Page 12 of The Lucky One

The waitress nodded and I turned back to Kiki, draining my coffee to cover the awkwardness. The waitress brought the bill and Kiki reached for her purse.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said, picking up the slip of paper. “It’s on me this time.”

Kiki raised an eyebrow and asked, “This time?”

“We just said we have a lot of catching up to do, remember?”

She smiled, a freaking cute smile. Despite the rocky end of the conversation I found that I did hope to do this again. Because for the first time in weeks, I hadn’t only thought about Emily and Jon. I wanted more of that.

A New Beginning

Emily

Jon’s poetry was a labyrinth of darkness, each word an enchantment down a cryptic path. His little black book was an invitation into his heart.

He had documented every facet of himself on the pages I’d read countless times. His struggles with his family and Kiki, his thoughts when he hurt someone to get what he wanted... His guilt over Paul’s accident. I had been shocked to learn that Jon had caused it. It helped me understand the twisted relationship between them.

I let the pages flip, stopping at an entry from the first day we met, one of my favorites.

She radiates.

A blinding glow shot through with shadow.

I divert my gaze, a necessity.

I have to, for those legs that tread lightly.

For those hands, whose touch ignites me. For those eyes...

So starry I go sightless.

I turn back to the dark.

I would only taint that brightness.

I let my fingers glide over the ink. The pen, it seemed, never lingered on the page for more than a fleeting instant, every letter hastily scribbled. Yet Jon’s words were so achingly sincere that they deepened my love for him. Even though I had to translate the ones that went beyond my vocabulary.

At least I had this book to hold on to. In rehab he had nothing. No words, no pictures—only fading memories of the moments we’d shared.

I closed the book and glanced around the playground, nuzzling my hands in the pockets of Jon’s sweatshirt. I was on a bench across from Tim’s house, whiling away the time until Jon’s return this afternoon. The snow had melted away and the first buds had bravely emerged from their branches. Spring was around the corner, promising a fresh start, a new beginning. But I couldn’t help but wonder, what if that new beginning didn’t include Jon?

Staying sober is a lifelong commitment. You can’t be naive and believe all the stories he told you.

You don’t know how Jon is doing or how he feels now that he’s sober.

He’s going to break your heart. You know that, right?

My whole body shivered. “What if they’re right?” I whispered into the cold breeze.

I grabbed my phone to call the only person who would listen to my doubts about Jon without using it against him.

“Mama?” I said as soon as the call connected.

“Emily!” a deeper voice said. “Wie schön! Wir haben so lange nicht mehr gesprochen.” How nice! It’s been forever since we spoke.

“Richard... hi.” My mom’s boyfriend. They’d been together basically ever since she left my father. Probably even before.

He switched to English. “Your mother isn’t here right now. But how are you? Your English must be perfect. I mean, it’s been months!”