“How else were you going to experience a little luck?” I ask. “Or get in touch with me?”
The corner of her mouth curves. “I wasn’t planning on getting in touch. And if I hadn’t texted, you would’ve missed out on millions. With that much money, you could, I don’t know, buy a DeLorean and go back in time or get yourself an Ecto-1 and bust ghosts.”
“Well, that would’ve been the biggest loss,” I say. “You not texting.”
This brings back the pink in her cheeks. It’s still just as cute as the day I first met her.
Wordlessly, she slides the ticket toward me. She picks up her menu, her eyes drifting over the offerings. “So, what’s good here? I’m thinking eggplant. These prices aren’t terrible, actually. The BBQ one looks good. A whole dollar more, though? Geez.”
I don’t move on as quickly. I lean closer to her, my forearms crossed on the table, the ticket still where she left it. A cool thirty million casually resting right there between us. “The other day, when you saidmoney like that just brings problems, can I ask what you meant?”
She blows out a breath and looks at me like,isn’t it obvious?“Besides people wanting something from you, lottery winners have historically had it rough. It typically doesn’t end well. Within three to five years, almost one-third of winners go bankrupt. They become targets. Winners struggle with anxiety, guilt, broken relationships, paranoia.”
“How do you know so much about it?”
“I looked into it after we—” She pauses. “It just sounds like a burden, is all.”
“Yeah. I’ve heard those stories, too,” I say. “Which is why I’m going to follow your lead. I don’t want the money either. Because I get it. Money can bring problems.” I tap the ticket. “I am glad this brought you back into my life, though.”
Hazel drops the menu onto the table. “Wait, hold on. How can you not want the money? You can’t turn down millions of dollars,” she says as though I’ve just told her I don’t believe in the moon.
Suze comes over to take our order. “Three pepperoni slices, as usual?” she asks, pre-empting my order. “Oh, milkshake machine’s down. Sorry.”
“Seriously?” I eye Hazel, whose chest rises and falls in perfect sync with Dean Martin’s “Ain’t That a Kick in the Head” pouring out of the speakers.
“It finally gave out,” Suze says with a shrug. She runs her hand through her silver hair. “Died making a mint cookies and cream.”
“May it rest in pieces,” I mumble.
“Two slices of eggplant, please,” Hazel tells Suze. “Is it possible to do half grapefruit, half orange juice?”
“Actually, yes!” Suze says. “We got a fresh box of grapefruits in a few minutes ago. Haven’t had any in all month.”
When Suze leaves, Hazel places two fingers on the ticket and slides it even closer to me. “Don’t reverse psychology me.”
“I wouldn’t dare. Look, this is how serious I am.” I lift the ticket and am about to rip it in half when Hazel huffs out, “Wait!”
A low whine-groan escapes her throat. “Logan,” she says, squeezing her eyes shut, “I actually… I need this money.”
“You want it? What about all the stuff you just said?” I ask. “You could’ve just led with that, you know.”
Her eyes blink open as she shakes her head. “No, I don’twantit. Ineedit,” she clarifies. “And I meant everything I said earlier.”
“Okay, well, if you want the money, it’s yours,” I tell her. “I promised you.”
“You don’t have to split it, of course. I don’t even need my entire half—”
“The entire half is yours.”
Somehow, Hazel looks more miserable.
“Thank you,” she says. “I owe you.”
“You don’t owe me anything. If you’re worried about people knowing you’ve come into a fortune, I may have an idea.” I hold a hand in front of my face. “Disguises.”
“Like… we wear masks?” she asks.
“It can’t be that obvious, but I work with the best wig and makeup people in show business. They might be able to help,” I offer. “Our names will still be out there, but I don’t know if we can get around that. New York requires people to disclose their identities.”
