My Lucky Days: A Novel (29 page)

I should have questioned his kiss, but I couldn’t question something that rendered me weak in the knees and took my breath away. Too many days of being alone. Too many weeks of dreaming of the way it felt to be with him while having only a pillow to hold. I needed this kiss as much as he wanted it.

I tightened my arms around his neck, holding onto his shoulders as he pressed his hips tighter against me. It wouldn’t take much to straddle his waist. My feet were practically off the ground. And as if he read my mind, Lucky lifted me up and I wrapped my legs around his body. He held me in place, kissing me deeply and madly.

I heard the sexy whistle come from behind us. Looking over his shoulder, I saw Peyton standing there in the identical graduation outfit. “Normally, I would say yes to what is about to happen, but today might not be the best day to cop a feel against the library wall.” She laughed, sending the high-pitched giggles off into the wind. “Oh, and Skylar’s back. Get yourself put together. She wants pictures.”

“Be there in a second,” I mumbled, letting my feet touch the ground again.

Peyton gave me a wink. “Okay.”

As she walked away, I buried my face in his chest. He lifted my chin up, kissing me on my nose. “Sorry. I got a little caught up in the moment.”

“It’s okay. I . . . well.” I blushed. “Maybe you should let go of me.”

“Right.” He laughed, taking a step back. I tried to smooth my clothes back down. My heart was racing and I got a little dizzy. I closed my eyes for a second afraid the nausea would surface.

“You okay, Katie?”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s go.” Taking my hand, we walked slowly over to the fountain and rejoined Peyton’s family. Skylar wrapped me in a big hug. We took another round of pictures with the three of us. She had painted an abstract picture on the top of her square cap, which had made it easier to spot in the crowd from the arena seats.

“Katie!” I turned around, seeing Lucky’s mama with Colt and Callie. The kids ran over, jumping up and down. They were talking nonstop.

“Can I wear the hat?” Mia asked, tugging on my arm.

“Okay. Okay.”

I unpinned it from my hair, placing the black hat with the orange tassel on her head. She smiled big, and Lucky snapped a picture of us together.

“Congratulations.” Colt gave me a hug, followed by Callie. Her blonde hair was straight today instead of curly. I knew it took extra effort for her to style it that way—only for special occasions.

Colleen pulled me in a tight squeeze afterward. She was the nicest person and was incredibly excited about the baby. “So we have a surprise for you. We planned a little party. And invited your roommates and their families too. A party for all three of you.”

“What?” The tears stung my eyes. “You didn’t have to.”

“I know. But we wanted to. So let’s get going.”

Lucky whispered in my ear. “If we hurry, I can beat them to the house. Give us a few minutes alone.”

I nodded as he pulled me across campus to his truck. We exited the parking lot in a blur. As he drove out to Colt and Callie’s house, we didn’t talk much. He held my hand across the seat, glancing in my direction to the point of distraction.

“You need to look at the road.” I pointed at the front windshield.

He grinned in my direction. “I can see just fine.”

“What if there’s a deer? There could be a deer, and you would need to see it coming.”

“There’s not going to be a deer this time of day.” He laughed out loud. I think every time Lucky returned to me, he got a little cuter, a little wilder. The star was coming alive and being born with every week he was gone.

As his truck pulled in the driveway, I gasped. The yard was set up with tables and chairs and centerpieces. And a catering van was parked in the driveway: a literal catering van.

A stray tear rolled down my cheeks, and I quickly wiped it away. “That’s not a little party.”

“It’s my mama. Did you think it would actually be a small party?” He laughed. “Come on. We’ve only got ten minutes. Fifteen, tops.”

My face turned pink before jumping out of the truck. He grabbed my hand and we ran across the yard laughing together. And it was my turn to gaze back at him to the point of distraction as the sunshine touched his beautiful smile and wild hair.

I loved him. I loved him so much it made me smile and made me hurt. There wasn’t enough space inside my chest to contain the way I felt about Lucky. The love of my life. The father of my child.

A
t the beginning of June, I boarded a plane and left for Santa Fe, New Mexico. I was excited to see Lucky. But a familiar feeling resurfaced in my gut—a cold and bitter spark that always came when I moved on.

As I flew over the square patches of brown and green land, I thought about the time in first grade when I painted a picture of my family.

I had made everything in my drawing a different color. The tree was solid red. The ground was solid brown. As for the people, I made my father a yellow color with my mother blue. I remember being really proud of myself. Yellow and blue made green, and I had colored myself a dark emerald shade just like the city.

When I brought the picture home, my mother’s eyebrow arched into little points. They were always so perfectly sculpted. I assumed they still were plucked that way.

But on that cold afternoon, she’d held my picture and said, “Well, isn’t that colorful,”
before promptly tossing my drawing in the trash. I think my mouth fell open and a tear rolled down my cheek. Pictures were supposed to go on the refrigerator. Right?

