Page 153 of My Lucky Charm

Goodbyes suck.

Saying goodbye to Scarlett—again—is heartbreaking, but at least I have a game tonight to take my mind off of it.

Celeste and Ted are tan and glowing, and I’m honestly happy she found someone, but it’s another reminder of what I’ll never have if I keep living my life the way I always do.

That thought makes me think of Eloise, and while I know I shouldn’t, I really want to call her. I have no idea what I’d say, and I don’t have any reason to call her, but I know she’d have a way of taking the sting out of this whole situation.

I promised Scarlett I’d talk to her mother to try and arrange for more time with me, and I will, but it’s going to require a lot of careful consideration. We’re co-parenting, and I’m the one who moved.

Which means it’s unfair of me to ask them to change everything.

A part of me doesn’t care. Seeing Scarlett only a few times a year isn’t going to work for either one of us.

I don’t hear from Eloise at all on Saturday or on Sunday. It’s weird.

It’s hard to admit it, but I miss her. Of course, she deserves time off, especially after all the extra time she put in with Scarlett, but I wish she was around. I wish she was in the stands cheering with Poppy. I wish she was waiting in the hallway after the game. I wish she was pulling pranks with the DJ, who is still playing “SexyBack” every time I skate out onto the ice and every time I score.

Which is a lot lately.

When she does return on Monday, it’s like she’s disappeared and been replaced. In her place is some robotic, AI version that looks like Eloise, but doesn’t act like her at all.

The only time I see a trace of the woman I thought I knew is when Scarlett calls on Thursday to check in and tell me she misses us. Scarlett gets the happy version of Eloise, but that version disappears as soon as she clicks off the phone.

Eloise makes a quick exit promptly at five, and I’m left to watch basketball highlights as I fall asleep—alone.

The next couple of weeks bring more of the same.

Fun, personable, talkative Eloise has been exchanged for a nine-to-five Eloise.

She seems intent on being the best assistant anyone has ever seen, and she proves that she’s good at it. She packs for my away games, responds to emails, manages fan mail, coordinates the photo shoot for the fabric softener endorsement with Celeste, which happens to coincide with the St. Patrick’s Day festivities she told Scarlett about when she first arrived. Probably not a coincidence. Because while she’s robotic with me, she’s her old self with Scarlett.

Her real self.

What is happening?

She works on my social media accounts, cons me into recording five different podcasts, which I only agree to because she’s the one who asks me to do it, and when I get a thank you card from Celeste and Ted, I realize she also sent them a wedding gift on my behalf.

Eloise anticipates everything I need, and she does it without hesitation or expectation of thanks.

And she’s not just helping me. Because Eloise knows so many people, she starts making connections for some of the other guys on the team. She sweet talks the owner of Bianchi into a last minute private room for Junior to propose to Kari. She and Poppy handle all the details of Monica’s baby shower like she’s a seasoned event planner. The fabric softener endorsement leads to a protein bar endorsement for Burke, which is actually a pretty huge deal.

And she does it all without a trace of her old self.

There are no more rambling stories. No more teasing. No hint that she’s thinking about me the same way I’m trying not to think about her. She doesn’t sit in the stands at the games anymore—she stays out of sight.

And the little red heart on the end of my hockey stick has faded away.

It’s been weeks of this polite, reserved, professional version, and I hate it.

We spend more time together than ever, but we couldn’t be further apart.

When anything personal comes up, she shuts down. Gone are the stories of her family, gone are her thoughts on any subject, and gone are the connections I thought we’d made.

I want to ask her what changed—did I do something to upset her? Is there a reason she’s so stand-offish?

But I don’t.

I should be grateful. This is exactly what I said I wanted. No distractions. Eloise has cleared everything away to make sure I can focus solely on hockey.

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