Page 95 of Lucky
“I’m not mad about it.It’s not like I told you to keep it secret.”
“Keep what secret?”Tempe and Mila ask at the same time.
Farren answers for me.“Two bitches accosted her in the bathroom last night.”
Tempe’s eyes widen.“Why?”
“Because of TikTok,” I explain.
Tempe shakes her head.“Still don’t understand.”
I stare at her, disbelieving she’s not aware of the splash that Lucky and I are making on social media.But then I realize… not everyone cares about that stuff.
“You know Lucky and I met through TikTok?”I start by asking her.
She nods.“Yeah… Rafferty showed it to me.Very cute.”
“Well, we’ve posted additional content about our dates, and… the feedback has been… mixed.”
“Mixed?”Tempe asks, a line creasing her forehead.
“Some people love it, and others… not so much.”
Farren interjects.“There are a ton of mean comments out there fueled by jealousy and just downright bitchiness.I mean… there are some real assholes in the world, and two of them went after Winnie in the bathroom.”
“It was nothing,” I say, trying to blow it off but the quavering in my voice betrays me.
All four women go quiet in a soft, subtle shift of attention.
I swallow my weakness, take a sip of my latte and lift my chin.“Anyway, Lucky called this morning because he was worried about it after North mentioned it.I told him I was fine—”
“Bullshit,” Farren coughs into her hand.
I pause, then admit, “Fine… it gets to me, but that’s the price you pay for being in the public eye.”
“How many times have you actually said that…It’s the price you pay for being in the public eye?” Farren tosses back at me.
More than I care to admit.
“Maybe it’s the price to pay,” Mila says gently, her hand squeezing my shoulder.“But it doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck.I’m sorry people are so rotten.”
“I hate fucking bullies,” Farren mutters.“I really wanted to kick those women’s asses last night.My brother and boyfriend are professional hockey players.I know a little something about brawling.”
That makes me laugh and a tiny part of me wishes Farren had kicked their asses.
“You’re handling it with more grace than I would’ve,” Willa says.
I smile, but it’s tight.I feel it.That coil of discomfort sitting low in my belly.
“It’s not even what they said,” I murmur, tracing the rim of my mug.“It’s that… I kind of believed the comments.That I’m not the type of woman someone like Lucky Branson ends up with.”
Mila sets her drink down.“Why would you think that?”
I glance around the table at these beautiful women, suddenly self-conscious.“When I first googled Lucky—don’t judge me—it was just… I found woman after woman.Gorgeous.Model-level beautiful.And then there’s me, with my teacher cardigans and outdated name and a judgmental rabbit.”
Willa laughs gently.“Buttermilk is a vibe, not a flaw.”
“But it’s hard not to feel like I’m in over my head,” I say quietly.“He’s on billboards.People scream his name in arenas.But I’m not that and—”
