Page 32 of Lucky 22

“Come on in.” I sit up a little straighter, but I know Idon’t look my best.

“Hey, you,” she says as she carefully opens the door.Holding up a pastry box with a sympathetic smile, she sits at the foot of mybed and gets comfortable. “I figured you were having your sad tea party anddecided you needed some cake to go with it.”

I glance at the clock and see that it’s a little after nine.“It’s a bit early for cheesecake.”

“Pfft. Why is it too early for cheesecake but not a muffin?Or a cinnamon roll? Or a donut? I mean, why are we relegating the cheesecake tothe p.m. time?”

“You make a good point. Hit me with a slice.”

“Um, I’ll be right back. I forgot the plates.” She’s on herfeet. “And forks.” She dashes out of the room. “And napkins!” she calls.

While she’s gone, I put my tea on my bedside table beforeopening the box and inhaling deeply.

Oh, sweet sugary goodness, how I love you.

Before I can profess my love, Jen’s back with her hands fullof everything we need for breakfast in bed.

I scoot closer to the wall and move the blankets aside.“Join me,” I tell her.

She happily climbs in beside me and pulls the covers back upover our laps. I rest my head on her shoulder as she hands me a plate with aslice of cheesecake and a muffin. I take a forkful of cheesecake and hum inappreciation.

“That’s the stuff,” Jen says after doing the same.

“Cheesecake is always there for you. It never leaves.”

“Oh, sweetie…”

I immediately think about last night.

Saying goodbye was harder than I thought it would be.

A part of me can’t believe I’m this attached and emotionalabout a man I barely know. And yet, here I am.

Christian’s schedule was hectic the last couple of days, butwe managed to squeeze in an early lunch date before his game yesterday. Itwasn’t ideal, but we wanted to see each other one more time. We talk on thephone every chance we get, but it was nice to see his face.

We met up at the café around the corner from my apartment,and as soon as he spotted me, he walked over and kissed me on the cheek. “Hey,Ella Rose,” he said softly, his lips lingering against my skin.

I love it when he does that. The warmth of him, his smoothjawline…it’s like a magnet. And as usual, he smelled so darn good.

When he pulled back, he took my hand and led me to a tablein the corner that he had secured for us. I sat, surprised to see that he hadeven ordered a cup of tea and a chocolate croissant for me.

“I remembered you telling me how much you love these,” hesaid as he sat. His blue eyes, the ones that always look so kind andcomforting, looked sad.

So, he was feeling it, too.

There were so many things I wanted to say, but I couldn’tseem to make myself say any of them. Mainly because it was about how much Ididn’t want him to go. I’d been torturing myself since Thursday night with theentire situation. I knew it was something he had to do. Had to. Hisfuture playing baseball depended on it. Which meant I couldn’t be selfish, nomatter how much I wanted to be.

Instead, I wrapped my hands around my tea, letting the heatseep into my palms and keep me from reaching for him. Across the table,Christian leaned back, his own cup untouched.

“A month,” he said softly, almost as if testing the words.

I tried to smile, but it wavered. “It’s not that long.”

“Feels like it could be.”

Something in the way he said it caught me off guard and mademy chest tighten. We’d only just begun—had barely scratched the surface of eachother’s lives—yet the thought of him being gone made the edges of the roomblur.

I stared down at the steaming, deep amber liquid in my cup. “You’llbe back before I even realize it.” But my voice was quiet, betraying more thanI wanted it to.