Page 165 of My Lucky Charm

Both of Eloise’s sisters look surprised.

“So when you said you don’t date,” Poppy says, “You actually meant it?”

I shrug an affirmative reply.

After Celeste, I more or less stopped dating. My dad made a convincing argument that it was better this way. Proof that distractions are dangerous.

Sure, there were occasional attractions over the years, but nothing I’d ever put in the same orbit as the way I feel about Eloise.

And then, it hits me. “Wait. I have an idea. I know what to do.”

“Do you want to run it by us?” Poppy asks.

“No,” I say. “I’ve got this.”

I start for the door, and Burke calls after me— “What about the gala?”

I loosen my tie. “This is way more important.”

Eloise

I get an Uber and sob the entire way back to Loveland.

My poor driver isn’t sure what to do with me, but thankfully, he has a box of tissues, which he hands back to me without a word.

He might’ve seen this a time or two.

Once he drops me off, I stumble up the stairs to my little apartment, where I throw myself onto my bed and cry for a solid forty-five minutes.

This is especially annoying because I already watched ten minutes of the news this morning.

My phone buzzes and vibrates so much that I turn it off and chuck it across the room, which I realize could possibly backfire and lead to visitors, but I have to. I need some peace and quiet.

I’ve tried putting myself out there and it’s led to nothing but heartache. So, I pulled back, and that’s only led to heartache too.

I just want a guarantee that heartache doesn’t have to factor into the equation of my life, is that too much to ask?

I peel myself out of the sparkly black dress and leave it in a heap on the floor while I pull on the biggest, baggiest, most comfortable sweatshirt and sweatpants I own.

Only I realize the sweatshirt is Gray’s, so I have to toss it off and locate another one.

I take my hair down, shake it out, then put it in a loose bun on the top of my head. Next, I wash my face, then head straight to the freezer for ice cream therapy.

Once again, I’m jobless. Hopeless. And heartbroken.

I have no idea how to recover from this.

I’ve just covered my cookie dough ice cream with chocolate and caramel syrup when I hear footsteps in the stairway. I freeze. Of course, my sisters left the gala early to check on me. I would do the same for them.

Still, I’m not in the mood for company or a Hart to Hart to Hart. I can’t process any of this right now, and I definitely don’t want to think about all the ways I messed this up.

The knock at the door is forceful. Probably Raya. I could pretend not to be here, but that would only worry them more, so I draw in a breath, pad my way across my small apartment, and open the door.

But it’s not my sisters standing there.

It’s not anyone. It’s a mattress.

I blink.

---