Lucky: A Love Lane Short Read Online Free PDF Page B

be
good,” Mindy says nonchalantly with a shrug of her
shoulders.
    “ You are impossible. I am
not even going to dignify that with a response. You better get to
your meeting before you’re late.” I walk away, shaking my head,
which is now filled with images of Henry and I in bed.
    This is going to be a long
day.
    ***
    Henry

    “ Hey, Mom. I brought your
favorite today—pink roses.”
    Sitting down on the fluffy
patch of green grass, I place the roses in the fluted plastic vase
that sits at the base of her tombstone. Mom always loved flowers;
it was the one thing she would splurge on for herself. When she got
sick and started chemo, fresh flowers weren’t allowed due to risk
of infection, so instead, I covered her walls with photographs of
every variety of flowers I could find. Now I always make a point to
pick up a bouquet before I visit.
    I know it’s silly, but I
find so much comfort in coming to the cemetery to talk with her. I
can feel her presence here and know she is listening.
    “ Remember that girl at work
I told you about, Kate? She broke up with her boyfriend, and I feel
so guilty about how happy that makes me feel. She’s leaving the
apartment they shared and will be moving to Love Lane. I gave her
the grand tour yesterday, and she loved DeVito’s pizza.” I chuckle,
thinking back to how adorably goofy Kate was while preaching about
her love of pizza.
    “ I’ve wanted her for so
long, and after spending the day with her, I want her even more.” I
go on to tell Mom all about the conversation I overheard between
Mindy and Kate, the one where Kate said I wasn’t her type, leaving
out the part about my ‘package’ of course.
    “ I could sense from her
yesterday—from the way she smiled to the way she held my hand—that
she feels it, too. I am her type. We fit together perfectly, but
I’m also scared. She was with her boyfriend for a long time, and I
don’t want to be just a rebound. I want to be her
forever.”

Chapter Six
     
    The week has continued to
fly by in a whirlwind of work, followed by packing box after box
and taking each spare moment I can get on the phone, talking with
Henry. We found that we have a great deal in common, which helps
our conversations flow easy. Hours pass with ease as we talk about
everything from the most mundane, like what we ate for dinner that
night, to our mutual obsession with The
Walking Dead . The more serious topic of
Henry’s mother—her cancer, the continuous care, and the anger and
despair it caused Henry—is also spoken about frequently.
    I think finally talking
about her again after months of mourning has been therapeutic for
him. Conversations that once left Henry withdrawn are now often
accompanied with laughs from fond childhood memories which are then
quickly followed by a few of my own that almost always revolve
around one of my sisters doing something that thoroughly
embarrassed me.
    Henry has also made it very
clear during more than one conversation that he will be helping me
move this weekend. “That’s what friends do for each other, Kate, so
don’t even think about saying no. You know I’m good for all that
heavy lifting.”
    “ What makes you think I
would say no? I have the heaviest boxes already marked with your
name,” I joke while contemplating that word: friends. It causes
such a mix of emotions inside me. I am genuinely happy that Henry
and I have become friends, but a part of me—a part that seems to be
growing each day—wants more than friendship.
    I want to wrap my arms
around him in support when he talks about his mother. I want to
press my lips against his whenever he smiles with that damn sexy
smirk. More than anything, late at night, when we would normally be
on the phone talking or texting, I want instead to be lying right
beside him, our bodies flush together, expressing words of
passion.
    “ It’s settled, then. I’ll
meet you in front of your new building Saturday at eight a.m. how
does that sound?”
    “ That