Lucky Ball

by Lisa N. Paul

  Washing her hands, Wren stared at her reflection in the mirror. Gone was the girl who would have questioned every word uttered during the interaction with the boy from her past. Obviously people could change. She was a prime example.

  The first time she’d come to that same restaurant with Logan, they were a brand-new couple. While their relationship had quickly bloomed into more than she could have ever imagined, she knew even back then that Logan was a special man, one whom she could trust and hopefully give her heart. She hadn’t been lying when she told Thurston she was happy with her life. Even though she worked a job that left a lot to be desired, Logan filled her life with more enjoyment, peace of mind, and delight than she’d ever thought possible.

  As the bright-eyed woman smiled back at her, she finally admitted, “I’m not just happy—I’m in love.”

  While those feelings had been present for quite some time, the words had been itching to come out for days. In a small way, Thurston’s heartfelt apology had opened the doors for those words to swim free. Tossing his business card in the waste basket, Wren opened the door and headed back to their table.

  Since the restaurant was long and narrow, only two aisles ran through the entire floor. The dessert cart was parked in the middle of one aisle, forcing her to go down the other. That’s where she saw a cute family. A little curly-haired girl, no older than four, belly laughed as her mommy helped her eat a cannoli. Daddy nuzzled his wife’s ear, giving what looked like gentle nips and soft kisses. The gold band on his left hand made Wren’s tummy flutter. She loved when men wore wedding bands, as if to tell the world that their heart belonged to someone. The flutters in her tummy turned to cinderblocks when the man pulled away and Wren got a look at his face.

  Thurston Mills had not changed. He had not grown. He was still the same lying son of a bitch he had always been. His hands had been tucked in his pockets. Red-hot anger and humiliation surged through her. Thoughts of marching over to the table and making a scene flashed through her mind, only to be squelched by the realization that he could deny everything and his wife would believe him over her.

  His apology had meant nothing. It was just another way to humiliate her, to hurt her, and once again, she’d fallen for it, hook, line, and sinker.

  On unsteady legs, Wren made her way back to her table only to find Logan flanked by two attractive, giggling women, the waiter taking a picture as if he worked for TMZ. Logan’s smile was sexy, confident, more at peace than when he first started gaining attention. He still kept his hands in respectable places, but all Wren saw was a man she cared about sandwiched between two attractive women.

  “When you’re done with that picture, would you please get me a drink?” Her sharp tone made both Logan and the waiter give her guilty glances.

  “Of course, sorry, miss. Coming right up.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  My Reply Is No

  “Hey, are you okay?” It was a stupid question. He knew just by the set of her jaw that she was anything but all right.

  The women he had taken pictures with had graduated a class behind him in high school. One of them had gone to the prom with Marcus and held her head high when he ignored her after they arrived at the dance. He chose to spend the evening with a group of girls who were all over him instead of the one he came with. Logan had been ready to share the story with Wren but halted the second he saw her.

  “Look at me,” he said to the top of her head as she pushed cold food around on her plate. “Lucky, give me your eyes.”

  Slowly she lifted her head, and through her lashes he saw blue irises darkened with pain. Was she jealous? That couldn’t be. He’d never once given her reason to doubt him.

  “Tell me what’s wrong,” he said.

  “Nothing.”

  “I’m sorry you came back to me taking pictures with those women. You know you have nothing to worry about ever.”

  “Okay, right.”

  “Wren—”

  “Just let it go.”

  Let it go? How was he supposed to let it go? Tonight was the night he intended to bare his soul to her. Moving their relationship to the next level had been the only thing on his mind for days, weeks if he was being honest, and now he looked at the woman he loved and all he saw was pain. He was supposed to let it go?

  Pulling in a deep breath, he attempted to do what she requested. “So the eighties rock show is only three weeks away. Matty Davis has been kicking ass during rehearsals.”

  Wren’s lips curled up. “I’m so glad. I told his mother I’d come and watch the performance.”

