Page 295 of Wild Card 13

CHAPTER 37

BUZZ

NOW

By the time dinner started, I had almost convinced myself I was acting normal.

Normal was a stretch considering I was still damp in places no man should have to be damp during a rehearsal dinner. My dress shirt had dried in wrinkled patches, one sleeve was still clinging to my forearm, and there was a streak of something across my cuff that I was choosing to believe was melted ice and not cat-sculpture trauma.

The whole North Line mezzanine looked like controlled chaos wearing candles.

Lucy sat two tables away from me in a pair of gray North Line sweatpants rolled twice at the waist and a fitted black tank top beneath an oversized zip-up hoodie that looked like it belonged to Arlo.

Her hair was half-dry, half-wild, curls refusing every rule she had probably forced on them earlier. The emerald frames of her glasses caught candlelight when she turned her head. Her cheeks were still pink from the cold and the adrenaline and the laughter.

She was smiling with her whole face while Arlo leaned over the back of her chair, hands braced on either side of her, saying something that made her shove at his arm.

I missed watching Lucy Thomas be fully herself.

The girl who used to turn a grocery store run into an adventure. The girl who once made me pull over on the side of the road because the sunset was “being dramatic and deserved witnesses.” The girl who could get furious about a problem, solve it anyway, and then laugh so hard afterward that everyone around her forgot they were supposed to be stressed.

For years, I had missed being loved by her.

Tonight, I realized I had also missed the privilege of seeing her unguarded.

“Burns.”

I blinked.

Alois was looking at me from the head of the table. So was half the room.

“Yeah?” I said.

Alois’s mouth curved. “I asked if you were well.”

“I’m great.”

“You have been staring at the potatoes for a full minute.”

Bobby leaned around Oliver. “To be fair, they are very compelling potatoes.”

“They have depth,” Arlo added from behind Lucy.

Lucy pressed her lips together, but her shoulders shook. She glanced at me across the room. Her eyes met mine, bright behind her glasses, and for one second the whole room thinned around us.

Betsy.

Her soaked dress.

My hand at her waist.

Lucy looked down at her plate, smiling to herself.

My chest tightened.

Careful, I reminded myself.

Hope was a dangerous thing when it had her face.