Page 62 of Wish You Were Mine
Then I said, “Also…in case you were wondering, I’m slightly terrified of your dad.”
“What?” Lucy shot me a skeptical look. “My dad is scary? That’s crazy talk. He’s like…the biggest softy I’ve ever met.”
I gave her a long, pointed look.
“Okay, fine.” She huffed a laugh. “So maybe my cute niece is the only one who brings out that side of him.”
“Yeah.” I shoved my hands deeper into my coat pockets. “When he sat by us at the meet, I about had a heart attack. I was convinced he’d somehow pick up on…something. Like if I so much as glanced your way, he’d know.”
She gave me a sideways glance, cheeks pink from the wind—or maybe from the memory of the meet. “Well, did you like it? What you said afterward was really nice. But do you actually like watching gymnastics?”
“It was really cool,” I said honestly. “I’ve watched a little. The Olympics, a few meets back at Yale…but that was my first in a while.”
“Yale?” Her brow lifted. “Thebartenderwent to Yale?”
I chuckled under my breath. “Yeah. Full-ride scholarship too.”
“Geez.” She shook her head with a sheepish grin. “How embarrassing for Nicole and me to assume you’d never even been to college.”
I shrugged it off and pivoted the conversation. “You got a scholarship here, though, didn’t you?”
“For gymnastics,” she said. “Academics were okay. But spending so much time in the gym and barely scraping by with my online classes…let’s just say, academics weren’t exactly my forte. Which I’m sure you already know if you’ve graded my test from yesterday.”
“You didn’t do too bad,” I said, glancing at her. “A B’s pretty solid.”
She let out a sigh. “Tell that to my dad.”
“Is he pretty tough, then?” I asked, remembering the way he’d critiqued her routine. Not harsh but definitely exacting. Focused.
We stopped at the intersection, and I hit the crosswalk button. A few cars whooshed past, tires hissing against damp pavement.
“I don’t know how much Theo’s told you about growing up,” she said, checking for traffic. “But Archibalds don’t get B’s.”
“So he expects a lot.”
“Yep.” She gave a small nod. “But it pushes me to do my best. To work hard. So I guess I can’t be too upset.”
I looked at her, noticing the tight line of her shoulders, the fatigue behind her eyes. It wasn’t hard to recognize the signs of burnout when you’d lived through it yourself—and I’d bet she was closer to the edge than she wanted to admit.
She must’ve noticed me watching too closely because she cleared her throat and glanced away.
“Anyway,” she said quickly, “Theo’s turning thirty in a few weeks. I was thinking of planning a surprise party and inviting a bunch of his friends.”
“That sounds fun.”
“I thought so.” Her smile returned. “And since you two seem to be buddies, I had this idea that maybe you could take him out for dinner or drinks that night. I’lloffer to babysit Charlotte as an excuse to get in, and while you’re out, Nora and I can decorate and get everything set up. Then when you bring him back—bam! Surprise party.”
I smiled. “That’s actually a pretty genius plan.”
“Thanks. So…would you be up for that?”
“What day were you thinking?”
“February twelfth.”
I pulled out my phone and swiped to my calendar, scanning through the second week of February. “Looks like it’s a Saturday,” I said. “I sometimes work at The Garden on weekends, but I haven’t made the schedule for that one yet. I’ll just swap and work Friday instead.”
“Thanks,” she said, her breath puffing visibly in the cold air. “That would be amazing.”