  They spoke about the show for a few minutes before switching to a new topic, but whatever it was that had upset Wren still shadowed her every move.

  When they returned to her house, Logan pulled a basket out of his trunk while Wren unlocked her front door.

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  “I have something important I want to discuss with you. I wanted to do it at the restaurant, but something told me it was better to do it here.”

  Her shoulders slumped as she entered her home. A small voice in the back of Logan’s mind warned him to tread lightly, but his heart insisted that he plow forward. Wren excused herself to change her clothes, and Logan took the basket into the family room.

  After placing the basket on the coffee table, Logan flipped open the lid and pulled out a container filled with Mrs. Russell’s chocolate chip cookies. He peeled off the lip and inhaled the delicious aroma. Since being with Wren, the smell of cookies got him hard. Not something to brag about, but it made him smile.

  He pulled a split of champagne from the ice-filled bag it was nestled in. Well aware that Wren enjoyed a glass but not much more, he’d purchased the tiny bottle as more of a statement than a thirst quencher. Once the small table was set, Logan switched on the flames in the fireplace.

  “Oh… what’s all this?” Looking like a deer in the headlights, Wren—who had changed into her beloved My Book Boyfriend Comes on Command sweatshirt and leggings—stared at the romantic setup.

  A heavy feeling grew in the pit of his stomach. “Come here, babe, I want to talk to you.”

  Slowly, she walked to him. Her hands were behind her back, her eyes averted to the coffee table.

  “Have a seat. This isn’t bad news, honey. It’s anything but.”

  It wasn’t until he was seated next to her on the couch that he noticed she was holding something. Caressing the orb as if it were a long-lost lover, she rolled it from one palm to the other. Something had freaked her out. Made her doubt him and them. Whatever it was, he was going to put those doubts to rest.

  “Wren, when I first met you in December, I had no clue that life as I knew it had changed. You were a whirlwind that swept in and out, leaving me stunned, speechless. For three weeks I thought about you, wrote about you, and promised whoever was listening up there that if I got another chance with you, I wouldn’t let you go. That second night, I thought maybe I was hallucinating, that there was no way you were in the same bar I was performing in for the first time in nearly a decade. But you were there, and I knew I’d found someone special.”

  As Logan spoke, Wren sat quietly, her eyes locked on his, her ball pressed tightly in her grip.

  “I know we haven’t been together long—correction, I hadn’t even realized that until you pointed it out the other night at bowling. That’s when it hit me—as much as I feel, as hard as I’ve fallen, as strong as we are, I haven’t told you how completely in love with you I am. I love you, Wren. I’m going to love you forever.”

  Her knee bounced until she finally tucked it under her body. Glassy blue eyes stared at him for a moment before she spoke. “You love me?”

  “Yes, baby, I love you. Only you. Always you.” He’d tell her as many ways as he could so she would understand. “There is no one else for me.”

  Deafened by her silence, the weight in Logan’s stomach grew heavier. Needing a point of connection, Logan stroked the side of her face. W
hen she flinched at his touch, he felt as if a knife had seared through his chest.

  Darting off the sofa and onto his knees in front of her, he felt the inches between them like miles. “What is going on? You need to talk to me. Something happened tonight, and you’ve got to tell me what the hell it is.”

  *

  She saw the anguish on his face, heard it in his pleas. This was her doing, yet she couldn’t stop it. Men lied. They cheated. They did what they could to bring women down so they could feel better about themselves. They didn’t change. She’d seen it so many times. Yes, Thurston had damaged her and destroyed her confidence, but the guys she’d dated afterward were no better. Even the men she didn’t date, like her ex-manager Dave, tried to do it.

  Sure, Logan had been the exception… so far. But it was only a matter of time before he was no better than the rest. She wouldn’t be able to handle that kind of betrayal from him. It would kill her.

  “Wren?”

  Shaking the Fortune Eight Ball, she asked, “Can any man truly love a woman?”

