Page 18 of One More Chance

“Golden Girl?” I ask as he wraps me in a huge big-brother bear hug. He swings me around, and I laugh. Nope, he hasn’t changed much—other than growing into a more muscular version of his younger self.

He puts me down.

“That’s what he’s been calling me ever since Kim took the photos of me with gold paint on my body,” Zara says.

“I love those pictures,” I tell Kim. “They’re gorgeous.”

A slight blush rises on her beige skin. “Thanks. I’m always looking for models if you’re interested in having paint poured on you.”

The idea of anyone seeing me in a bikini sends a shiver of That’s so not happening down my spine. It’s not the idea of a bikini that’s off-putting as much as the four-inch scar on my belly that will lead to questions I don’t want to deal with. “I’ll have to get back to you on that.”

I flash her a smile that feels a little wonky and quickly shift my focus to the four Carson brothers.

Troy and Kellan hug me like a little sister, minus the swinging me around. God, I’ve missed these guys.

Lucas approaches.

Knowing I’ll never survive if he hugs me, I grab my wine from the coffee table, using it as a shield for my heart.

Confusion and hurt flicker in his eyes before his expression settles for unreadable.

We sit at the long dining room table. Somehow Lucas ends up next to me. My body stiffens like a plank of wood, easily broken with the right pressure.

What happened almost ten years ago wasn’t his fault. He wasn’t the driver who hit me. He didn’t cause me to spiral into depression because of the loss of our baby and my uterus. But that doesn’t mean parts of me don’t bleed when I look at him.

If only…if only he didn’t smell like the man I used to be in love with. The man linked to too many memories—the good and the bad and the painful.

Zara shuffles the cards and deals them.

“Now that I don’t have to worry about any more customer interruptions,” she says after we’ve been playing poker for several minutes, “are you going to tell us about your mysterious plans now that you’re no longer working at your old job?” Her gaze is on me, and the rest of the group peers at me expectantly.

“I started a subscription box business a few months ago. Each month’s box contains high-quality items based on the theme of love and romance.” Just because I’m not looking at either one in my future, it doesn’t mean I’m against the idea. I haven’t become a cynic. I enjoy the idea of doing whatever I can to help others appreciate love. To help nurture it.

Because God knows there’s not enough love in the world.

“No one knows what’s in that month’s box until they receive it.” Or until the unboxing videos and photos show up on social media. “And the items aren’t just about romantic love. It’s about loving yourself as well as loving other people.”

“That’s a great idea,” Emily says. “How’s it going?”

“So far, not too bad. I’m currently growing my customer base. Now that I’ve left my old job, I’ll have plenty of time to do that and search for products to include in each month’s box. But I also need to revamp my branding. Some of the successful female entrepreneurs and Instagram influencers post photos of themselves with their boyfriends or husbands. It’s intentional, branded, not your standard selfie.”

The three women nod. They’ve seen those images just like Avery and I have. They know what I’m talking about.

“I don’t suppose any of you know where I can rent a husband?” I laugh, not meaning it.

“Is that really a thing?” Jerome frowns in that way men do when they’re confused about something a woman has told them and they’re trying to puzzle it out.

The other four men’s expressions mirror his.

Emily, Zara, Kim, and I crack up laughing. Kim lovingly pats her husband’s hand.

“Even if it were a thing,” I say, “I wouldn’t rent a husband. Marketing works best when you’re being authentic. Especially if you’re running a small business. If you claim to be someone you’re not, it will come back and bite you in the ass.”

Zara looks at Kim to see what she wants to do with her cards.

Kim fans them and places them on the table. “Full house.” The men and Emily groan and toss their cards down. “If you’re looking for a photographer to take pictures of you for your social media, I would love to help you out. At least while you’re in Maple Ridge. Maybe we could get photos of you and your grandmother. And what about photos on the Wakefields’ land? The place is beautiful and romantic, especially by the stream. You could talk about how special the place is to you.”

I stare at Kim for a fraction of a second. She’s not talking about what Lucas and I did there. She has no idea. None of them know…other than Lucas. “I would love that. Thank you.” I place my cards on the table. Four of a kind. Queens.

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