“Maybe you weren’t specific enough. He’s never made a mistake like that with me,” Tony says.
“Whatever. If I’d gotten any more specific, he’d be walking around with her description etched onto his ass.”
Yuna raises a hand. “I have a feeling about this girl. This is destiny.”
Ah, jeez. I should’ve known Yuna would go into this direction. She’s big on fate, soul mates and all that female stuff.
Tony snorts. “If it’s destiny, he should’ve known which one was the right one.”
“Well, I sort of did.” When I first saw Curie, I didn’t feel the same scalp-prickling sensation I had with Skittles.
“See? Your inevitable fate!” Yuna’s dark eyes are bright with delight.
I roll my eyes. “Destiny” is what brain-dead poets and novelists blabber about. That’s why I couldn’t major in English literature. I could tolerate only so much idiocy. “If it is destiny, she should fall in my lap.” And not after some far-off promotion. Destiny should jump me, legs spread and screaming, “Take me, make me yours!”
Yuna looks at me like I’m an unenlightened cave dweller. “I said destiny, not a free lunch. Heaven has no free lunch.”
What kind of heaven has no freebies? “Then what’s the difference between heaven and hell?”
“In heaven, you get to eat your cake after you earn it. In hell, you get nothing.”
“Riiiiight.”
“Work for this girl!” Yuna says. “Then you can marry and give me another nephew and niece to spoil.”
Holy mother of God. I almost choke over her enthusiasm. Babies? Yuna’s already counting babies? “Do you have names picked out for them, too?”
“Do you want some help? But your wife might feel strange about that.”
I cover my face with my hands. But my head—that fucking traitor—is imagining Skittles in a gorgeous white wedding gown…and holding a baby. Well, not at the same time, obviously. And the baby has her eyes and my hair. Instead of making me shudder and want to throw up, the idea is weirdly warming.
Must be a mild fever. Or maybe I’m a little dehydrated.
“I’m just kidding,” Yuna says. “But oooh, guess what I brought?” She turns to Ivy and Tony. “I went baby shopping and found the most adorable onesies…”
Chapter Eighteen
Pascal
All Saturday evening and Sunday, I felt like a jerk for not calling or texting back. It was a weird sensation, and it kept me restless. How do guys manage it?
On Monday morning, I tell myself I’ve been busy thinking about what Court said—about somebody sabotaging me. But for four years? I just can’t think of anybody who could’ve done it for that long without me noticing.
After the morning meeting, I notice a text from Curie. What’s she doing with her phone rather than enjoying her honeymoon? She still has almost a week left.
You’ve been holding out on me!
I cock an eyebrow. How so?
I saw Mom’s post. Your man sent her flowers.
He brought them on Saturday when he came for dinner.
Ha! Nope. See?
She sends me a screenshot of Mom’s Facebook post. A picture of daisies and a dog biscuit. Mom captioned it, “Sweet surprise this morning. My daughter’s date sent them to me, thanking me for the delightful dinner. I love it when people appreciate my cooking!” It’s followed by a bunch of hearts.
Totally like her to get excited about stuff like that, I think fondly. She loves her little herb garden in the back, but she also adores flowers of all types.