  –Concentrate And Ask Again–

  “For once in your life, look to me for your answer and not that goddamn dollar store piece of plastic. For Christ’s sake, Wren, what in the fuck happened tonight to make you doubt me?”

  Staring at the non-answer, numbness overtook her body. Logan had said he loved her. More than that, he’d all but proposed marriage. She was being a bitch, but Thurston’s proposition repeated in her head as the image of him with his wife and daughter danced before her eyes.

  “That’s the problem,” she replied, once again avoiding the question he asked. “I stopped going to the ball for answers. This piece of dollar store plastic has never let me down and—”

  “Never let you down?” Frustration rushed his speech. “Are you kidding me? You gave up your dream of being a teacher and work a job you hate because of that ball. We lost days together, weeks—time we will never get back—because of that ball. And now you’re leaning on that ball for answers instead of the man who would walk through fire for you. The man who loves you. Goddamn it, Wren, tell me what caused this?”

  “Stop telling me you love me! I can’t hear it anymore,” she screamed. Every time he spoke the words, little pieces of her heart melted. “You want to know what happened? Fine. I saw Thurston Mills tonight at the restaurant.”

  Logan’s rapid blinking turned into a deep frown. “The guy from high school?”

  “Yes, him. He cornered me on my way to the bathroom. He was all sorts of apologetic about the things that went down back then. Very sincere when he asked me to give him a second chance because he’d been thinking about me all these years.”

  Logan’s eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared, but he remained silent.

  “On my way back to our table, I passed what seemed to be a cute family laughing and having fun. The husband had his tongue in his wife’s ear…” That poor woman. “The husband was Thurston. The same guy who hit on me less than five minutes earlier. The same guy who apologized for being a liar. The same damn guy.”

  “What are you trying to tell me here, Wren? You still want the fucking douchebag who hurt you when you were sixteen?” He stood and backed away from her, hurt and disbelief chiseled on his face.

  “No, I want nothing to do with him. Ever. I went back to our table, and there you were posing with two women. You were laughing like they were friends instead of fans, and that’s when I realized…”

  “I can’t wait to hear this,” Logan muttered. “What did you realize while looking at me with those two women?”

  Swallowing the lump in her throat, Wren knew her next words would be cruel, but she couldn’t stop them. “I realized that you and I aren’t meant to be together, because in the end, you’ll break my heart.”

  *

  “I-I’ll break your heart?” He was vibrating with anger. “You saw me taking a picture with women, one of whom I went to high school with”—when she flinched, a small amount of smugness passed through his battered frame—“and instead of asking me about it, you decided I’d break your heart?” He swiped the black orb from her grip.

  “Logan, no. Please don’t hurt him.” Each word was another punch to his bloody face.

  “You trust this ball, yes?”

  Wren nodded. “Please give him back to me.”

  “It tells nothing but the truth, correct?”

  She nodded again. The weight in his stomach got heavier with every nod given.

  “Fine.” He hissed, dropping the toy in Wren’s waiting hands. “I have a few questions for the great ball of truth. Has everything I’ve said to Wren been the truth?”

  Hesitantly, she gave it a quick shake, and he looked over her shoulder to read the response.

  –It Is Certain–

  “Hmm, interesting. Let’s try another one, shall we?” Not waiting for her response he asked, ‘Was there ever a moment when Wren loved me back?”

  –My Reply Is No–

  “Got it.” Logan grabbed his coat from the back of the couch. “Enjoy your precious ball. I hope the two of you are very happy together.”

  Logan didn’t look back as he walked through her door. He couldn’t. It didn’t matter that he didn’t believe a thing that fucking ball said. It only mattered that she did. As he sank into his car, he realized that the weight in his stomach was gone and all that was left was emptiness.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Desperate Times

  “Answer the door, Wrenny.”

  Emmy’s banging was giving Wren a headache, but she had no intention of getting off the couch to open her door. If she wanted company, she would have answered one of the fifty phone calls or twenty thousand text messages Emmy had sent over the past two and a half days. Geez, had it really been that long?

