“Do you even work here? I thought I was meeting a manager or someone in maintenance today. The guy I talked to last week sounded way more professional than you. Daniel something? I got a text that saidDC Managementtoday. I saved the number as Townhouse Management Guy. Who was that?”
“DC—Daniel Crawford. The facilities manager,” Jace calls from the living room, walking toward my laptop on the coffee table. “Also known as my roommate, Danny. He had to deal with a broken window, so I saved the day. You’re welcome.”
“And I’m eternally grateful for your service, but DC is Daniel? That’s who texted me?” I ask over my shoulder as I inch my feet across the counter to the next cabinet.
“That’s Danny. You’ll like him, but I’m better-looking and a much better guitarist.”
The app refreshes, blasting Lynyrd Skynyrd from my laptop, when I smell something minty and sense movement behind me.
Someone speaks the very thought from my mind when I hear, “Shut up, Jace.”
That voice.
The heavy thump of a box dropping on the counter accompanied by a voice like salted caramel causes me to whip around—which is a dumb thing to do while standing on a countertop facing the inside of a cupboard.
My foot misses the edge, and I yelp when someone who’s clearly not Jace, my mother, or either of my sisters catches me around my legs and holds me against him the way one would hold a toddler up to see over a crowd.
I claw at a broad shoulder while my other hand still grips the cabinet door like my life depends on it when I meet his eyes, too jolted to speak. Although this may be the mostun-awkwardstaring-into-the-eyes-of-a-stranger ever.
Ohh, nowhere’ssome dark chocolate sea salt caramel. Swirled with … avocado? I guess they’re hazel. It’s a pretty combo, but it wouldn’t taste good at all.
I’m not sure how long I’ve been comparing his eyes to incompatible food concoctions before I notice his raised brows, and a hint of a grin travels from his eyes to his lips.
We both hear the irony of the music playing at the same time when he echoes the words of the song on a low chuckle, “What’s your name, little girl?”
I can’t help but laugh. His amusement is contagious.
“I’m Lucy.”
“Nice to meet you, Lucy. I’m Daniel.”
Jace’s voice breaks in, yelling over the music, “You didn’t have to jump in his arms, Cupcake. I would’ve introduced you.”
“Shut up, Jace,” Daniel and I call out in unison before his voice softens.
“You can let go. I got you.”
“Okay.”
Chapter 1
Lucy in the Sky
One Year Later
Iwant a hot pink jersey with Brooks #22 bedazzled on the back and “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds” queued up for my entrance song.
Maybe I’ll even add pearls for dramatic flair, but I’d rather pluck my eyeballs out with a fork than write another paper. I’m so sick of anything remotely related to “The Psychological Implications of Criminal Justice in the Media,”I could hurl. Of course, that would imply I’ve eaten today, and that’s a big hangry nope.
My legs cramp sitting cross-legged on the floor for the second hour. It could be the third. Who knows? I might finish if I could focus on my laptop instead of my problems …or that marbled green guitar pick sticking up out of the rug just beyond my reach.
Ugh. Brain. Please, stop.
The biggest distraction is the gnawing agitation that has taken up residence in the back of my mind, where I spend waytoo much time wishing the circumstances were different, that he were different, or that I could stop this cycle in my head of trying to make sense of the choices other people make. It’s like walking around with my sock bunched up and a rock in my shoe.
Nathan has a kid.
Well, it appears he’sgoingto have a kid.
