Page 11 of The Lucky One
“I had those too,” I assure her. “Janna Koskinen stole my heart in year nine. I am over it now.”
She cackles. “What I wouldn’t give to see a photo of you in grade nine. Anyway, I mostly forgot about Stefano when I went off to college.”
“To study business,” I prompt.
She gives me a sideways glance. “Yeah, I can’t believe I told you that. Well, I probably also told you that it was a mistake. I hated the school, hated the classes, but I finally had a boyfriend. Too bad he turned out to be a controlling turd.”
“Hmm. What is a turd?” I never feel stupid asking Chiara a language question. She never judges me.
“Sorry. It's a word for shit.”
“Ah, well, if we're describing one of your exes as aturd, I think I like this new word.”
She smiles. “It took me way too long to leave him, and the school. But my Uncle Rico—you remember my uncle raised me?”
I put a hand on her arm, just casually. “I remember all the things you tell me, Chiara. He is your grandfather’s brother. Really a great-uncle.”
“Right. He stepped up after my mother died, and he didn’t have children of his own. I love him. I really do. Actually—tonight I’m mad at him…”
“What did he do?” I demand.
“We’re getting to that.” She waves a hand. “Anyway, I agreed to come back and work at the café. This was a few months before I met you. It made Uncle Rico happy, even if I felt like a loser for landing back here with my waitress apron on instead of conquering the world of business. My self esteem was not the greatest. I was in a weird place when suddenly Stefano wants to date me, after all those years of never noticing me.”
We stop for a light, and I take her arm. She holds on tight, her brown eyes flashing toward mine. “Are you sure you want to hear this?”
“Yes.” The light changes and I guide her across the street.
“Okay. So I’m dating Stefano. Honestly, at the beginning, it wasn’t even dating. He wanted hookups after work, and I knew I was just the most convenient girl in the room, but my inner high school girl was vindicated. I mean—what would you do if Janna Whatsername suddenly wanted a date?”
I laugh suddenly. “Maybe I would not recognize her anymore. She was really cute at fifteen though.”
“Well, that’s where my head was—age fifteen. So I dated Stefano, and it went on longer than even I expected. And then—at a big family party—he gets down on one knee and proposes to me.”
“And you say yes,” I prompt. We are almost to my apartment now, and the Christmas decorations are thick on every corner. But suddenly I'm not dreading Christmas like I was a few hours ago. I don't feel nearly as lonely, even if nothing much has changed. “Did you want to get married? And have children with him?”
“I was confused. I said yes because he asked me in a room full of people. But there were so many things wrong. I knew that he didn't want kids, and I do. And here I had this ring on my finger and I'm trying to figure out how to feel about it. Part of me knew it was all a bad idea. But another part of me wondered why I couldn't just be happy for once. It was good to be chosen, you know?”
“I do,” I admit.
“My Aunt Teresa had big thoughts about it. She kept saying Stefano knew that Uncle Rico would leave me his half of that restaurant when he died, and that he was playing a long con. But I didn't believe her. Who actually marries somebody just to shore up his inheritance?”
I wince. Because there are lots of assholes in the world. It is not so hard to picture.
“And then one night at work—when I thought Stefano was outside smoking during his shift—I stuck my head out there. And found him making out with someone I had never seen before. Turns out he had another girlfriend the whole time he was dating me. Aunt Teresa was right.”
“Oh, I am sorry.”
She shakes her head quickly. “No, it's a good thing. I was having trouble sorting out my feelings until I saw the two of them together. I broke up with him the next day, and then everything got easier. That was right before Thanksgiving. Of course, work is really awkward right now.”
We both laugh, and then I point to the elegant building ahead on Water Street. “This is it. I live here.” It's a hundred year old brick warehouse converted into luxury condos. “I rent my unit from the team captain.”
“Nice digs, Ivo. Wow.”
“I was lucky to get it.” Still, I feel a sense of pride as we climb the red-carpeted steps up to the door, which is swept open by the doorman.
“Evening, Mr. Halla. Good game tonight.”
“Thank you.” It’s funny, but I’d forgotten all about the game.
