Page 56 of The Lucky One

It’s the best idea I’ve ever heard.

“Then let’s figure it out as we go. But why don’t we get this girl adopted first? Looks like we’ll have two dogs in the parade today.”

“I’m adopting a dog,” she says, beaming like she won the lottery.

I think she’s found something she’d save in a fire.

I grin. “Well hurry up. Bailey is ready for a playmate.”

She stands, then heads over to the volunteer that was helping her. If I’m quick, then I can find what I’m looking for and make it back by the time she’s done.

Our lives seemed to be intertwined even before we ate the Faerie Tart, and I’m ready to double down and make it official.

twenty

BRIDGET

I clutchthe small paper lantern in my hands, while groups of people huddle on the outskirt of the pond. Every Friday night in March at Ever After Farms, there’s a Lucky Lantern release, where everyone writes a wish on a lantern, and then lights it to release it on the lake.

But tonight is a special occasion, since it’s St. Patrick’s Day. Two in one week.

Cue the confetti and magic.

I look out over the water, contemplating how wild it is that in this general area roughly six months ago, I met Weston for the first time.

It wasn’t exactly a great meet cute either. He was charming and I was extremely uptight. If it wouldn’t undo this week—I’d wish for a redo on that front.

But the woman who has gone through everything since wouldn’t appreciate Weston like I do now. So it would be wasted. Iwantto be grateful for everything that led us to this moment: baggage, scars, and all.

That doesn’t solve my predicament though. What could Ipossiblywish for that I don’t already have?

Money is typically the first thing people wish for. The thing is, I had money and it didn’t solve any problems or buy happiness. I was pretty miserable.

I don’t want to wish for a fulfilling career because I’m really not even sure Iwantone. I’ve been told for so long who I am and what I should do that I never had a chance to explore that side of my life, so I think I’d like to figure it out myself.

Maybe it was my upbringing, but I’ve always thought productivity directly correlated to success. The more I did, the more worth I had. When really, all it did, was turn me into a shell of myself. A person carefully crafted to please and shine forotherpeople.

I want joy. Outside of Weston and Bailey and Willow—I’m not sure what that looks like.

I want to love who I am.

I want to see what happens when you fully throw yourself into feelings about a person, who is also doing the same. No rules, no expectations, no plans.

When I came here to stay at Wanderlust Refuge, I was broken. In just a week, Weston has coaxed the woman inside of me out of hiding. Maybe not all the way—but she’s tipping her face toward the sun and experiencing hope.

If that’s not love, I don’t know what is. It’s everything I imagined itshouldbe, with the last person I ever expected to feel that way about.

Love is a choice, not a wish. It’s something we’ll have to work for and even though I think it’s wild to feel this way about someone after a week, I’m embracing it.

“Having trouble deciding what to write?”

I gaze up at Weston, his signature lazy grin painting his handsome face.

“I guess.” I shrug. “There’s not anything I want. I think—for the first time—I’m happy not really knowing what comes next.”

He leans down to whisper in my ear, “What about world peace?”

Joy blooms in my chest: wild and unencumbered. “I’m not sureanymagic is strong enough to grant that wish.”

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