Page 24 of The Lucky One

The dark-haired man behind the counter looks like a deer in headlights. His eyes volley between Bridget and I and once again, my question to answer ratio is obnoxiously uneven.

“Are you sure you don’t want to try a Wishing Well Scone? I made these exclusive for the week of The Shamrock Shuffle. They’re matcha-lavender with white chocolate chunks—good luck to anyone that eats them. Or I’ve got a tray of fresh kolaches?”

“No, we’ll still get the Faerie Tart. But can you also do a whole sampler of kolaches?”

Bridget is unusually quiet at this point. Spunk practically oozes out of her when we’re around each other.

I know I’m developing a bad habit of touching her without permission, but the entire room seems to be holding a collective breath while we’re standing here. It’s weird and I’m pretty used to being stared at.

So that should say something.

I lightly touch her back to hopefully encourage her to unfreeze.

“I think he’s ordered half the menu,” she says, with a laugh. It’s a little strained and I want to yank her into a dark corner and ask her to fill me in on whatever I’m missing. “Can I also get a Midnight Mischief Mocha? But without the whipped cream.”

My eyes scan the menu to see what that is. A dark chocolate, Irish whiskey-inspired mocha with sea salt and caramel. The whipped cream is mint flavored. I tuck this nugget of information away so I can ask her about it later.

“Make it two.”

“Holden, this is Weston,” Bridget says, gesturing to me.

Another puzzle piece slides into place. Holden, the future brother-in-law. That explains a little of her behavior, but I’m still seeing question marks when it comes to Sebastian, who’s still seated quietly by the window watching us.

This differs from my usual forays into town and the businesses here. There’s a vibe in the air, and I’m not sure I like it.

“Nice to meet you,” Holden says as he punches our coffee order in his terminal. “Go find a seat and I’ll bring everything to y’all, Bridget.”

“Thanks.” She nods before grabbing me by the elbow and steering me toward a small booth toward the back of the restaurant.

There aren’t many, since most of the seating consists of small wooden cafe tables. But I’m grateful for the privacy.

“This place is cool,” I say, glancing around at the wooden beams above, the scones on the walls, and the jars of fresh honey lining sturdy shelves a few feet away.

“It’s great.” She jerks me into the booth beside her. “We can’t eat the Faerie Tart.”

I stare at her, appalled. “Why?”

“If Sebastian is interested in whether or not we do, it’s a clear cut sign we need to do the exact opposite,” she says in a hushed whisper. “I’m going to talk really fast so keep up. Don’t make eye contact with him—stare at me. You know how I said that Holden and Laila had some experiences with the house? Well, that’s like.. half true.” She licks her lips as the words rattle out of her at an abnormal speed. “Laila made a wish at the farm about wishing the future was more clear or something like that and she woke up in a whole different life.”

The questions pile up faster than I can sort them out. “Like a multiverse?”

She rolls her eyes. “No, Doctor Strange. Like a Ghost of Christmas Future kind of thing.”

“Was it him?” I’m beyond intrigued. “Or the house?”

“Maybe both? We don’t know. She made the wish in front of him and he told her that it was sort of a glimpse into the futureshe could have if she’d make a decision about what she wanted.” She sighs.

“He told her this… in the multiverse.”

“You are fixated on the entirely wrong part of this conversation, Weston.”

That would solve so many problems as an adult, wouldn’t it? Decision paralysis wouldn’t even be a thing if we could see where the road might lead.

“Don’t even go there,” she says, like she can read my mind. “Magic comes with a price and it’s not worth the risk.”

“So you don’t ever make wishes? Knock on wood? Did you ever give horseshoes to brides on their wedding day?”

“You’re mixing up luck and magic. Let’s just say I have a healthy amount of respect for magic and I don’t believe in luck.” She shrugs.

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