Page 5 of The Lucky One

“I would love some Currywurst.” She smiled.

“Cool.” I gave a casual shrug. It wasn’t like it was a date, having dinner together—but going from lovers to siblings was a thing I still struggled to figure out. How do you treat each other when all you want to do is hold her and kiss her cheeks?

We went to the dining room and I took my seat at the table. Emily stood there, staring at the lit candle, and the atmosphere suddenly felt too date-like. “Should I blow out the candle?”

“It’s okay,” she replied, shaking her head a bit too quickly and taking her seat across from me. “I just thought we’d watch TV or something.”

“Yeah, we can do that too.” I forced a smile. Watching TV was the last thing I wanted right now. I missed the times we had dinner together at the dining table.

“No, you went to all this trouble. Let’s eat here.”

“Fine by me.” I grabbed my fork. “Guten Appetit,” I said with almost no accent, courtesy of the time I spent in Germany.

“Guten Appetit.” Emily smiled appreciatively.

I took a bite of the sausage, finding it a kind of burned, and the sauce had a slimy texture that made me want to gag. Emily made a face while chewing but she nodded and gave a thumbs-up. She was such a terrible liar.

“So, um... how’s football practice?” she asked a point on the wall behind me. “Do you think you’ll be able to play next season?”

“Maybe. I’m taking it slow.”

“Yeah, better be careful with your foot,” she said, and I noticed the unease in her voice. My gaze drifted back to my plate. My foot had healed from my crazy run up the mountains in Germany but it was still weak. “I’m sorry, I, um... shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

“Why?”

“Um...” She was trying to stab a sausage with her fork but kept missing. “I read about how it happened.”

Jon must’ve written all about it in his little black book. He was always scribbling in that thing. I shook my head. I should’ve been the one to tell her first... but I had missed my chance.

Emily poked around in her bowl, chewing more on the inside of her cheeks than her food. “So, you’re still taking that environmental science class at college?” she asked, avoiding eye contact. Why couldn’t she even look at me?

“Yeah. I want to study the wind turbines in Germany.”

“Great, really great.” She stared down at her plate.

I dropped my silverware. “I hate this.”

Finally she looked up. Clouds had taken over her eyes. “Yeah, to be honest, it tastes a bit weird.”

I sighed. “Not the food, Emi. Even though it sucks too. I mean this.” I gestured between us.

“Oh...” She leaned back in her chair and pulled one leg up to her chest. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No. It’s just...” A crowd of questions swarmed my mind. But now that we were sitting here, I didn’t know where to start. “I’m really trying, Emi. But after I picked you up from jail, we never actually talked about what happened. We went from being inseparable to not being able to be alone in a room, and I... I fucking hate this.”

Her other leg came up to her chest and she hugged her knees, her gaze fixed on the candle flame. I regretted lighting it even more now.

“I don’t know what to say, Paul,” she whispered.

I felt the anger returning, coiling in my muscles. Couldn’t she see that I deserved a conversation? Answers? The truth? I’d given her time to process everything, but by now weeks had passed without closure.

She brushed her hair over her cheeks. “I feel terrible...”

“And you think I don’t?” My grip tightened around my fork. “You left me for my best friend, Emily! And now what—you can’t even talk to me? Like I meant nothing to you?!”

“That’s not true,” she squealed. Her eyes welled up with tears. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

I didn’t want to make her cry. Emily crying was the worst sight I could see. I reached across the table for her hand. “Babycakes...” It slipped out before I could think.

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