Lucky: A Love Lane Short (5 page)

I know it’s silly, but I
find so much comfort in coming to the cemetery to talk with her. I
can feel her presence here and know she is listening.

“
Remember that girl at work
I told you about, Kate? She broke up with her boyfriend, and I feel
so guilty about how happy that makes me feel. She’s leaving the
apartment they shared and will be moving to Love Lane. I gave her
the grand tour yesterday, and she loved DeVito’s pizza.” I chuckle,
thinking back to how adorably goofy Kate was while preaching about
her love of pizza.

“
I’ve wanted her for so
long, and after spending the day with her, I want her even more.” I
go on to tell Mom all about the conversation I overheard between
Mindy and Kate, the one where Kate said I wasn’t her type, leaving
out the part about my ‘package’ of course.

“
I could sense from her
yesterday—from the way she smiled to the way she held my hand—that
she feels it, too. I am her type. We fit together perfectly, but
I’m also scared. She was with her boyfriend for a long time, and I
don’t want to be just a rebound. I want to be her
forever.”

Chapter Six

The week has continued to
fly by in a whirlwind of work, followed by packing box after box
and taking each spare moment I can get on the phone, talking with
Henry. We found that we have a great deal in common, which helps
our conversations flow easy. Hours pass with ease as we talk about
everything from the most mundane, like what we ate for dinner that
night, to our mutual obsession with
The
Walking Dead
. The more serious topic of
Henry’s mother—her cancer, the continuous care, and the anger and
despair it caused Henry—is also spoken about frequently.

I think finally talking
about her again after months of mourning has been therapeutic for
him. Conversations that once left Henry withdrawn are now often
accompanied with laughs from fond childhood memories which are then
quickly followed by a few of my own that almost always revolve
around one of my sisters doing something that thoroughly
embarrassed me.

Henry has also made it very
clear during more than one conversation that he will be helping me
move this weekend. “That’s what friends do for each other, Kate, so
don’t even think about saying no. You know I’m good for all that
heavy lifting.”

“
What makes you think I
would say no? I have the heaviest boxes already marked with your
name,” I joke while contemplating that word: friends. It causes
such a mix of emotions inside me. I am genuinely happy that Henry
and I have become friends, but a part of me—a part that seems to be
growing each day—wants more than friendship.

I want to wrap my arms
around him in support when he talks about his mother. I want to
press my lips against his whenever he smiles with that damn sexy
smirk. More than anything, late at night, when we would normally be
on the phone talking or texting, I want instead to be lying right
beside him, our bodies flush together, expressing words of
passion.

“
It’s settled, then. I’ll
meet you in front of your new building Saturday at eight a.m. how
does that sound?”

“
That sounds perfect,
Henry. I really do appreciate the help.”

“
Anything for you,
Kate.”

Chapter Seven

I was beyond restless last
night, flipping the covers on and off, rolling from side to side
and looking over at my clock more times I could count. I even
attempted to read a few chapters in my book, but was too distracted
with my own thoughts to concentrate on anything. My excitement over
the move is practically infectious. Hell, even Braydon woke up with
a smile on his face, something I haven’t seen in my presence in
weeks, maybe even months. Then again, it may just be that he is
finally going to be rid of me today.

Getting a head start
yesterday, my parents and a few of my sisters and their spouses
came over to help load my belongings into the moving van. They
offered to help today, as well, and get me settled into the new
apartment, but to be honest, I want this to be something that is
just Henry and I. I crave time alone with him, anything to have him
to myself for a few hours, even if it involves moving
boxes.

Hopping into the van, I give
the key a twist and listen as the engine turns over. The voice of
Billie Joe Armstrong from Greenday starts quietly coming from the
radio, singing ironically about turning points and forks stuck in
the road.

Taking one last look out the
window at my old life, I see Braydon standing on the sidewalk. He
looks happy and I remind myself that my new beginning also means a
new beginning for him. I truly hope things work out for
him.

Last night, after my family
left and the van was all packed, I was finally able to climb in to
bed, my sore muscles sighing in relief. I was surprised when a soft
knock came to the bedroom door, followed by Braydon peeking his
head inside.

“
Got a minute?”

“
Absolutely. Come on in,” I
responded quickly as Braydon came to the end of what used to be our
shared bed and hesitantly sat down.

“
Listen, Kate, I know the
past few days—hell, the past few months—have been rough on both of
us, but I just wanted to let you know that I truly am sorry things
didn’t work out between us. You’re a great person, and although I
may not have loved you like I should have, I do care a great deal
about you. I think we both realized a long time ago that this”—he
waved a finger between us—“was never going to work.”

“
I know, Braydon, and there
is no need to apologize. Yes, the last few months have been tough,
and the last few days have been awkward to say the least, but I do
wish you all the best with Candy. Thank you for everything over the
last few years. You’re a good man, and don’t forget
that.”

With that, Braydon stood
with a look of resolution on his face and then gave me a quick
goodnight before walking out.

Now, as I stare at him
through the van’s window with my heart full of hope for the future,
I give a wave of understanding then pull from the curb.

***

After pulling up in front of
the apartment building on Love Lane, I park, thanking the gods that
there was a spot right in front. Now standing on the sidewalk, I
take a few minutes for myself. Last night’s conversation with
Braydon provided the perfect closure on our relationship, and now
I’m ready, after a self-appointed pep talk, to move on and start
over without guilt or regret.

Hearing the soft of strum of
feet, I turn to see Henry walking up the sidewalk. He has a huge
smile on his face this morning, and he’s wearing a pair of faded
jeans that hang low on his hips along with a plain white tee and
black Chuck Taylors. All I want to do is jump into his
arms.

