Moonstone: Gems of Wolfe Island One

Luke smiles too. A huge and happy grin that splits his handsome face. “Damn, you’re beautiful. You should smile like that more often.”

As if he waved a magic wand, my forced smile becomes a real smile.

“Maybe I will,” I say coyly.

And I already know I will, as long as Luke is in my life.

18

Luke

We walk, not touching in any way but still close together, through the streets of Manhattan. People glide past us briskly. Everyone’s always in such a hurry in New York. I miss that about LA. It’s much more casual there.

But there are many more things I don’t miss.

My old life, for one.

Man, I was a mess.

I have lots of red on my ledger, but there’s nothing I can do about it now. I can never return to LA.

My hand brushes Katelyn’s, and sparks ignite across my skin. Just that simple touch of our pinkies.

I brush against her again, and this time, she—she—clasps her pinky around my own.

Pinkies entwined. Just our fucking pinkies. And I’m elated. Totally elated.

I promised myself. Promised myself I wouldn’t get involved with a woman so soon. Not after…

The injury to my shoulder aches. Nothing I can’t handle. Just a dull ache. It happens when I think about my previous life. When I dwell on what I was.

People can change. I know that now.

Everything I’ve done in my life has brought me to this place. Here. With Katelyn. Our pinkies entwined.

Was it worth it? I harmed so many…

One of my favorite pizza vendors is in the distance. “Sure I can’t tempt you with a slice?” I ask.

“Maybe,” she says. “But those New York pizza slices are so big.”

“True. You fold them over and make your own calzone.”

She giggles softly. “They’re easier to eat that way, but they’re still huge.”

“True enough.” We reach the vendor. “Hey, Sly.”

“Good to see you!” That’s what Sly always says.

He’s here at his pizza stand from noon to nine each day, selling slices of the best pizza I’ve ever tasted out of his truck. I’m not sure he knows my name or anyone’s. But it’s always “good to see you!”

“You too. Two pepperoni slices.”

“You got it.” He pulls the slices onto tissue. Already the grease has saturated the paper. Good stuff.

“I’ll never be able to eat all of that,” Katelyn says.

“Sure you can.” Sly winks. “Never met any New Yorker who couldn’t put away a slice of Sly’s. Even the skinniest models.”

“I guess we’ll see.” I hand Katelyn her slice, grab about twenty napkins—and I’m still not sure that will be enough—and then pay Sly. “Thanks, man.”

“Anytime, anytime.”

Holding our pizza, we walk to a bench and take a seat. I push several napkins into Katelyn’s hands while oil drips from the tissue paper. “Careful. You don’t want to get grease on your clothes.

She takes the napkins and arranges them around her slice. “I’ll never eat all of this. I’m not even hungry. Remember?”

But I see the tell. She closes her eyes and inhales. The sweet zing of the tomato sauce and the spicy garlic, the cheese, the fresh bread.

Yeah, she’s going to eat.

I take a bite, and—

“Ach! Careful. It’s hot.” I chew quickly and swallow. “I’d wait a minute.”

“It doesn’t feel hot in my hand.”

“It’s hot in my mouth. I think I burned off a layer of my tongue.”

She laughs.

“Is that funny?”

“No. Just the way you say it. I like laughing with you. Is that weird?”

“Not in the slightest. I like to hear you laugh. It’s an amazing, joyful sound.”

“Is it? For a while, I didn’t laugh much.”

I’m not surprised. Katelyn has a backstory. I’m convinced of it. And not all of it is pretty. Hell, my backstory sucks too. Maybe we’re meant for each other. Maybe she can handle my baggage and I can handle hers.

Or maybe we can just enjoy a slice of New York’s finest and then entwine our pinkies again.

Odd that I can get more out of pinky touching with Katelyn than I got out of my last relationship.

And man, I thought I was in love. I thought she was the one.

I was wrong.

But it wasn’t her fault. It was my own. I didn’t know what I wanted or how to get it.

I was fucked up.

I can blame my parents, my childhood, my circumstances.

But I don’t.

Not anymore.

I want to be better. I want to be worthy.

I want to deserve this woman sitting next to me.

Someday, perhaps, I will.

I take another bite. This one is hot but not scalding. And delicious. “Try it now,” I say after swallowing.

Katelyn takes a tentative bite of her pizza that’s she’s folded over like an expert. Her eyes widen.

“Good?”

She nods enthusiastically as she chews and swallows. “Oh my God, it’s amazing!”

“Told you.”

I finish my slice in record time, and Katelyn manages to eat most of hers. When she hands me what’s left—mostly crust—I polish that off too.