The fire’s already been lit, and the flames coat his cheeks in a fine glow, caressing the curves of his mouth in a way I’ve always longed to.Leaving without him is already a wound I’ve been tending to.Must I push the knife deeper?What would telling him achieve?
“Mia?”
I turn away.“If we don’t leave now, we’ll be late.”
“Mia, stop.”
I wait, one hand on the door, but he says nothing else.Slowly, he comes close, until I can smell the soap he used to wash with.
“Forget I said anything,” I say and leave.
* * *
you were so close!
go to dinner(go to 62)
go back(go to 35)
We both laugh quietly.
“I don’t know what I expected to happen.”
“Magic,” he says, his voice kind.
I should put the crystal back, but something tells me to hold on to it.A good-luck charm or maybe a reminder to temper my expectations—who knows?
“Silly, right?”
He covers my hand with his.“Hope is never silly.”
Moira bags up my purchase with a twinkle in her eye.Oh gosh, she probably saw us kissing back there.
My blush holds firm as we make it back into the frigid afternoon air.
Lucky grabs my hand.“I’ve got an idea.”
* * *
“Um,” I say, looking up atThe Observer, “what are we doing here?”
“We’re going to get your job back.”
I stop in my tracks, and the man walking behind me grunts his frustration but passes by when Lucky glares at him.
“Monica will never go for it.”
“So, there’s nothing to lose.”He pulls me into the elevator.
If there’s one constant in the world, it’s that musicians are always trouble.Always.In the best and worst ways.
Or perhaps it’s because I’ve never been able to resist a man with a guitar.
Trust me, I know it’s an issue.I’m working on it.
At least, I’m trying to.
Which is how I know Lucky isbad, bad news.
