Lucky Penny (21 page)

Our jobs, of course.

“Of course.”

I followed Tara out of the swinging door and into the room. My eyes remained lowered, but it didn’t stop me from peeking out from under my lashes to watch him.
Them.
Blake and Brittany were sitting slightly angled toward one another, his arm draped over the back of her chair. As I drew closer, I noticed they were talking to other people seated at their table, laughing and joking as if they were all old friends. Blake looked at ease with a playful expression on his face, the same one I’d witnessed so many times during the summer. The tailored, crisp white shirt molded to his broad shoulders. He looked good in a tux. Too good. His hair was shorter, styled to perfection, and even the scruff covering his jaw that I’d come to love over the summer was gone.

Who is this person?

No one even looked up as I approached the table. Not even a cursory glance. It was as if I was nothing. Insignificant… Invisible. I sure felt it.

I worked quickly; collecting the empty plates from each guest’s left side, I risked only the occasional glance over at Blake and Brittany. They were in full conversation with the woman seated at Brittany’s other side who I assumed was her mother. She had the same cold eyes as her daughter. Blake smiled at something she said, his lips hooking up on the side. It was such a simple gesture, but it caused the air to suck right from my lungs. It was the moment I realized that this wasn’t all some dreadful mistake. A production crew wasn't about to leap out from hiding and announce that this was all part of some elaborate prank. No, the truth was staring me right in the face—Blake wasn’t just with these people… he was one of them.

A wave of nausea slammed into me and I stumbled backward. The stack of plates balanced in my hand wobbled and a knife rolled off the edge and clattered to the floor. Ten faces glared at my incompetence, but I didn’t see them; I only saw two blue eyes filled with shock and horror. We remained staring at one another for longer than we should have. Long enough to earn a confused look from Brittany as she tried to piece together how Blake could possibly know someone like me—the hired help. She laid a hand on his arm commanding his attention. I used the moment to collect the remaining plates and get the hell out of there.

My back pressed to the wall where I stood with the other servers watching Anthony Weston deliver his opening speech. His presence didn’t live up to the rumors. He wasn’t just formidable; he was terrifying. A tall, well-built man with a thick head of salt and pepper hair, he spoke with such poise and certainty that not a single sound could be heard. Guests raised a toast, clinking their glasses when required, but when Mr. Weston was talking, every single person in the room listened.

“Now that the formalities are out of the way, I have one last announcement to make before I hand you over to our emcee for the evening, Mike Carter. As some of you know, seven years ago, I discovered I had a nephew…” My heart slammed in my chest, and I inhaled trying to breathe. “The day Blake came to live with my wife, Miranda, and me, I gained the son I never had. Well, tonight I can announce that I am to also gain a daughter.”

Mr. Weston raised his glass in the direction of table six, but I forced myself not to look. If I looked, the thread I was hanging by would surely snap.

“I can think of no better match for Blake than Brittany. The Arnold and Weston families have a history that goes back decades, and now, they also have a future.” He said her name as if she was royalty, like everyone in the room would automatically know who she was. “Please raise a glass in toasting their engagement and wishing them a future filled with happiness and success. To Blake and Brittany.”

The thread snapped.

I excused myself quietly and rushed into the kitchen unable to catch my breath. Heads whipped in my direction, but I ignored their confused glances as I made a beeline for the staff restrooms at the back of the building. My body crashed through the door, and I fell into the first stall slamming the door behind me. I crumpled down onto the seat and pinched my eyes shut trying to stop the tears from falling.

Fiancée.

He had a freaking fiancée.

Short, ragged breaths heaved in and out of my chest as my world crashed down around me. All summer, I’d slowly allowed Blake in. Smile by smile. Heated look by heated look. And although I felt the change in him, I thought it was time’s doing. I was too blinded by his presence to realize the boy I’d once known was gone. The imposter sitting at table six looked like my Blake, smiled like him… but it wasn’t him. He wasn’t my lost, messy-haired kid with the crooked smile who showed me the stars and dreamed of a future where we made our own rules. The man out there in the designer tux drinking the expensive champagne from a crystal flute didn’t have to worry about making his next rent check or working shitty jobs to make ends meet. He didn’t know what it was like to be so haunted by the past that you didn’t live, you only existed.