  “This is your last chance. I’ve given you some privacy, but if you don’t answer the door, I’m invoking best friend rights and using my key.” The doorbell chimed again before Emmy screeched, “If you’re dead in there, I’m gonna be so pissed at you.” The deadbolt then the knob clicked before the door creaked open. “Holy shit. What the hell is that smell?”

  “Brussels sprouts,” Wren called without turning to face Emmy.

  “Yuck, I’m not sure what’s worse: the way you look or the way your house smells. Seriously, eew.”

  “Whatever.” Wren sat cross-legged on the couch, still wearing the sweatshirt and leggings she’d put on the night things ended with Logan. Things didn’t end. You ended them. Are you happy now? That question had played in her head on a loop since he walked out of her house and her life. The answer had yet to come. She was nothing… numb. Frozen. Broken.

  The cushion next to her bounced. “Wow, I was wrong. You absolutely smell worse than those nasty sprouts.” Emmy scrunched up her nose and waved her hand in front of her face. “Sweetie, when was the last time you showered?”

  “Saturday.”

  “Ahh, so we’re at the one-word answer phase of this depression. Gotcha. Going solely by the one text you sent me on Sunday night…” Emmy yanked her phone from her pocket and scrolled. “Yes, here it is. After nearly fifty texts from me, you responded with, ‘need to be alone, memmy.’ Aside from the adorable nickname, which I’m assuming was a typo, I took that to mean there was a problem with you and Logan?”

  Wren didn’t bother giving her a confirmation or denial.

  Emmy continued. “You missing two days of work and not calling me to bring food or medicine was a dead giveaway too.”

  “How did you know I missed work?”

  “Oh please,” Emmy said as if the question was ludicrous. “I work with lawyers. I can find any information I want.”

  That comment made Wren snort. It was the first time her face had moved in days. “Sooo you called Mr. and Mrs. Hayden, huh?”

  Shrugging, Emmy placed the cell on the coffee table. “It doesn’t matter. What does is why you’ve been sitting in your house alone since Saturday night when you could have cal
led me. I would have come over no matter the time.”

  “I know.” But she didn’t want company. Okay, that wasn’t the truth. The truth was she didn’t want to see the disappointment on Emmy’s face when she admitted what had gone down between her and Logan.

  “Tell me what happened. I know you broke up with him, sweetie, but what I don’t know is why.”

  How had she found out? The lump in Wren’s throat made it almost impossible for her to ask. “I didn’t tell Mr. and Mrs. Hayden about my breakup, so how do you know?”

  Emmy’s hand wrapped around Wren’s. “Desperate times call for desperate measures when a sister’s in trouble.”

  Did that cryptic response mean that she had contacted Smith? “Emmy, you didn’t—”

  “We are talking about you right now. What did that bastard do to you?”

  “Don’t call him that,” Wren snapped, surprised that her knee-jerk reaction made her eyes sting. “I mean, he didn’t do anything. It was me. In the end, it was me.”

  After more than two days of detached silence, her numbness had worn off. As her feelings returned, so did the memories of Logan declaring his love. His face beamed when he said he would love her forever, only to darken when she crushed his heart.

  “Shit, start talking.”

  By the time Wren had finished telling the story, the sun had changed places with a sliver of silvery moon.

  “Here, sweetie.” Emmy handed her a bottle of water. “Drink this.”

  The cold water soothed her dry throat, but it did nothing to relieve the stinging in her eyes. Eyes that had yet to release any tears.

  “What are you going to do?”

  Emmy’s question was legit. The problem was, Wren had no answer. “I don’t know.”

  Sighing, Emmy ran a hand through her long blond hair. “Wrenny, ‘I don’t know’ is not an answer. You’ve used it as one for years, but it is not an answer. I love you. That’s something you do know, right?”

  Wren nodded.