That Second Chance (Getting Lucky #1)(95)

And with that, she takes off down the aisle and out of the store. I watch her walk briskly down the street, her hand lifting to her face to wipe away a tear.

And here I thought I couldn’t feel any shittier.

Fuck the mac and cheese. I’m drinking dinner again.



When I lost Claire, I felt like I was cloaked in darkness, like rain clouds were hovering over me, ready to pour on me whenever they felt like it.

I was in denial. Lost. Barely living.

I was just going through the motions for two years.

And then Ren came along, and she changed everything. She parted the clouds and reminded me what sunlight could feel like.

She set me free.

But instead of flying, I’ve grounded myself, taking away the one solid piece of happiness in my life.

I don’t know how to move forward, though. I don’t know how to move past the fear.

And I sure as fuck don’t know how to live in the same town as Ren.

It’s been a week since I ran into her at Oliver’s, another week of me avoiding her at all costs. One more week of not seeing the way her eyes light up when she sees me or feeling her small hands skim my waist before fully pulling me into a hug.

“Are you paying attention?”

“Huh?” I ask, snapping my eyes to the paper in front of me.

Annoyed, my dad huffs next to me. “You know what? I’m going to take over.”

“What?” Panic consumes me. “No.” I shake my head, trying to clear the thoughts of Ren out of my mind, at least for this brief meeting. “I’m sorry, it’s been a rough two weeks, but I’m here, present. I can do this, Dad.”

He levels me with a questioning glare. “It might sound dramatic, but the success of this booth is important to me. When your mom and I created the Lobster Landing and built it from the ground up, we had dreams of being able to give back to the community, to reinvest in this town that helped create a beautiful place for us to raise our family. Lobster Fest is about giving back. I need you to be present.”

“I am.” I grip my dad’s shoulder to add reassurance. “I’m present, Dad. This means a lot to me, too—I think more than you know. I want to be the man you can trust to take over your business. I’ve done everything leading up to this point for the Lobster Fest; trust me that I can handle this.”

He twists his lips to the side, thinking over my words, and finally he says, “You’ve done a great job so far. I’m just nervous.”

“Don’t be. It’s going to be amazing, Dad. The best booth in town.” I conspiratorially whisper, “By far better than Lobsters and Limerence’s booth.”

His eyebrows drawn, an irritated look mars my dad’s face. “That two-bit, pathetic excuse for a gift shop from two towns over can go to hell.”

Lobsters and Limerence is a sore subject. Established three years ago, it tried to model its entire business after the Lobster Landing and failed, providing the town of Coxachy with a cheap imitation not worth your time, but it still chaps my dad’s ass every time the owners come to Port Snow and buy out a booth. The only reason they’re allowed in the festivities is because they pay a hefty vendor fee that goes to preserving our beautiful stone library. But because the Lobster Fest committee is clearly Team Lobster Landing, they stick that booth in the far corner with very low visibility.

Don’t mess with the Knightlys.

“Do you know what their booth theme is?” my dad asks, still fuming.

I chuckle to myself, positive we have them beat. “Yup, and it’s horrible.”

“Give me a good laugh. What is it?”

“The Great Pumpkin.”

“Oh hell.” My dad has a good chuckle, knowing full well that this is the third year in a row they’re trying to pull off their overused theme. “They’re sunk.”

“No doubt in my mind.”



Week three.

Week fucking three, and as I stand here watching tourists and locals boast about our Lobster Fest booth, all I can think about is . . . how goddamn depressed I am.

I should be ecstatic, a happy motherfucker that not only did I pull off putting together a booth that will be remembered for years, but it’s been so damn successful that we sold out in the first two hours and have had to bring in reinforcements.

But none of that matters, because all I can think about is Ren. Is she here? Is she avoiding the festival altogether? Has she even thought about me?

Has she moved on?

That last thought makes my stomach clench, a wave of nausea hitting me hard.

And it doesn’t help that everyone keeps complimenting us on our theme, the theme that Ren thoughtfully came up with and that I played off, or the fact that everyone in town keeps mentioning the new algebra teacher and how our booth is going to give her a warm welcome to Port Snow.

It’s as if the town is ganging up on me, reminding me what a moronic ass I am.

“You look pale. Do you need some water?” Jen asks, stepping up next to me.

I’m standing off to the side, watching our staff expertly work the booth. “I’m good.” I adjust the red and worn-out Lobster Landing hat on my head. “Just taking everything in.” I scan the crowd, looking for a beautiful brunette with green eyes that have haunted my dreams nightly.

“Are you looking for Ren?”