.”

  “Of course you do, darling.” She grabs her expensive purse off my desk and smooths her short silver bob. “The best of Atlanta will be here and they’ll be buzzing about the wedding.”

  “It’s still a year away.”

  “Eleven months, to be exact. And you haven’t even picked out your dress.”

  “I know, I’ve just had so much going on with the exhibit the last few months,” I say, hoping she doesn’t notice the gleam of sweat that sheens my forehead every time she brings up the lavish wedding she’s been trying to plan since Drew proposed.

  “Don’t you worry, you just leave everything up to me.” She narrows her excited eyes. “We’re going to throw the biggest party this city has ever seen.”

  “Oh, Janice, I don’t know.”

  “Nonsense. You’re marrying my only son.” She reaches for my face and smiles softly. “You are the best thing that has ever happened to him. It’s worth celebrating.” She touches my cheek with the back of her hand. “You are worth celebrating, Lucy Bennett. My beautiful, smart, talented future daughter-in-law.” She drops her hand to her purse and retrieves her lip gloss. “Now”—she dabs some gloss on her thin lips—“how do I look?”

  I smile and sigh with inevitable defeat. “You look great, Janice. Oh, don’t forget your scarf,” I say, removing it from my neck.

  She takes it from me and wraps it around her neck several times as she sashays through the studio. “Well, I’m off. Oh, Sebastian, darling, you look as handsome as ever,” she says to my assistant, passing him on her way out.

  “Thanks, Jan. You look gorgeous as always. Are those new diamonds?” he asks, touching his earlobes.

  She spins around with a big grin on her face. “Do you like them? They were an early birthday present.”

  “Oh? From who? A new suitor?” he asks, perking up in his chair.

  “Heavens no. From me.” She winks and pushes her big black sunglasses on. “Lucy, you should really think about covering these windows. It’s awfully bright in here and you have utterly no privacy. Everyone on the street can see right in.”

  I press my lips together and raise my eyebrows. “That’s the idea.”

  She nods absently and blows two kisses as she opens the door. “Bye, darlings.”

  “Bye, Janice.”

  “Oh, my God, your mother-in-law is delectable,” Sebastian says, biting the end of his pen. “I’m so jealous. Paul’s mom is such a drag.”

  “Future mother-in-law. And don’t encourage her.”

  “I’m sorry, sweetie, it’s just too tempting. You have Joan Rivers for a mother.”

  “She’s not my mother,” I remind him, and slouch against the front desk. “She’s just the woman who took me under her wing and introduced me to a community I never thought I could be a part of. The woman who told me to believe in my talents and convinced me that I could actually make a living off them. The woman who taught me to always wash my face before bed and to never leave the house without sunscreen.” I stand up straight. “Oh, my God. She is my mother.”

  Sebastian gives me a satisfied smile. “I bet Drew has no idea how fabulous she is.”

  “I’m not sure Drew would use the word ‘fabulous’ to describe anything.”

  He rolls his eyes. “You definitely scored in the mot
her-in-law department, but the jury is still out on her son.”

  “Sebastian.”

  “Well, she’s just so amazing and full of life, and he’s just so…normal.”

  “What’s wrong with normal?”

  “Nothing. If you like that sort of thing.”

  “Well, I do. As a matter of fact, normal is exactly the sort of thing I like. All I want is a nice, normal existence. So, case closed.”

  He arches one of his dark eyebrows and bites the end of his pen. “Pity.”

  I love Sebastian, from the top of his perfectly styled hair down to his patent leather loafers, but sometimes I want to throw a paintbrush at his head. He’s been happily married to his partner for three years, he lives in arguably the coolest apartment in Atlanta, his family adores him, and he’s generally pretty happy most of the time. My life is messier. Or at least, it was, until recently. Now, I’m well on my way to nice and normal.

  “Can you help me with this?” I ask, struggling to pick up a heavy box off the floor by the front desk.

  “Yeah, I’ve got it,” Bas says, taking it from me. “Where do you want it?”

  “I think it’s the paints I ordered. You can just put it in my office for now.”

  “You got it, boss lady.”

  I follow him to my office in the back of the studio.

  Sebastian probably knows me better than anyone, but I haven’t told him very much about my past. He doesn’t know why I strive so hard for normalcy. He knows that I met Drew when I was waitressing at La Pêche, one of the restaurants Drew owns here in Atlanta. But what Sebastian doesn’t know is that a few years before that, I dropped out of high school and left my foster home in Brighton Park after the love of my underprivileged life was arrested for drug possession and sent to prison. Then again, Drew doesn’t know either.

  “Hey, Paul got tickets for fight night at the Garden this Saturday,” Bas says over his shoulder. “What do you say, take a break from all this and come to New York with us for the weekend?”

  “New York? Who’s fighting?”

  “Cole versus Sanchez. I’m surprised you don’t know. I thought you were a big Sam Cole fan.”

  “I am,” I answer with what little air is left in my lungs, while I try to find my heart. “He’s fighting Mario Sanchez?”