Page 19 of The Lucky One

“Thank you.”

We stand there for a couple of long moments, sizing each other up in the quiet. I guess the house doesn’t see this as an opportunity to torture us, because nothing happens.

“And to be clear, I can have fun without my planner.” She tips her head in a way that suggests she’s questioning if that’s true versus telling me it is, but I’m not going to point that out.

“Prove it then.”

“Fine.” She shrugs. “We’ll go to The Magic Crumb today.”

It would probably be inappropriate to do a celebration dance in front of her, so I smile at her instead. “Sounds delicious.”

“It will be. I hope you’re hungry.”

There’s another quiet pause.

I’m not sure what to say because she’s not exactly forthcoming with what's on her mind. Every tidbit of information I get from her seems to be forced by circumstance and while I’ll collect every crumb she drops, I want more. Faster.

There’s one question that I guess we should probably address before we head into town and see her future brother-in-law. I’ve already pushed her this morning, so might as well push a little more.

“Do we need to talk about the video call?”

If I thought she was closed off and defensive before, I was wrong.

“I’d rather not,” she says, gripping the collar of her robe. “I mean, I appreciate what you did.”

“You could’ve handled it without me,” I say.

Surprise flickers in her eyes. “You made it easier.”

That was actually… nice. Sort of a compliment.

“So, why are you here, Goldilocks?” I flinch and grit my teeth. “Sorry. That’s gonna be a tough habit to break.”

She chuckles, her shoulders dropping a little. “Consider that your pass because I think you might actually be genuine right now. I told my sisters I’d come for a visit. And I needed a break. You suggested that part, remember?”

Oh, I remember. And I’m starting to think my subconscious wanted to see her more than I realized. She’s not in a place where she needs to be hit on. I’m not in a place where I can really be what she might need.

But maybe—if my gut is right about her—we can help each other.

“I did.” I grasp the counter behind me and lean back. “But I’m still not hearing the real reason.”

Color creeps up her neck, a lovely little pink that reminds me of Easter when it’s next to the purple of her robe. Not what I should be thinking about, but eggs and bunnies are probably the safer choice.

Nothitting on the pretty girl.

“I don’t know you, Weston. What makes you think I’m going to spill my guts to you?”

“Maybe that’s exactly why. Youdon’tknow me. I’m neutral.”

Lies. I’m far from neutral. No matter how much I’d like to pretend I can be Switzerland for her, I’m not. Not after the way her spunk grabbed me in October, or the sadness that felt adjacent to mine in January. Especially not after seeing how Andrew made her feel.

But I want her to feel safe. So I’ll tuck that all into a box if that’s what it takes to get her to talk to me. Because she’s sure not talking to anyone else.

I’d know because I’m not talking to anyone else, either.

“He’s history,” she says softly. “That’s what you need to know.”

I want to ask if she thinks he’ll be a problem in the future, but I think I’ve hit my limit for now on how much I can push. So I stick with the most basic question left for me to ask.

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