But my mother looked back at me and said, “Don’t cry about it. We’re leaving next week. Can’t be packing every picture you make, or the movers would need a second truck.”

I took my beautiful picture out of the trash and taped it to the refrigerator anyway. And when the movers came, it stayed in place as they loaded everything in the truck and we drove away in the snow.

When I arrived in Santa Fe, Lucky was at the airport. He swept me up in a dramatic kiss that would make most parents hide the eyes of their children. Even with the growing apprehension of this new adventure, his sweet face made everything seem better. His excitement was contagious, and I got swept up in the clouds with him.

We took a cab to a little venue called the Dagwood Event Center, which was really a club with an arena name. He carried my bags to the old brown and tan bus. As I walked up the steps, I froze in place. Reality was a bitch sometimes. I had been wrong about the importance of his bus.

My eyes took in the faded tan walls covered in a layer of dust. The table was dirty and the floor was littered with crunched beer cans. My hand covered my mouth as I tried not to gag.

The smell came in a toxic cloud, coating my lungs and my stomach with every breath, making the nausea spin in waves. The guys could have at least picked up the trash. His bus was like a damn fraternity house on wheels.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m . . .”
Breathe in my nose and out my mouth, in my nose and out my mouth.

“Katie, I’m sorry.” He had a worried look on his face. “I know this place is fucked up. The guys get carried away. And it’s old. I’d do anything right now to make this nicer. If you don’t want to stay, I can take you back to the airport. I’ll understand.”

But as he said those words, the light seemed to vanish from his eyes. He wanted me here. I had to give this summer a chance. My nails dug half-moons into the palms of my hands as I plastered on a smile. “We get to be together. That’s all that matters. Right?”

“Yeah.” He set my bags down on that dirty table and a chill went up my spine. He came over to me, pulling my hands from their death grip, threading his fingers through mine. “I know this is hard for you. So thank you.”

“And you’ll make them be cleaner?”

He smiled. “Yes.”

“Okay. That um . . . that will help. Because this bus makes me question my last tetanus shot date.”

He laughed at my joke. “I’ve missed how funny you are.”

“I’ve missed you,” I whispered.

“I love you.” As his lips touched mine, I felt his hand run over my stomach. Baby orange had grown into baby cantaloupe. Lucky bent down, resting his forehead on my growing bump that was very obvious now. His lips pressed against my T-shirt.

A tear fell down my cheek. Even though everything about this bus made my skin crawl, that moment right there erased every dirty table and crunched beer can.

I felt a movement, a very distinguishable movement. I knew they weren’t my imagination anymore. But I felt it and so did Lucky. His head tilted up as the questions danced in his eyes. “Was that . . . is that?”

“Yeah.” We both laughed, and I was crying.

“I love you, Katie. More than I ever thought possible.” Lucky wrapped his arms around my whole body, resting his face on my stomach. “And I love her too.”

I ran my fingers through his hair. “So you think it’s a girl?”

“Yes. Don’t you?”

I smiled. “Dr. Phillips said it was too early since I had to move the appointments around.”

“Well, I think she’s a girl.” Lucky stood up, brushing a kiss on my cheek. “Maybe we should make a bet. If I’m right, then I get to name her. If it’s a boy, you can name him.”

“I don’t know if I like this idea.”

“What? You don’t trust me?”

“No.” I laughed. “Not with something like—”

But he kissed the rest of the words away. I was glad I was here with him. For a moment, I didn’t care about anything else but the three of us.

I
still remember the first time I saw Lucky perform. He was pure magic, like a star shooting through the sky. After seeing his official show for the first time, I changed my mind. The guy was a rocket, blasting across the stage. The energy. The voice. And he danced. I couldn’t believe my eyes. The guy who preferred to have a guitar in his hands left it behind for a few songs and actually danced while singing. The crowd loved it.

We left Santa Fe for Albuquerque. The bus was overcrowded once everyone boarded that night after the show. Lucky and I shared a full-sized bed with a private door. I fell asleep with his arms around me with his hand on my bare stomach while the band partied outside our room.

I told myself that I could get used to this. I told myself that same thing every morning when I woke up in a different place than where I fell asleep.

By the first week, life slipped into a pattern of traveling and stopping. And then my back started hurting when I stood too long at the shows. I tried sitting in a chair backstage. But honestly, I just didn’t feel very well.

And I was never alone.

Ever.

We lived on the bus with his band and his manager Roger. He was younger than I expected with a mustache. The ’70s handlebar kind with matching long hair. And the band drank until the early morning hours while playing music or playing poker. They were having the time of their lives. I swear Clark could devour an entire keg by himself. Sometimes they brought girls on board, dropping them off in different cities. I wasn’t even sure how that worked—how they got home.

Since my days revolved around the never-ending circus, I started spending the concert time on the bus. Sometimes reading but usually cleaning while wearing extra-thick plastic gloves. I didn’t want to know what the guys did with the girls they took with us.