Page 85 of The Lucky One
Me: Where are you? I don’t want to make them wait
Arschloch: Something came up. Can you meet me there?
I sighed, considering my options. Gena and Henry were snuggled up on the couch, engrossed in a movie, and I didn’t want to interrupt them. As for Paul, I had no idea where he was. We hadn’t spoken much since our fight by the lake. We were both angry with one another, just for different reasons. But I didn’t have time to overthink that right now.
“The bus it is,” I told myself. At least Jon had explained how the bus system worked around here.
Waiting around for the bus, it turned a bit chilly, and I regretted not bringing a jacket. When a bus finally pulled up I got on it, unsure if it was the right one. Jon better have a good reason for running late. I didn’t even want to go anyway, and here I was all dressed up in a near-empty bus with an old lady looking at me like I was a pitiful little thing.
Despite my terrible sense of direction, I managed to reach Jon’s mother’s house by a quarter past seven. She opened the door with a big smile. “Emily, how nice to see you,” she said, scanning me up and down, and I performed an awkward curtsy. “Oh, you look wonderful.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Denson.”
“I go by Mrs. Duckles now.”
“Oh, right, I’m so sorry, Mrs. Duckles.” I couldn’t believe I forgot she took on Humphrey’s last name.
“It’s all right. Now, where’s Jon?” She peered over my shoulder as if expecting him to magically appear.
“He’s not here?” I asked, regretting not texting him before ringing the doorbell.
Her smile dimmed. I knew exactly what was going on in her head because, despite my endless trust in Jon, I knew that addiction clouded his.
The chair beside me was still empty. The grandeur of the dining room only mocked my discomfort. I wasn’t used to crystal glasses and three different types of forks. I hadn’t dared take a sip from my glass yet. What if I accidentally dropped it?
“Mom,” said Lauren to my left, maybe we should—”
“No, we’ll wait. If Emily’s here, he’ll be here too.” Mrs. Duckles folded her hands across from me, her gaze fixed on an ornate wooden clock. It was eight now. I sank lower in my seat and pulled out my phone.
Me: Jon, where are you? I’m at your mom’s place and I’m running out of small talk!
Humphrey cleared his throat behind his napkin. “Emily.”
I shoved my phone back into my little bag. He hadn’t said anything to me except for hello since my arrival. “Yes?”
“It’s been a few months since we’ve seen each other. How is everything going for you?”
It wasn’t his words but the judgmental look he gave me. I knew exactly what he was getting at: I wasn’t good enough. The resemblance to Richard made my toes curl.
“I’ve been very good, thanks for asking.”
“Excellent. Are you planning to stay—”
“Jon!” Lauren squealed, jumping up from her chair and running into Jon’s arms, who stood in the doorframe. My chest relaxed. I loved seeing how happy she was whenever she laid eyes on her big brother.
But then I noticed his eyes—they looked exhausted, haunted, almost. His leather jacket hung off his shoulders. He hadn’t even dressed nicely.
“Sorry for being late,” he mumbled to his mother and Humphrey as he sat down in the chair next to me. “Really sorry,” he whispered in my ear before placing a kiss on my cheek. I looked away quickly as his smoky breath hit my skin.
“Why were you running late?” his mother asked.
“Tim lost the car keys. We found them under the couch cushion, but it took a while.” Jon shrugged. He had his poker face on, the one even I struggled to read.
“Sounds like Tim,” Humphrey said. Jon shot Humphrey his first glare of the night as he grabbed my hand under the table and squeezed it tightly.
“I’m hungry! Don’t we have salmon waiting for us?” Lauren said, trying to lighten the mood. Heck, it had only been a few seconds with Jon present and it was already worse than I could’ve imagined.
Most of the dinner happened in utter silence. I broke it a few times, talking about school, Jon taking Culinary, how we cut up whole chickens in preparation for our final grade. “What about the vegetarians?” his mother asked, and I stopped trying to make any further conversation.