It hits me then that, while
Love Lane is the location of my new physical address, it is Henry
that is making it feel like home.

Stopping next to me, Henry
looks into my eyes without a good morning or hello but with a
knowing look.

“
Ready?” That one word is
so significant and telling.

“
Yep.”

Grabbing my hand in his, my
heart feeling lighter than it has in a long time, I know I made the
right decision.

Walking up the brick steps,
Henry motions for me to hand over the keys I picked up from the
landlord only days ago. With a turn of the lock, the door opens
easily, and Henry steps aside to let me enter first.

How is it that this man
knows exactly what to do to make this all okay? By taking the lead
on such a simple task as unlocking and opening a door, he is giving
me the strength and encouragement to be brave in this new chapter
of my life.

Smiling my appreciation, we
walk inside.

Surrounded by white subway
tiles on the floor; a rich, dark wooden staircase to the right; and
ornate wall scones surrounding us, it is like taking a step back in
time. Seeing the shining silver mailboxes to my left—one with my
name, Winters 2B—I am finally let out of my head and focused on the
here and now.

“
Good morning,” an
unfamiliar voice says from my right. “You must be our newest
tenant.”

Looking over, I take in the
beautiful blonde who looks to be in her late twenties, with long,
straight hair pulled into a high ponytail.

“
Hi, yes. I’m Kate, and
this is my friend Henry,” I say with a thumb pointing over my
shoulder.

“
Well, welcome, Kate,” she
says as she gives a curt nod of hello to Henry. “I’m Danielle, but
you can call me Dani. I am actually your new neighbor in 2A. I’m
heading out for a run, but feel free to stop over anytime. I have
some great wine, and I’ll give you the rundown of everyone in the
building.” With a wink, she departs, leaving Henry and I alone in
the entryway.

“
She seems like a nice
neighbor,” Henry says.

“
Yeah, she
does.”

“
Okay, stop stalling,”
Henry responds, “and let’s get this day going; otherwise, we will
be moving your shit well into the night, and I’d rather take you
out later to celebrate.”

Chapter Eight

Standing in my apartment
with Henry at my side feels surreal. It is a small space, but with
the natural light coming in from the large living room windows
straight ahead, it feels much larger than it really is. A modest
kitchen with updated appliances, cream tile floor, and a single run
of faux granite countertop is to my left. On my right is the
doorway leading to my bedroom, which without furniture is basically
a square box with white walls and a wooden floor. The closet sadly
is only large enough to hold just my dresses and shoes. The rest of
my clothes will have to go in my dresser drawers. Just beyond my
bedroom is the bathroom.

That is the room I am most
excited for with its original claw-foot bathtub. I have been
daydreaming about taking a soak ever since I signed the lease. In
my dreams, Henry may have even made an appearance in the tub with
me a few times, just sayin’. My plan is to crack open some wine and
simply lay back in the cool water once everything is moved
in.

“
Nice,” comes from Henry.
“Where should we start?”

“
I packed the van according
to each room to make things easier, so the first boxes are for the
kitchen.”

Hopefully, between the two
of us, moving everything in won’t take too long. I really don’t
have that many belongings and the larger furniture, like couches,
my bed—yes, I will be sleeping on the floor for two nights—tables,
etc., are being delivered Monday from the furniture store. My first
order of business, though, is to set up a docking station for my
cell phone. There’s nothing like listening to music to make moving
all these boxes seem less daunting.

As the morning turns into
late afternoon, Henry and I make good progress getting everything
into my apartment. I continue to find myself enjoying his company
immensely. Between walking back and forth up the two flights of
stairs with boxes, we have talked about everything from the
projects we have going on at work to making mental lists of items I
clearly didn’t think to bring, like a bottle opener. Pizza and beer
go hand in hand
with moving, right? So,
how could I have forgotten the one kitchen utensil needed to open
the beer?

Thank goodness Henry thought
ahead and has a small one on the end of the utility tool he
brought, thinking he may need to tighten a loose screw or
something. With a few small water breaks to help cool us down from
the heat, we make pretty quick work of it, considering it is just
the two of us.

“
I think it’s time for a
food break,” Henry says as he sets a box down on the bathroom
counter.

“
I think you’re right,” I
respond while wiping sweat from my brow. Whoever’s idea it was to
move in the oppressive July heat is an ass, and I want to punch
them square in the balls. Oh, wait, that was me. Damn. “How about I
order a pizza to go with the beer I have in the fridge?” I didn’t
bring much food with me, as I plan to go grocery shopping tomorrow,
but I did make sure to have the essentials: beer, wine, and
Pepperidge Farm Goldfish Crackers.

“
Sounds good to me. I am
just going to hang in here and freshen up if you don’t
mind.”

“
Not at all. I’m going to
do the same just as soon as I get the food ordered. There are fresh
towels right over there.” I point to the cabinet above the toilet
as I begin to walk out of the room to give Henry some privacy.
“Help yourself.”

***

“
Mmmmmm,” purrs deep from
Henry’s throat as he takes a huge bite of his pizza and chews.
“This is so good. I was starving.”

Taking a much smaller bite
of my own slice as we sit on a carpet made of blankets in the
living room, I just stare at Henry. I never thought watching a man
eat could be so incredibly sexy, and such a huge turn on, but with
Henry, it is. His eyes close with each bite as he revels in the
taste, his lips pink and moist, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and
down with each swallow. The soft murmurs of pleasure coming from
his throat cause an erratic beating in my chest. I want him to
taste and savor me exactly as he is doing with that
pizza.