Page 47 of The Lucky One
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I replied, walking past him without slowing down.
He straightened up and followed me. “Sure you don’t. But it’s all good.”
Irritation coursed through my veins. I came to a sudden stop. “I don’t need your approval. Whatever I do is my own business.”
“I didn’t say it wasn’t,” he said, walking in front of me and holding out an envelope. “Here.”
I accepted it. “What is this?”
“What you deserved in the first place.”
I glanced down at the envelope. My name was written in his usual hurried handwriting.
When I looked up again Jon had vanished, leaving me without a goodbye, an explanation or any further comment.
If I hadn’t been holding his letter right now, I would’ve thought I just spoke to a ghost.
Cheese Dilemmas
Emily
The front door burst open, yanking me out of a nap. I had passed out while writing in my little black book, exhausted from a strength training session.
It was Paul, bouncing through the door and whistling a tune I didn’t recognize. “What’s up, Emi?” he said.
I was instantly wide awake when I realized which page was open in my notebook. The one where I wrote about Jon fingering me in a walk-in fridge.
“You’re in a good mood,” I said, hastily closing the book and sitting up on the couch. “Where are you coming from?”
He plopped down next to me and rubbed the top of my head. “That’s a secret.”
“Now I want to know even more,” I complained, throwing a cushion at him. He caught it in midair and laughed. Another yawn crept up my throat, and I threw myself back onto the couch, defeated.
Paul took hold of my legs and pulled them onto his lap, letting me stretch out comfortably. He began rubbing my feet in their fluffy socks. “Thanks,” I mumbled, closing my eyes once again.
I didn’t flinch at physical contact with Paul anymore. Whatever we had right now seemed to work, feelings notwithstanding. It felt good. Not I-want-his-body-all-over-me good—I just enjoyed spending time with him, especially when he was in such a good mood.
“We should stop our late-night Grey marathons if they knock you out like this,” he said.
I opened my eyes to scowl at him. “But I love them!”
“Me too.” He winked. “So how’s Culinary going? Any new stories about Chef Sayle?”
Heat flushed my face as a vivid image came to mind. The spot between my legs throbbed, and I swiftly pulled my feet from his lap. “That’s a secret,” I said, throwing back his words.
Paul laughed heartily. “Fine by me! Did you finish with eggs?”
“Yep. We’ve moved on to pizza now.”
“Let me guess. No cheese on yours?” he teased, and the corners of my mouth lifted in appreciation. I loved how he remembered every little detail about me.
“Chef said I’d get an F if I serve him pizza without cheese,” I said.
“Can you blame him?”
“Oh, shut up!” I laughed out loud.
This was like the calm before the storm. Being so happy with Jon, yet surrounded by Paul’s light attentiveness... A part of me felt guilty. But I had written it all down for Jon to read.