Chapter 66 God Is A Woman.

Chapter 66 God Is A Woman.
~SCARLETT.

God is a woman.

No seriously, that's the only explanation.

Because after the hellstorm that was yesterday-the punch, the rage, the ball-clutching silence-I woke up this morning feeling like I could conquer the damn world.

I don't know what it was.

Maybe it was the sight of him limping out of my house, clutching himself like I'd just ended his bloodline and erased his family tree.

Maybe it was the rare thrill of seeing him take it without barking back: no shouting, no rage. Just... pain.

Silent. Stunned. Deserved.

He left without a word.

And somehow, that silence was louder than anything he could've said.

For once, I had the power.

And God, I liked it.

So when I woke up still high on that delicious, smug afterglow, "God is a woman by ARIANA GRANDE" started playing in my head, and I didn't question a thing. I just let it soundtrack my morning.

An hour later, I was suspended halfway up my pole, upside down in nothing but a black thong and six-inch heels. Sweat slicked my spine, hair clung to my neck, and I moved like sex and vengeance made flesh.

No stage. No audience.

Just me. My body. My rhythm.

Freedom.

When I finally dismounted with a slow, twisting spin, my heart thundered, thighs quivering from the strain. My skin was flushed, glowing. Still swaying to the ghost of a rhythm, I made my way to the dresser and checked the time.

10:03.

Holy shit.

A hand raked through my damp, tangled hair, lungs still working to catch up, when a name smacked me in the face like ice water.

Lucas.

The barbecue.

Noon.

I froze.

I could back out. Hell, I probably should.

I didn't need him anymore. I'd handled Liam on my own. I didn't need a pawn. Not anymore.

But the guilt curled low in my gut like a slow burn.

Lucas didn't deserve to be used. He was decent. Open. Too genuine for the way I'd used him.

And I wasn't Liam.

I refused to be him.

So no, I wouldn't ghost. I'd go, be polite, share a meal, and end things the right way.

Decision made, I stripped off the heels and thong, stepped into the shower, and let the water wash away the sweat... and whatever guilt still clung to me.

I took my time getting ready. Moisturizer. Mascara. Gloss. Armor.

By 12:00, I was sliding into a fitted black dress and pulling on thigh-high boots. One glance at the mirror told me everything.

I looked good.

Too good for a barbecue? Probably.

But if he invited me, he'd have to deal.

The doorbell rang.

I grabbed my phone and purse, walked out of the bedroom, crossed the living room, and opened the door.

Lucas stood on the porch in jeans and a plain tee, jacket half-zipped, hair tousled like he'd lost a fight with his pillow.

He blinked when he saw me. Then just... stared.

"Wow," he breathed. "You... you look amazing."

I smiled. "Thanks. You clean up alright yourself."

His cheeks went pink. "Shall we?"

I stepped out. But something made me pause.

A flicker. A pull.

Across the street, Liam's house stood still and silent, but the air felt... off. Heavy. Charged. Like unseen eyes were watching. 

I glanced at the windows, just shadows behind glass, but the feeling clung to me, refusing to let go.

Shaking it off, I forced my feet forward and followed Lucas to a sleek black car that purred low: smooth, and expensive.

He opened the door for me. I slid in. The leather was cool against my thighs.

As he climbed in and started the engine, he glanced over. "Thanks again," he said softly. "For coming."

"No problem," I replied.

The car eased into motion. A beat of quiet passed, then...

"Soo..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Figured we should, you know, actually get to know each other. In case my mom starts grilling."

I gave a short laugh. "Smart move."

He smiled, then paused. "So... parents?"

The word landed like a slap. My gaze locked on the road ahead. Jaw clenched. "Gone."

He tensed beside me. "Shit. I-I'm sorry."

"It was a long time ago," I said flatly.

He didn't push. After a moment, he asked, "Got any siblings?"

"Nope."

"I've got a little brother," he offered, a smile audible in his voice. "Caleb. He's a menace, but he's my favorite human. Smart as hell. Talks back to everyone. I'm convinced he'll either run the world or blow it up."

I couldn't help a small smile. "Sounds like a handful."

Lucas chuckled. "He is. But he's everything."

Something about the way he said it-soft, unguarded-tightened something in my chest. It felt honest. Real.

We sank into silence again. Comfortable this time.

Then-

"So... who was the guy from yesterday?"

I swallowed. "Someone from my past," I said carefully. "We used to be close. Not anymore."

He nodded once. No judgment. No questions. Just quiet understanding.

