My Lucky Days: A Novel (39 page)

T
he parking lot of the brand-new theater was completely full. I stared at the entrance, seeing the brick archway. I smiled. Colt must have built this place. I recognized his work. Over the last few years, he’d expanded into some smaller commercial buildings.

I needed to stop gawking and find a place to park. Turning to the right, I saw a row of cars in the grassy overflow next to the building. I pulled my old car into a spot. The Maxima still ran pretty decently—even with 187,000 miles on the dash. I was going for two hundred. Maybe then I would consider breaking up with her.

As I entered the building, I searched for a seat in the crowded auditorium. I saw Colt and Callie close to the front. A few seats were open in their row, but I really didn’t want to sit with them. I assumed Lucky was still keeping a low profile for now and wouldn’t come today. Who knows, maybe his lack of contact meant he wasn’t even in town.

“Katie?”

I turned, hearing my name. “Hannah? What are you doing here?”

“I put Linley in that hip-hop class to get some exercise. Well, I guess they have actual performances.”

“I thought she hated that class.”

“She does, so this should be interesting.” Hannah nodded, her bobbed hair moving around her chin. “So what are you doing here?”

“Well, I couldn’t say no to Colt’s daughter.”

“Oh, that’s right.” She glanced toward their seats in the front, and then back to me. “You want to sit here? Jake’s not going to make it.”

“Yes. Thank you.” Feeling relieved, I sat in the blue upholstered seat next to my friend. I didn’t want to make small talk with Lucky’s family.

But something else hit me even harder than just a conversation. Colleen Evans walked down the aisle with a little boy clutching her hand. He was maybe two or three. I had never asked Lucky his age.

But there he was.

The boy in the picture. Real and in person.

“Katie, you hear me?”

“Huh?” I looked back at Hannah.

“I said we need to finish painting those bowls before Jake’s mom comes into town to visit.”

“Yeah.” But I couldn’t concentrate as I watched Colleen lift Sam into his seat. And then he turned and smiled at her. His eyes got big while asking her a question. And then it happened. His lips turned up a little bit more on the right side as he fell into a fit of giggles. “I’ll um . . . I’ll be right back.”

I jumped out of my seat, darting toward the auditorium exit. Seeing Sam wasn’t helping any of the silent turmoil that kept battling around inside of me. My heart was racing as I made my way down the hall toward the bathrooms.

Before I reached the door, a hand grabbed my arm. “Where are you going?”

I looked up, feeling the shock of seeing him again. “Lucky.”

“Yeah?” His eyes searched mine, but his hand never let go of my arm. “Come on.”

I found myself being pulled farther down the hall. The place still smelled of fresh paint. As we rounded the corner, I saw several more doors. He pushed the first one open and pulled me inside. The floor sparkled with bits of sequins and discarded pieces of can-can tulle.

Lucky finally released my arm and I took a step backward as we stared at each other. This time was different seeing him. My mind had spent days twisting my fears into irrational thoughts.

“Hey.” He smiled. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Mia asked. I couldn’t say no to her.”

“Same here.” He nodded. “And I haven’t seen her dance in years. She was excited I could come, which makes me feel like an ass.”

I fidgeted in my heels, which needed to stop before I broke my ankle. “We should go back out there. The show’s about to start.”

His eyes flickered over my flowy pink dress. “You look pretty today.”

“Don’t,” I whispered.

“Don’t what?” He grinned, taking a step toward me.

I took a step back. “Don’t do that.”

“You’re scared. I get it. I thought giving you some space would help, but I guess it didn’t. So now I’m going to try the opposite of that. No space.”

He moved forward again, and I moved back another step, getting my heel stuck in a wad of tulle. Bending over, I tried to pull it free and he tried to help. “Stop! You are driving me crazy.”

“You know, yelling at me just makes me want to kiss you.”

“Don’t start that today.” Yanking the pink tulle off my shoe, I tried to throw it at him. But something as light as a tissue didn’t travel very far or hit very hard.

He just laughed, taking another step into my personal space. But I couldn’t move back any more. My back had reached the wall. I glared at him. “You are not kissing me.”

“But I want to kiss you.” He leaned in a little closer. I felt his breath touching me as he grinned. “Come on, Katie. Let me kiss you.”

I was afraid to speak. If I moved my lips, they might touch his. So I shook my head no, which caused my nose to brush against his nose.

I looked into his eyes as his mouth hovered. I could almost taste him in the air between us. I wanted to resist. But I couldn’t. Not when I felt the touch of his lips.

And then we were kissing.

My eyes closed, sending me into the beautiful darkness as the clock spun quickly backward, melting the years away. Lucky pressed me against the wall with his hips. His fingers got tangled up in my hair. My body was different now, about twenty pounds different. And I wondered if Lucky noticed.

He kissed me deep with tongues and gasps for air. Little sparks were firing in my stomach. I remembered this. I remembered the way his kisses were so consuming. My head fell back against the wall, giving him access to my neck. He owned my thoughts as my body responded to the feel of his mouth.

It felt good. It felt better than good. It felt like home.

A film reel of our kisses flickered through my mind, letting in the past, letting in the light. Sweet kisses and hard kisses and the ones that were not even on my lips.

I remembered those explicitly as he unbuttoned the front of my dress. His mouth found its way to my breast. He kissed the soft flesh around the top, running his tongue along the lace edge. My body knew what was coming next—as if a day had never passed since the last time we had done this together.

“You can’t be doing that in here!” A man’s voice brought everything into perspective.

Dance performance.

Community theater.

Public theater.

Lucky pulled my dress together and looked over his shoulder. “Sorry, man. We just got a little carried away. You know how it is when you haven’t seen each other in a while.”

