“Like you wouldn’t believe.” Her shoulders come up with the corners of her mouth, like her whole body’s smiling. “Since moving to the city, I haven’t been able to swim. I feel like a yearlong trip would have to allow time for that, right?”
“Maybe a lap or two.”
“And the trip itself… I haven’t been out of New York since college, and that was to visit my brother. We rarely took trips when I was a kid, and when we did, my dad took us to Atlantic City or Mashantucket.”
I adjust my hat. “What’s in Mashantucket?”
“One of the largest resort casinos in North America,” Hazel says, her eyes dropping. “My travel budget is slim. Nonexistent, really. Between rent, bills, student loans, and”—she waves her spork around—“everything else, I wanted to save whatever was left, not spend it.”
“Everything else?”
Hazel meets my eyes, but she’s quiet. She seems to be deciding whether she wants to share something. “I want to keep my grandparents’ lake house in the family,” she finally says. “I pay for half of the mortgage to help my dad. My grandpa built the house himself.”
“Seriously? That’s a dream of mine, to do something like that.”
Hazel’s face lights up. “Really? You’ve got all the skills for it, I’m sure. What kind would you build?”
“Honestly, I think a lot of that depends on who I’m building it for—or with.”
“Like your special someone?” She says it with forced nonchalance.
“Exactly,” I say, holding back a smile. “But there’s not—I don’t have… there’s no one special in my life. Other than Toffee, of course.”
This doesn’t feel truthful. I’m practically living in an oil painting right now with a beautiful woman who cares about me enough to help me increase my luck. This feels pretty special.Shefeels pretty damn special.
“Yeah, well, special someones are hard to find these days,” Hazel says.
“Are you going to pay off the house with the winnings?”
Her chewing slows. “Oh,” she says, swallowing. “I don’t… the total mortgage is more than I would be able to cover with the annual payments. At least for right now.” She sets her spork down. “Do you ever feel guilty about winning? Like it was too easy? Money isn’t this easy to make.” She watches another boat pass us before speaking again. “It feels like, I don’t know, a dream or something. The money. The fortunes. This. All of it.” She peers up at me through her lashes. “Meeting you.”
“Your life can change in a second,” I say. “Doesn’t mean you change just as fast.”
“Yes. That’s exactly it.”
We float into a ray of sunlight, and Hazel’s eyes brighten as her dark hair takes on a reddish hue. She’s as picturesque as the trees and skyline behind her. Winning the lottery might not feel real. This, though. This doesn’t either.
I can’t help but feel the spark of luck again. It’s too good, being here with her.
“But I… yes,” I say on an exhale. “I do know that feeling.” Of guilt. Of pressure.
In fact, I know those feelings a little too well.
“Do you feel like you need to give the money to anyone? Tofamily?” Hazel asks, her eyebrows furrowed. She sits up straighter. “Sorry, oh my god. That’s such an intrusive question.”
“Hazel, we won the lottery together,” I say. “We’re bonded for life.”
This gets a small smile out of her, and I think, maybe, relief?
“But to answer your question, no,” I answer. “They don’t need it.”
Hazel twists her spork into the chicken breast. “Mine’s the opposite. My dad is bad with money. Whenever money came in, it went right out. We’d go from having a nice dinner one night to eating frozen pizza seven nights in a row.”
She doesn’t elaborate, so I say, “That’s a really big swing.”
She nods. “I don’t trust the lottery money. This game has been such a disaster for my family. And now it’s part of my life forever.”
“Or at least until the annuity runs out.”
