Page 148 of My Lucky Charm

I shake my head. “Nah, it’s okay. I’m tired. Spend time with Scarlett. I’ll get my car in the morning.”

“Will you be at the game tomorrow night?”

I scrunch my nose. “I think I’m going to take the night off, unless you need me.”

He shakes his head. “No, take the night. You deserve it.”

“Okay, but I’m just a text away, so let me know if anything comes up or they play the wrong introduction song or anything.” I turn my attention to Scarlett, who is standing beside him. “You’ll be back for the photo shoot, you sassy little model.”

She smiles, but her eyes are sad.

I kneel in front of her. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

She throws her arms around me and squeezes. “I’ll miss you.”

I hug her for a long moment, then pull back and find she’s crying again. They say insta-love isn’t a thing, but “they” have never met Scarlett.

Gray’s move and her mom’s new marriage are taking a toll on her, and she’s been holding it in this whole time. “I’m always here if you need to talk, okay?”

She sniffs, and then says loudly, “I’d text you, but I don’t have a phone.”

I press my lips together to stifle a smile as Gray makes a production of rolling his eyes.

“Well played,” I whisper so only she can hear me.

Scarlett leans closer. “Watch out for my dad, okay?”

“I promise I will.”

I stand back up, and I give her shoulders one final squeeze. They turn to go, and I note the knot lodged in the center of my throat.

I’m completely smitten. Gray really has something special in this little girl.

Before he pushes the door open, Gray glances over his shoulder, holding me hostage with a simple look. There’s so much left unsaid between us, and I get the sense I’m not the only one holding back.

Finally, he walks out, leaving me standing just inside the restaurant, an inexplicable loneliness washing over me.

“You’ve got it bad.” Poppy is standing next to me, and at the sound of her voice, I turn to her and burst into tears. It takes me off guard because these aren’t joyful or sentimental tears. They are tears of pure sadness. And for the first time, maybe ever, I’m not fine.

Poppy pulls me into a hug and ushers me back into the kitchen. I’m only partially aware of her motioning to her staff, and I assume she’s telling them to finish up for the evening because she has to mop her little sister up off the floor.

“I’m sorry,” I say, trying—failing—to get a hold of myself. “I just feel so sad for her. She doesn’t want to go back, he’s amazing with her, really, like a different person, and . . . blech, I’m such a mess.”

She leads me to the back of the kitchen where there’s a small table with two chairs. She plops me down in one of the seats, then walks over to the refrigerator and pulls out the ice cream.

“Is it cookies and cream?” The question is shaky, and it comes out louder than I mean for it to.

“Of course,” she says.

“Extra Oreos?”

She holds up a small Ziploc baggie of crushed Double Stuf Oreos, and I swipe my cheeks dry.

This is dumb. Why am I even crying? It’s not like I’m never going to see Scarlett again.

But even as the thought enters my head, I know this reaction is about a whole lot more than just Scarlett. This is years of unshed tears, years of giving and helping and caring and never asking for anything back. This is the reservoir of gathered wants and desires and hurt and disappointment all crashing to the surface like a tsunami, and I have absolutely no control.

Poppy dishes up the ice cream, then sprinkles both bowls with Oreo pieces and walks back over to the table.

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