Page 55 of Third Time Lucky

Lucy

Thank you. Until tomorrow, then. Goodnight, Ash.

My phone lies forgotten on the nightstand as I try to process the unexpected depth of our conversation. Talking about Kris is like opening old wounds, ones that I’ve kept hidden for so long. But with Ash, it’s different. He gets it. And he listens in a way that no one else ever has and somehow that’s got my heart digging itself out of its shallow grave, bit by bit. He’s amazing and sort of unexpected.

15

ASHER

As I stroll through Mitzi’s museum of a house, my arms laden with reusable grocery bags, the faint sound of a door opening and closing reaches me.

Lucy appears in front of me, gracefully gliding out of her bedroom. The room brightens as she enters, like a ray of sunshine bursting through the clouds. Or maybe that’s just how I feel when I’m around her. I swear it’s gonna take a while before I get used to seeing her again.

‘Oh! My gosh.’ Her hand flies to her chest with a gasp. ‘I didn’t realize you were already here,’ she says with a shaky laugh. ‘I thought I could hear Mitzi.’

‘I’m sorry I scared you.’

She waves a hand as if it’s no big deal. ‘Can I help you?’

Her hair cascades over one shoulder in a perfect braid, accentuating her delicate features. A diamond stud necklace sparkles in the mid-morning light beaming through the kitchen windows. Silver bands haphazardly adorn her fingers, and her nails are painted a vibrant blue, adding to the energy radiating from her. She’s wearing a charming floral print sundress that hugs her curves – curves I shouldn’t be noticing, but am. And her sandals are laced up her calves in an intricate pattern. With each step she takes, her smile grows brighter, and her eyes dance excitedly. She is breathtaking.

‘Bringing all the groceries into the house in one trip has been a challenge I’ve enjoyed since I was a child,’ I joke, offloading the six full bags hanging off my arms. One bag wobbles – causing me momentary grief that I’ll have to pick up a dozen oranges if it falls – but instead, it stabilizes, and I exhale a relieved breath. ‘Looks like I still got it,’ I say, winking Lucy’s way.

She laughs, shaking her head. ‘You’re just full of hidden talents I never knew you had, aren’t you?’

‘You’ve got no idea,’ I tease. ‘How’s your day been?’

The warmth of the sunlight streaming through the windows casts a cozy glow over us as we catch up. I don’t cook on the weekends, so it’s been a couple of days since I’ve seen her.

Her shoulders rise and fall with a nonchalant shrug. She seems more relaxed around me today, which I didn’t expect after learning she knew I knew what she’d said. Thank God she doesn’t know what it’s doing to me internally. Yet.

‘Just the usual,’ she replies, her tone hinting at boredom. ‘Zoom calls that could have been emails, a handful of deadlines – some met, others pushed back. And a new client was thrown into the mix.’

Curiosity kicks in, and I realize I haven’t yet asked about her job. ‘What do you do, exactly?’

Her pink lips quirk into a small smile. ‘I’m a freelance graphic designer.’

I nod, impressed. ‘That’s cool. Do you work from home?’

‘Yeah, I have the flexibility to set my own schedule, so I often work on weekends because Mitzi is usually out with her friends at one of their many social gatherings. Sometimes, the peace can be quite refreshing.’

‘Mitzi’s active still, is she?’

‘Oh, yes,’ she confirms, perching on a barstool at the kitchen island as I unpack bags. ‘What day is it today? Monday?’ She taps her phone screen to double-check the date. ‘Right now, she’s at an upscale Catholic church for Monday morning Mass with her friend Kitty, probably lighting a candle to bless our family with whatever she deems necessary. Tonight, she’ll call me into her room to tell me she prayed for me and got an immediate answer – then she’ll try to imprint that answer in my mind because she believes she’s doing me a favor.’

I chuckle. ‘Are the prayers at least good ones?’

Lucy tilts her head. ‘After Vegas, she prayed that a man would enter my life and sweep me off my feet by Christmas.’

‘By Christmas?’ I repeat her words.

We were in Vegas the week after Christmas, so her deadline for answering that prayer is this upcoming Christmas. I’m curious if Mitzi remembers this. I also wonder how often she’s right.

As I continue unpacking groceries, Lucy leans back on the barstool with a wistful expression. ‘You know…’ she starts, absentmindedly swirling the water bottle in her hand. ‘I sometimes envy Mitzi’s optimism – her unshakeable faith that everything will work out. She swears that people get what they deserve because karma’s never wrong.’

I pause, meeting Lucy’s gaze. ‘Do you believe in all that? Prayers being answered and fate intervening?’

She shrugs, a small smile playing on her lips. ‘I don’t know if I believe in prayers per se, but I do believe in the power of hope. Sometimes, when everything seems bleak, a glimmer of hope is all you need to keep going. As for fate, I don’t think it likes me.’

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