Page 74 of My Lucky Charm

Raya rolls her eyes. “You two need to grow up.” She looks at her phone, and abruptly stands. “I have to go. I have a job interview today.”

I frown. “Wait, what?”

A new job? That’s unlike her. I look at Poppy, and she shrugs.

Raya picks up her purse and waves. “I’ll call you later, I promise. And please, El, use your head. Not your heart.” And with that, she walks out.

I look at Poppy. “Raya has been at the same job for ten years. And she hates change.”

She nods her agreement, and then turns to me. “Are you okay?”

“Of course,” I say.

“Because your heart is always on your sleeve, El,” Poppy says. “And if you like him—”

“I don’t,” I cut in. “Just caught up in the moment. From now on he’ll only get the professional version of me.” Whoever that is.

Poppy gives me a firm nod, but I can tell by the look on her face she’s being cautious with her optimism. “I have to get to the restaurant.”

“I have to get to the city.”

And I have to address what happened with Gray.

Like a grown-up.

Chapter Eighteen

Eloise

Just. Breathe.

In the elevator ride up to Gray’s apartment, I force my racing mind to slow down. I will my heart to stop beating like it’s keeping time with an advancing Roman legion.

Neither the forcing nor the willing are successful.

I have no idea what I’m stepping into. Is he going to pretend it didn’t happen? Is he going to be angry with me? Is he going to ask me to resign?

Maybe he’ll tell me he’s thought of nothing else since last night and desperately wants to start a relationship with me after all?

I’m scheduled to be here at 9 a.m. so we can go to his photoshoot together, but maybe I should’ve texted to remind him.

Or maybe I should’ve faked my own death. Will they put you in witness protection if you’re in danger of dying from utter humiliation?

When the elevator slows, I feel heat rush to my already flushed face. I’m going to exit this little metal box looking like a sweaty tomato.

I’ve had that kiss on mental repeat ever since my sisters left my apartment, my promise to them notwithstanding. It wasn’t just the kiss itself—it was the way he kissed me.

Like he meant it. Like he wanted it. Like he wanted me.

It made me want to be everything to him.

I try to shake the thoughts away. My sisters are right. This is what I do. I try to save everything and everyone, treat broken people like stray animals in need of a home.

And I’m usually the one who ends up hurt.

The doors separate, and I hesitantly step into the apartment and look around. At least he hasn’t gotten rid of the simple, homey touches I’ve added. That’s a good thing, right?

I start toward the kitchen when something stops me. A coat and purse on the end of the sofa.

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