Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83358 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83358 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
What I saw boggled my mind. Yes, there were dozens of harsh comments, making it clear those people didn’t think I was good enough for Lucky. But beneath every one of those comments, as far as I could scroll, Lucky had replied to them.
Comment after comment, he called them on the carpet. Not in an angry way, and certainly not defensive, but he was calm and kind in his rebuttals, defending his choice in me. I nearly started crying, because no man has ever protected me like that. I scrolled and scrolled, watching him go to bat for me, and realized—he must’ve stayed up half the night doing it.
“What happens when the TikTok attention fades?” Eli asks, his tone casual, but his eyes flick between me and Lucky like he’s testing something.
I blink, realizing I’d drifted again—thinking about Lucky, about our morning coffee, about all of it.
Lucky doesn’t miss a beat. He shrugs lightly, calm and sure. “It’s not relevant to me.”
There’s a quiet beat around the table, then all eyes land on me.
I clear my throat, feeling the weight of honesty settle on my tongue. “I didn’t expect the attention to be this big. It’s been… more intense than I thought.”
And a hell of a lot meaner than I wanted.
Lucky leans back a little, arm draping over the back of my chair. “My content has always just been fun. A way to connect with fans, keep things light, show that I’m not a stat sheet or a press conference. It’s an outlet. But… it’s never been personal. Not the way it is for Winnie. Sure… she might get some laughs, but she’s real and honest in her content. She puts herself out there and I admire the hell out of it.”
The compliment stirs something deep within me. “Thank you for recognizing that.”
He glances around the table, something quiet but solid in his gaze as it lands back on me. “I didn’t think we’d be discussing this here in front of your family, but what the hell… I can be real. Meeting you through social media was the surprise. Not something I ever thought would be me. But once it happened… once we started doing this for real… I stopped thinking of it as content, stopped thinking it was an experiment and started thinking of it as a relationship.”
My mom sighs.
My breath also hitches slightly, caught off guard. “A relationship?”
Lucky’s lips curl, almost sheepish, but not apologetic. “Well, that’s what it is, isn’t it? I mean… it’s a dating relationship and who knows what else it will be.”
My pulse flutters. “Yeah,” I murmur, warmth blooming in my chest. “It is.”
“So,” he says, a little more relaxed now, eyes flicking to Eli, “if the internet disappears tomorrow, I’m still in this and not for the views.”
My brother looks like he wants to be skeptical, but he nods, his expression thoughtful. “Okay. Good answer.”
Beside him, Caleb lifts a brow but says nothing, while Sadie—blissfully unaware—pokes at a carrot on her plate and says, “I like him, Aunt Winnie. Can we keep him?”
The entire table laughs, but inside, something deep settles for me. Something certain.
“Well, we’re glad you brought him,” my mom says cheerfully, pushing back from the table. “Now, I made lemon meringue pie and brownies, because I couldn’t decide. Everyone go into the living room. Winnie, come help me plate.”
Lucky winks at me as he rises from the table and starts to grab plates. My mom slaps at his hand and connects, causing him to jerk back quickly with wide eyes. “You’re a guest. Go to the living room. I’m sure Caleb wants to threaten you some more.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Lucky chuckles.
As soon as we’re alone, she gives me a knowing look. “You like him.”
I snort. “Is that your motherly wisdom at work?”
“No. It’s the way you keep looking at him like you’re surprised he’s still here.”
I bite my lip. “I really do like him,” I admit, setting out forks. “More than I expected. More than I should, maybe.”
Her eyebrows draw inward. “You make it sound like that’s a problem.”
“It’s not a problem.” I sigh, as she turns to the fridge to pull out the pie. “We technically only have one more date in the experiment. And once that’s done, the pressure of making this public sort of goes away. I think we both need that. But then what? What if we step out of the spotlight and whatever this is… fizzles?”
Mom sets the pie down and pulls a knife from the drawer. “Sweetheart, if something fizzles that fast, it was never a fire to begin with.”
“I know,” I admit glumly because that’s my ultimate fear. That this wasn’t meant to be.
Mom sets the knife down and turns to me. “There’s no expiration date on something real. You don’t need a camera or a challenge or even a fifth date to keep it going. Just honesty. And a little courage.”