Eventually, the city fell away. Concrete faded into green. Trees closed in around us, thick at first, then breaking open again as the road curved along the edge of a lake.

A lake house appeared like it had always been there.

Spacious, but not showy. Wide glass windows framed a sloped roof, the weathered wood siding giving it a soft, lived-in feel. A long porch stretched toward the water, lined with mismatched chairs and potted plants that had seen better days. It looked expensive, but in the kind of way that didn't feel like it needed to prove it.

Lucas pulled in behind a matte-black Range Rover and cut the engine.

"We're here," he said, voice slightly tight. 

The driveway was packed: A BMW, Benzes, one sleek, foreign car that looked more spaceship than sedan. Money, clearly. But the house itself didn't feel cold.

Lucas inhaled, slow and deep. I reached over and gave his arm a light squeeze.

"You've got this."

A flicker of a smile. "Thanks."

We climbed out and made our way around the house to the backyard.

Smoke curled from a grill off to the side. Wildflowers-sunflowers, hydrangeas, and whatever else they'd thrown together-sat in mismatched glass jars along a long wooden table. A string of fairy lights hung above, swaying gently in the breeze. Soft instrumental music floated from somewhere near the hedges.

A total of four other people were already present. Lucas pointed as we walked. "That's Aunt Sylvia and Uncle Martin."

Sylvia was short and round, wrapped in a lemon-print dress that clashed boldly with her cherry-red lipstick. She was talking loudly with her hands, halfway through some story that didn't seem to require much of an audience.

Martin stood beside her, tucked-in polo and mirrored sunglasses, scrolling through his phone with one hand while his Bluetooth earpiece blinked quietly in the other.

Lucas gestured casually. "That's my cousin Dani."

I followed his gaze to the girl slouched in a patio chair like the world owed her a nap. She wore a black tank top and ripped jeans, dark eyeliner smudged beneath her eyes. Her phone lit up every few seconds, but she never looked up-not once.

"And over by the grill?" Lucas added. "That's Matteo... also my cousin."

Matteo stood behind the grill, spatula in one hand, wearing a fitted black tee and a stained apron. He was shorter and stockier. His gaze landed on me and lingered, sharp, quiet, like he was trying to place me. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, and something about it made my skin crawl.

Before I could look away, someone shrieked like a firecracker going off.

"Oh my God, Lucas! Baby!"

Sylvia barreled toward us and yanked Lucas into a hug, swaying him side to side like he was still five. Then she turned to me with wide, glittering eyes.

"And this must be the girl you've been talking about!"

Lucas blinked. "Aunt... this is Red. Red, this is my Aunt Sylvia."

"Red?" She arched a penciled brow. "Is that your real name?"

I gave her an easy smile. "Sort of."

"Well, it's beautiful. You're beautiful. Lucas, you didn't tell me she was stunning!"

Lucas muttered something like I did under his breath.

We were introduced around. Everyone was polite, a little too curious, and Matteo's eyes lingered too long, like recognition was just on the tip of his tongue.

I kept smiling anyway.

Lucas glanced around. "Where's Mom? And Caleb?"

There was a pause. Sylvia's smile thinned slightly. "She's... not here yet."

Lucas frowned. "She said she'd come early."

"Please," came a cool, polished, impossibly sure voice. "I arrive precisely when I intend to."

We turned.

A woman stepped into the backyard like the sun had been made to follow her. Her dark curls framed her face like art, and the dress she wore hugged her like it had been stitched by hand just for her.

She didn't look like Lucas, except for the eyes. That same burning amber.

My stomach twisted.

No. 

No, no, no.

I knew that face.

A memory knocked against my skull, close, but blurred, like something submerged just beneath the surface.

Then something small and fast darted past her legs.

"Lucas!!"

A little boy came running full-speed, arms outstretched, laughter echoing behind him.

Lucas lit up, crouched low, and scooped him up in one easy motion, spinning him in a hug.

"Hey, squirt."

I couldn't move.

Something inside me folded in on itself, quiet and crushing. The noise faded. The backyard disappeared. The sky felt too still.

Because those eyes...

That hair...

Chestnut brown. Bright green.

No.

My ears rang. My breath stalled. 

Lucas turned toward me, still smiling. "Red, meet my little brother, Caleb."

But I couldn't hear him. Because that boy?

He wasn't just Lucas's brother.

He was mine.

And in a single breathless second, it all clicked into place.

That face.

That woman.

I knew exactly who she was. 

Lucas's mom. 

And the woman who had opened her front door three years ago... and picked him up from where I left him on her porch.