That Secret Crush (Getting Lucky #3)(11)

“Think you’re a regular Kevin Hart, don’t you?”

She fluffs her hair. “No, more like an Amy Schumer. More badass.”

Can’t argue with her there.



“Mom? Dad?” I call out as I enter my childhood home and kick off my shoes.

“Kitchen, dear,” Mom calls back. I follow the scent of homemade marinara sauce down the hall to the kitchen and the attached dining area, which overlooks the bay.

My parents have lived in this house for over twenty years, and even though the pictures hanging on the walls are from the nineties, it’s been updated and renovated throughout the years. Brand-new hardwood floors throughout the main living space, a fresh coat of paint on all the walls, and a state-of-the-art kitchen for all the fudge making my dad conducts on a weekly basis. Thanks to Rogan, they haven’t had to do much of the work themselves. Pretty sure Rogue and Griffin are tied for favorite child.

Dad is at the stove, stirring a giant pot with a wooden spoon, while Mom hovers around him, holding a bowl of homemade dough and glancing over his shoulder. Neither one of them can give up control in the kitchen, which is why we were fed so well as kids.

I press a kiss to my dad’s partially balding head and one to my mom’s cheek before reaching into the fridge for a water and sitting on the counter.

“To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?” Mom asks, keeping her eyes on my father.

“Just stopping in. Had the day off, so I thought I’d see what you two are doing.”

“You took the day off?” Dad asks, a pinch to his brow. “Since when do you take days off?”

They both know I’m trying to rebuild my savings, trying to make sure I don’t ever end up hitting rock bottom again. I may have replaced my knives with a lobster cage, but I’m still determined to make sure I never have to live with my parents again, even if it means working at the Lobster Landing until I’m fifty.

“I still went out to sea this morning but asked for a day off from the Landing. Griff was cool with it.” Griffin has recently taken over the family business from Dad, working his ass off to prove he can run it and make it just as successful as when my parents were in charge. He loves working there, selling fudge and baked goods. I, on the other hand . . . no fucking thank you. Dealing with sweaty, grouchy tourists during the summer and entitled locals during the off-season—yeah, I’d rather be out on the boat. And now that Dad has handed over the crown to the family business, he’s no longer training Griffin, which gives him more time to pester me about what I want to do with my life, where I want to take my “talents.” What’s even more annoying is that he speaks to me in such a loving and caring manner that when I get pissed every time he brings up the future, I end up feeling like an even bigger asshole later.

“Why did you ask for the day off? Just needed some time to rest your brain?” Mom asks.

My parents weren’t great friends with Eve’s parents, who were quite a bit older, but they were still cordial and kind and would have them over for dinner on occasion. So when Eve and Eric lost both their parents, they were there for my friends, but I wouldn’t expect them to remember the days they passed.

“Today’s the anniversary of Jay’s death.”

“Oh dear, how could we forget?” Mom says just as Dad turns around to face me for the first time.

“Is Eric in town?”

I shake my head. “No, but I did go out to the cemetery. Eve was there by herself. I gave her privacy while she talked with her parents, and when she was done, I took her out to lunch so she wasn’t by herself.”

A look of pride washes over my mom’s features. “That was very sweet of you, Reid. Where is she now? Would she like to come over for dinner? I would hate for her to be alone tonight.”

“She’s getting ready to go over to Rylee’s. They’re having a girls’ night over there. I’m going to head up to the LI after dinner, just in case she decides to show up. I don’t want any dickheads trying to take advantage of her right now.”

“Is that what the hip kids are calling the Lighthouse Inn now? The LI?” Dad asks.

“Yup. Dare you to say it in front of the town elders.” I wiggle my eyebrows, trying to entice him.

He doesn’t fall for it. “And risk getting my ass handed to me? I’ll pass.” Stirring the pot again, he says, “Did Eve say why Eric didn’t come back?”

“Work, I guess. But I doubt that was the truth.”

Silence falls in the kitchen as a big pink elephant comes stomping into the small space, blowing his trunk and announcing his entrance.

The restaurant.

The failure.

The broken friendship.

The reason why Eric Roberts really isn’t back in Port Snow.

Because of me.

Mom clears her throat. “Have you spoken with him lately?”

I lift the bottle of water to my lips, stalling for a few seconds. “Nope.”

A year ago, my parents would have followed up my answer with encouragement to reach out to him, to mend the broken friendship. But by now they know it’s a lost cause, and they let my answer slowly float through the air.

“Well,” my mom says, taking some flour and tossing it on the center island. “Why don’t you help me make some biscuits then?”