Page 74 of Third Time Lucky

Ah… there she is. Closure. I’d bet this is what Aaron means that I’ve never told off a woman who hurt me. And she did it in one breath, expertly.

He just stares at her. Wordlessly. Painfully.

‘Consider this goodbye, Brandon. I can’t wait to never see you again.’ With that, she turns on one toe and heads back toward me.

As she settles back at our table, the café around us buzzes with the usual chatter. She takes a sip of her coffee, calmly as if nothing just happened.

And Brandon just walks away.

We sit in silence, the buzzing of the café around us providing a comforting backdrop. I raise my coffee cup in a silent toast to her. She – an absolute badass in my eyes – returns the gesture, a newfound sense of freedom shining in her eyes. I am falling for this girl so freaking hard.

21

LUCY

My God. I think I had a breakthrough. Yesterday, I told Brandon to be gone, and he left. And it felt… pretty good. Then, this morning, I successfully used the oven. Of course, Ash wrote down very detailed instructions, but still, I think my luck’s turning around.

Morning sun rays dance across the room, illuminating every surface as they stream through the windows, painting us in warm hues. The enticing smell of freshly made espresso wafts through the air, accompanied by the delicate hint of cinnamon emanating from Asher’s homemade rolls.

He’s not here right now, as eight in the morning is too early for his liking. But the cinnamon rolls he could sell on the sidewalk to strangers, now sit, fully baked, on a serving place in the middle of the dining table, tempting us all.

‘Where did you say you got these?’ Dad asks, helping himself to his second.

He stops by before work a couple of times a month to catch up, make sure everything is in order, and ensure Mitzi is still kicking. We’ll worry if she ever loses her biting wit.

‘Asher, our chef, made them,’ Mitzi says, sipping her coffee.

‘You have a chef?’ he asks, then lifts his head, looking right at me. ‘Asher? How do I know that name?’

‘Kris’ best friend.’

‘Right!’ he says as if it were on his tongue’s tip. ‘Do you see much of him?’

‘He’s here Monday through Friday,’ Mitzi says. ‘A wonderful young man.’

Dad looks my way. ‘Do you think so too?’

He’s always trying to marry me off. Or at least hoping I find a man who will take care of me, so he doesn’t have to worry.

After Brandon and I broke up, Dad stopped by every morning on his way to work just to make sure I was eating and leaving my room. He’d bring me coffee and breakfast, and Mitzi would check on me in the evenings, ensuring I had dinner. I was depressed, to say the least. Humiliation masked some of it. I never wanted to show my face again anywhere. But the world doesn’t work like that. Sure, I can order pretty much anything I need and have it delivered right to my door but a girl’s got to get out of the house at some point.

‘If we compare him to the last guy I spent time with, he’s a saint.’

‘Wouldn’t take much to outrank the Antichrist, would it?’ Dad says with a chuckle.

Should I tell these two I ran into Brandon? How dare he act as if I was the problem in our relationship. Like I’m the reason he got caught. That bastard. And he gave my ring – a custom-made diamond that I personally picked out – to someone else? That seems wrong on so many levels.

‘No, it wouldn’t,’ I say, hesitating. ‘Question for you—’ I summon the courage to bring it up – vaguely – at least. I need to know.

‘Let’s say you’re a man whose engagement ended badly, and you find a spark with someone else, so you propose. Do you use the ring you already have from the failed engagement or buy a new one specifically for this relationship?’

Both Dad and Mitzi turn their gaze to me, Dad with a cinnamon roll mid-air to his mouth.

‘The ring is a promise. Giving that promise to someone else might curse the whole darn thing. So, I say, you return the ring you had and buy a new one, no question,’ Dad answers.

Mitzi eyes bore through me. ‘Did this happen, darling?’

I nod. ‘Yes. Ash and I ran into Brandon yesterday, and he’s engaged. Again.’

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