Page 60 of One Pucking Chance

“Time-out.” I hit the tips of my fingers against the palm of my other in the classic time-out motion. “I have so many questions. First, are all of your ‘friends,’”—I use air quotes on the last word—“employees at your favorite restaurants? Why do you call your friend Louis four-eyed? And Mama Mia specializes in tacos and pizza? What’s the more? Sushi? I am so confused.”

Anna and Miranda exchange amused grins. “First of all,” Anna says. “I’m not digging the air quotes, my love.”

“I’m just saying. Are these friends like Bethy from the Italian place is a friend?” I ask.

“Hey.” Anna pins me with a serious stare. “Bethy is a friend. We have history. To answer the rest the four-eyed thing started as a joke of some sort. Something funny happened. Right?” she asks Miranda.

“Yeah. It was funny, and the name stuck, but I don’t remember what happened exactly.” Miranda purses her lips.

“Me either. Anyway.” Anna returns her attention to me. “The more at Mama Mia’s changes by the week. Sometimes it’s sandwiches. Sometimes it’s pasta. Oh, remember pierogi week?” she asks Miranda. “That was good.”

“Oh my gosh, you’re so right. Pierogi week was amazing.” Miranda answers.

“Was there another question?” Anna asks.

I shrug. “Honestly, I can’t remember. But answer this. Is there anyone in this city you’ll miss who doesn’t work at a food joint?”

She looks at Miranda and then back at me. “I don’t think so,” she says.

“That’s what I thought.” I chuckle. “So let’s go meet your bestie Manuel. I haven’t had a good empanada in a long time.”

CHAPTER

TWENTY-SEVEN

ANNALISE

It’s been three months since my mother passed and almost as long since I spoke to my father. In my heart, they both died on that day. I had to grieve both of my parents because having my father in my life was no longer an option. He’s never been good for me. Now that I finally see it, I’m putting my happiness and the happiness of those I love first.

My father and I shared a few civilized exchanges, seeing that we had an audience, at my mother’s funeral, and that was the last time we’ve had any contact. The funeral was as beautiful as one can be. I had no question my father would make it a gala to remember. When others’ judgments are at stake, no expense is spared. Oddly enough, the funeral wasn’t one of the worst days of my life. It was sad to say goodbye to my parents. Death is never easy. With Jaden at my side, it was bearable. In a weird way, it felt cathartic because I knew it was the final step until I broke free.

I’ve since sold my place in LA. Jaden and I bought a gorgeous house here in Michigan, a few miles away from the arena and close to all of his teammates. We picked it out and decorated it together, and when I’m here, I’m completely at peace. I’m home. Of course, anywhere Jaden is will always be home for me. My oasis has one flaw, and it’s the weather. This Cali girl has yet to warm to the cold, snow, and ice of a Michigan winter. Jaden reassures me that I’ll get used to it, but I highly doubt I will. I suppose nothing is perfect.

I’ve been seeing a therapist twice a week and attending support groups for children of narcissists. Apparently, these groups are a thing, and not only that, they’re surprisingly well-attended. All these years of feeling hopeless, never knowing I was living under a veil of abuse. So many of my life decisions and behaviors make sense to me now.

I still love everything about my craft and have no intention of giving it up now that I’ve moved away from Hollywood. Ideally, I want to find a project I can produce and direct here in Michigan so I can be close to home. Jaden assures me that no matter where my career leads me, we’ll figure it out, and I believe him. The main difference in me is that I’m no longer afraid. I’m living a life surrounded by hope and love—real love—and it’s pretty incredible.

I eye the large framed selfie of Jaden and me from our first date at the apple orchard. It’s displayed above our bed. In the corner of the frame beneath the glass is the four-leaf clover I found. Every time I look at the picture, I smile. When he snapped the selfie, I remember thinking no way would there be a second date, but at least he had a photo to remember our singular outing by. There was never anything wrong with Jaden. I was always the problem, too wrapped up in my insecurities. He was handsome, charming, and sweet from the start. He’s been a constant in my life since I first met him. I was emotionally closed off while chasing some faux sense of security that would never be found.

Grateful doesn’t fully grasp what I feel when I think of Jaden’s persistence. My constant rejection could’ve shattered his ego. He could’ve easily moved on and found happiness with another woman. Yet he remained steady, sure that I was the one for him, and I’m so damn fortunate he did. I guess a four-leaf clover brings luck after all.

The front door opens and closes, indicating Jaden’s return from practice. “Babe!” he calls out.

“In the bedroom,” I call back. I’m standing in front of a full-length mirror wearing nothing but a tiny pair of black satin panties, a matching bra, and a lacy garter belt holding up a pair of thigh-high pantyhose with clips. Jaden is picking up my dress from the dry cleaners on his way home.

He steps into the room. “I have your dre… what the fuck, babe.” His mouth falls open, and he tosses the plastic garment bag containing my dress onto the chair. He makes it over to me in two big strides and smooths his hands down my sides. “You are the hottest woman I have ever seen.”

Standing behind me, he takes in our reflection in the mirror. “How much time do we have?”

“Not enough.” My grin fades as he circles his arms around me and trails his fingers over the swell of my breasts.

He moves my hair to the side and presses soft kisses over my shoulder, all the while keeping an eye on me in the mirror. “How long?” his hot breath whispers against my skin.

“An hour, max,” I groan as he slides his hands into the front of my bra and twists and tugs at my nipples.

“So. Much. Time,” he says between kisses as his lips make their way up my neck and to the base of my ear.

I sigh as he removes his fingers from my bra and trails them down my sides, goose bumps appearing in their wake. “But I’ve already showered and…” My protest decreases in volume until it diminishes altogether.

---