“Believe me,” I tease him, “I’ve tried.”
When he bumps me with his elbow, my heart gives a little hiccup. I shove him right back and he sidesteps away from me, laughing. It all feels so normal between us, like the kiss was some sort of distant dream, and I’m not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed by this.
Once we’re ready, and the plastic-clad ticket is zipped securely into my bag, Teddy reaches for the doorknob. But just before opening it, he pauses and turns back to face me. His mouth is twisted up to one side, like he’s trying to hold back a smile.
“Hey, Al?”
“Yeah?”
“We just won the freaking lottery,” he says, his voice filled with awe, and I laugh, because it’s ridiculous and incredible and true. Somehow I picked not just one or two or even three of the numbers, but all of them. The odds of that happening have to be astronomical. Yet here we are.
Teddy’s watching me, his eyes shining, and I grin back at him.
“Youjust won the freaking lottery.”
He puts a hand on the doorknob then lets it slip off. “Al?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks,” he says, turning to fold me into a hug, and there’s something about it—the wonder in his voice or the thud of his heartbeat through his jacket or the way his chin rests against the top of my head—that causes a lump to rise in my throat.
Outside, the sun is bright against the hard-packed snow, the world blinding and full of glitter. The sidewalks aren’t plowed yet, but a set of deep footprints forms a path up the street toward the Lantern, our favorite diner, and I walk ahead of Teddy, one mittened hand clutching the strap of my bag.
As we make our way through the snow I look around, trying to decide if the world seems different this morning. There are people shoveling their walks, and kids running by with plastic sleds, and dogs bounding through the mountainlike drifts made by the plows. It’s the first day of February, the morning after a snowstorm, a Saturday in Chicago like any other.
Except for the ticket that’s burning like a coal deep in the pocket of my bag.
Behind me I can hear the crunch of Teddy’s boots and the ragged sound of his breathing. “Next time,” he says, “we’ll be able to take a cab.”
“It’s only three blocks,” I say, but he’s right, of course. Next time we won’t have to trudge through the snow or wait outside in the icy wind for a bus. From now on we can afford to take a taxi. Or at least Teddy can.
I know how silly it is to feel a pang of loss over this. For starters, rich people probably don’t even take cabs; they probably skip right to limos or maybe even helicopters. But even though a taxi is a pretty pitiful excuse for a lottery fantasy, it’s always been a luxury for us, the kind of thing we dream about on days like this.
And it’s the first small sign that things will soon be different.
As we near the Lantern, I can see Leo sitting at our favorite table by the window, his head bent over a menu. When Teddy pushes open the glass door, a familiar bell rings out and we’re greeted by a burst of warmth and the sweet smell of waffles.
Together we walk toward the table, and when we’re both standing over it Leo lowers his menu, squinting up at us through an old pair of glasses.
“This better be good,” he says, and Teddy smiles.
Once the whole story comes out, Leo simply stares at us.
“Why in theworld,” he says finally, “are you tellingme?”
Teddy blinks at him in confusion. “Uh, ’cause you’re my best friend, and I just figured—”
“No,” Leo says, lowering his voice like a shifty character from a heist movie. “I mean, why aren’t you talking to a lawyer or something right now?”
“Oh,” Teddy says. “Because I figured you’d know what to do.”
After that Leo doesn’t even let us order. Instead he marches us straight out of the diner.
“Sorry,” Teddy calls to the baffled waitress as we abandon our table. “I promise I’ll leave a really big tip nexttime.”
She just rolls her eyes, which is fair enough, considering he usually leaves her a pile of lint-covered coins. But it makes him laugh all the same.
Back at the apartment we kick off our boots and shed our coats, then sit three in a row on the couch, staring at the plastic bag with the ticket while we wait for Teddy’s mom and Leo’s parents—whom they called on the snowy walk back from the diner—to come over and take charge. Katherine McAvoy was just finishing up her extra shift at the hospital, and Aunt Sofia and Uncle Jake promised to be there as soon as they dug out the car. None of them have a clue why they’re being summoned, since Teddy is determined to deliver the news in person.