With each thought, each painful memory, my fragile heart shattered all over again.

I’d known Blake had someone—he had told me as much—but I was too lost in our memories. One look at him across the fire and my soul remembered even when I wanted to forget. I couldn’t ignore the way our hearts called to one another. I’d spent the whole summer letting Blake back in, letting him mend the broken pieces of me.

Was it all a lie?

And if it was, where did we go from here?

The door to the restrooms opened, and Tara’s voice called, “Penny, are you in here?”

I reached around, flushed the toilet, and then dried my eyes on some paper. “Yeah, I’m fine.” Drawing a deep breath, I exited the stall catching my reflection in the mirrored wall opposite.

I looked like shit.

“Are you okay? You don’t look so well.” Concern flashed in Tara’s eyes, but she quickly replaced it with annoyance.

“I think I have the stomach flu,” I lied clutching my stomach and gagging for added effect.

“Shit,” she cursed. “Mary will freak. Get out of here, and I’ll cover for you. You had a family emergency, right?”

“Thank you.”

“Go. Sneak out the back exit.”

I nodded and hurried out of the restrooms. After retrieving my purse from the lockers, I left the clubhouse.

I didn’t allow myself to cry again until I got back to the apartment.

“Oh, shit. How did I not know this?” Marissa’s voice went all high pitched, and I moved the cell phone away from my ear. “Penny? Pen, are you there?”

“Yeah, I’m here.” I sighed, exhausted from a night spent sobbing into my pillow. I cried until my eyes stung and there were no tears left to cry.

“Get your laptop,” she ordered.

“Laptop? I don’t have one,” I replied meekly.

Marissa gasped down the line. “What the hell? Do you live in the dark ages? How do you watch Netflix or Google shit? How do you do that thing we all do called social media?”

I shrugged picking at one of the threads hanging from the couch. “I go to the library.”

“We need to get you hooked up, pronto.”

I rolled my eyes, a little annoyed at her presumptions. Didn’t she realize I couldn’t afford it? My reasons would only fall on deaf ears, though, so I remained silent.

“Okay. Well, then I’ll Google, and you listen. Hang on. I’ll put you on speaker.”

The line went quiet except for the sound of the frantic tapping of keys.
Tap, tap, tap.

“Ah-ha, I have something.” Her voice startled me, and I leaned back on the couch feeling as if I might need the extra support. “Anthony Weston, founder of West Lake and Associates, blah, blah, blah, adopts nephew, Blake Weston, after discovering his estranged sister had died following a drugs overdose. Blake had been put in foster care following his father’s arrest and subsequent incarceration for drug offenses. Anthony and his wife, Miranda, ask that reporters respect their privacy at this sensitive time.

“Oh, wait, there’s something else. It’s a photo of Blake with his aunt, uncle, and the Arnold family. That's her family, right? Piranha bitch… does she have long blond hair and eyes that could kill a girl dead with just one look?”

That’s her.

“Yes.” I sighed sadly trying hard not to conjure up the image of Blake pressing his lips to her cheek. Lips that had kissed me.

“Daughter of Trent Arnold, CEO of Arnold Holdings, is to attend Ohio State with a family friend and nephew of Anthony Weston, yada, yada, yada…”

My mental dam broke and images of Blake and Brittany flooded my mind. I imagined them attending class together, romantic picnics in Lincoln Tower Park, watching the Buckeyes on game day, and lazy mornings in his dorm room.

That should have been us.

The thought punched me in the chest, and I clenched my eyes tight forcing out my thoughts.

“Oh, I have more. They-”

“Stop.”

“What?” Marissa said, and I could imagine the frown etched across her forehead. “Come on, Penny, we need to know the facts. He left you the note, so he’s obviously not happy with her. Who would be…” She launched into a dissection of their relationship, but I tuned out. Blake had said it was complicated; only now, I realized he didn’t mean with Brittany. He meant with me.

I
was the complication.

But that wasn’t good enough for me. I didn’t want to be someone’s problem or hurdle… or temptation. I wanted to be someone’s reason.

I wanted to be Blake’s reason.

Foolishly, I thought we were getting a second chance, but now, all I saw was a million reasons why our story would never be rewritten.