Page 21 of The Lucky One

We’ve stopped this weird movement between us, and everything pauses. I can almost feel the house sigh.

“Oh?” she whispers.

A wisp of hair worked loose from her bun, so I reach up, brushing it out of her eyes. I let my hand hover for just a second after I tuck it behind her ear.

‘Stargazing’ by Miles Smith starts pumping through the speakers and now it’s maybe my turn to feel a little exposed. This house needs some boundaries.

“I’m going to go get dressed,” I say, stepping backward.

She exhales almost like she’s relieved and tugs the belt of her robe tighter, like it’s armor against the world.

Maybe against me.

“I’ll just be a few minutes.”

“Take however long you need,” I tell her.

As soon as she's out of the room and around the corner, I lean on the island and shake my head.

I’ve got no clue how I’m supposed to pretend to be what she needs when I’ve got no clue whatIneed.

But I guess we’re going to figure it out as we go.

seven

BRIDGET

I’ve seen justabout every major holiday in this town since October, and it’s the first time I’m wondering who decorates this place.

Is there a whole team of people? Do they have meetings? How much money do they spend on all of this?

Or are there fairies that take joy in all of this? Is this another extension of what the sweet but nosy fairy godmothers do when they’re not trying to match couples up or whatever else it is that they do?

I avoided town on the way in so no one could tell my sisters I was here early, which seems like a waste at this point. Within minutes of setting foot into The Magic Crumb, they’ll know. I probably should’ve texted them, but I’ve been a little preoccupied with all the weirdness of the last roughly fifteen hours.

In the bright morning light, there’s no missing the abundance of green, white, and orange everywhere. Literallyeverywhere. Enchanted Hollow doesn’t seem to miss a beatwhen it comes to celebrating the culture of its inhabitants, and that has its own kind of magic.

Garlands wrap around lamp posts and oversized shamrocks have replaced the heart banners that stretched across the brick streets of downtown the last time I was here. They’ve even dyed the fountain green. I swing into a parking spot where a folded chalkboard outside a shop reads ‘May the discounts rise up to meet you’.

“Is it always like this?” Weston asks as we step outside my car.

I step up onto the sidewalk and sigh. “It feels more over the top than it did when I lived here.”

“You lived here before?”

It’s a new piece of information to him, but I wasn’t really thinking when I said it. I mean, it’s true, and I’m not ashamed of it. But I am a little surprised it came out so easily to him.

“We moved when I was in high school. I was pretty preoccupied with social circles and all that.”

I hang back for a minute, curious to see how well Weston knows his way around. Unsurprisingly, he starts toward The Magic Crumb, so I follow suit. He only pauses once to step around me and walk along the outside of the sidewalk, keeping me closest to the buildings.

Who is this guy?

“High school. And who was Bridget—” he pauses.

It takes me a minute to realize why. I’ve neveractuallyintroduced myself and that’s unlike me. The man has rubbed me wrong since the day I met him, but that doesn’t give me the right to berude.I puff out my cheeks.

“Mitchell. Bridget Mitchell.” I reach out and touch his arm, to signal for him to stop walking. “I think we got off on the wrong foot. Maybe more than once.”

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