“There’s children here. The parents will shut us down. Sorry, but I gotta kick you out of the theater.”

“Look, it’s my niece’s recital. Please. We will behave. I promise.”

The guy came a little closer and looked surprised. “Lucky?”

And then the two old friends were laughing and shaking hands as I discreetly buttoned my dress back up. “Hey, Katie, this is Chris Price. We graduated high school together. Actually, he was my lab partner in biology.”

I knew my cheeks were still bright red. “Nice to meet you, Chris.”

“You too, Katie. Well, I better get back in there. The show is about to start. It was nice to see you again, Lucky. And if y’all promise not to get my wife banned from using the community theater, I won’t kick you out.”

He laughed. “Sure thing.”

Lucky and I followed him out the door. As we walked down the hallway, they started talking again. “So you come back and visit very often, Lucky?”

“Not a lot in the past, but I’m in the process of moving back right now.”

“Really? You should give me a call sometime.” Chris reached in his wallet, pulling out an insurance agency business card and handed it to Lucky. “Maybe we can grab a beer and catch up.”

“I will.” He tucked it down in his jeans pocket. He leaned over and whispered in my ear, “See, it can be normal here.”

I elbowed him in the ribs, and he laughed. “So, Chris, you got married? Anyone I know?”

“Yeah, about four years ago to Willa Carter. She didn’t go to school with us. We’ve got a three-year-old daughter too.”

“Really?” Lucky nodded as his radiant smile lit up his brown eyes. “My son Sam is three.”

It sounded so strange to hear him say it out loud. To say it with such pride in his voice. Glancing over at Chris, I saw the surprise on his face. “Wow. I didn’t know you had a kid.”

“Yeah, it’s a recent thing.”

It didn’t seem to faze his high school friend. “Well, maybe instead of that beer we should get the kids together. I’ll talk Willa into a cookout or something.”

“Sounds good. Maybe I can talk Katie into coming too.”

I looked back and forth between them. What just happened? Suddenly, we were going to a cookout together—as a family. I gave him a quick
have-you-lost-your-mind
glare. But Lucky just winked at me.

We arrived back at the auditorium entrance and I went inside with Lucky just a step behind me. As I reached the row with Hannah, I slipped into my seat to get away from him.

“I’ll talk to you later.” He leaned down next to my ear and whispered as his lips grazed my neck. “Or not talk.”

My skin turned warm as he disappeared down the aisle to the row with his family. He sat in the open seat next to his mother.

I turned my attention to the stage as a tall brunette walked toward the center with a microphone. “Thank y’all for coming out this afternoon. I’m Willa Price, owner and instructor of the dance academy. Over the last three months, these kids have worked really hard. I am so incredibly proud of them. I know some of my dancers are nervous today. It’s their first performance. Let’s send them a little encouragement.” She clapped next to the microphone as the audience joined in with her.

A group of girls in purple fluffy skirts and black top hats filled the stage. As the students moved into their positions, Hannah leaned over and whispered, “So is he still a good kisser?”

“What?” I hissed.

“You got a little lipstick right there.” She pointed to the right side of my mouth.

“Shit.” I wiped with my thumb, realizing I had stood there talking to his friend with it on my face. “He could have at least said something.”

“I have a feeling that was the point.” She smirked.

The music came from the speakers, but I couldn’t look away from the people sitting five rows in front of me. Lucky was next to Colleen. Sam reached for him, crawling into his lap. He rested his head against his chest.

They were already so natural together. A child who was dependent on this man, who was not his father, but gave of himself like one.

“I think it’s time for us to have that wine,” I whispered. I loved Peyton dearly, but she couldn’t help me with this problem. I needed someone who understood the complexity of what Lucky was asking of me.

She smiled. “I’m free after this. Maybe we can get those bowls done too.”

T
he air blew through the screened-in patio that overlooked Hannah’s immaculate backyard. I placed the brush against the dried clay, making a red stripe, trying to match the other bowls. It appeared straight and perfect. But deep down, I knew there was no such thing as perfection. People yearned for perfect houses and perfect families. Perfect lawns. Perfect faces.

Like my mother.

Two years ago, I made the trip to California to see my parents. Her eyebrows were stretched so far up her forehead, I spent the whole weekend thinking she was asking me a question. Yet, I’m sure my mother thought she was perfectly beautiful.

And I watched people like Hannah. She was about seven years older than me, established in life with a genuinely nice and successful husband. They had two adorable kids. She even had an actual white picket fence. To me, they were perfect. No drama or heartache. But deep down, I knew she didn’t have a perfect life.

No one really did.

Perfection was just an illusion built up in a person’s mind. Just another form of self-inflicted torture, making all the broken pieces hurt even worse.

But even knowing the truth didn’t stop my own idea of perfect from ruining my life.

As a kid, I remember sitting in house after house, city after city, imagining a different life for myself where I had control over my circumstances. I had created an impossible illusion.

I watched the wine flowing into my glass, stopping dangerously close to the top. Hannah put the bottle back down. “I have to say, I would have never guessed the great love of your life was Landon Evans.”

“I didn’t say that he was the love of my life.” I took a sip from the top without picking it up.

“You didn’t have to.”

“We weren’t even together that long. It wasn’t even a year.”

“Length of time doesn’t really matter.” She sat back down, picking up her brush. The bowls were a present for her mother-in-law. We had done a set for Hannah’s mom last year.

“It has to matter. The more time you spend together, the more epic the love. ”

“That’s not true.” She pursed her lips deep in thought. “You know, there’s so many stories of men going off to war and meeting the love of their life just days before leaving. And that love keeps them alive. We are talking just hours of love that keeps them going for months, even years.”