“Hey, it’s me,” said Alice. “Have a minute?”
“Actually, no. Can I call you back? I have a customer here.” Mari turned, as if she was going to leave, so I covered the phone with my hand. “Almost done,” I said to her.
“I’ll be quick,” Alice interjected. “It’s just that I won’t be able to make it tonight, but Liz will bring the drawings.”
The rushed, worried tone of my friend’s voice finally penetrated. I held a finger up to Mari to indicate I’d be a few more minutes, and then faced the wall for a little privacy. “What’s wrong?”
Alice drew in a breath. “Nothing.”
“Alice? It’s me you’re talking to. Did something else happen?”
“Not everything is about you, Chloe!” she snapped.
“That’s not even what I meant,” I said.
“I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.” A long, frustrated sigh poured out of her. “I can’t talk about this with you until I’ve talked with Ethan. Please don’t ask me any more about it.”
“Oh. Okay, then.” A blast of hurt surfaced. Sure, I understood that my role as Alice’s best friend now belonged to Ethan, though my relationship with her was still important. But even with this comprehension, I missed being the person Alice turned to first. “I’m here if you need me.”
“I know that, and thank you.”
We hung up. I pasted a smile on and turned back to Mari. Except she wasn’t standing in front of the counter any longer, and a perusal of the shop proved she hadn’t decided to browse. “Well, shit,” I murmured.
She’d surprised me twice now: once on her arrival and once on her departure. And honestly? Being alone in the store on a fairly regular basis meant that I never wanted to be taken unawares by folks strolling in and out. The fact I had been, more than the girl’s odd behavior, gave me the heebie-jeebies.
Striding to the front door, I tested the bell-like mechanism that was supposed to announce comings and goings. I swung the door open, and the bell rang just fine. Repeating my actions a half dozen times resulted likewise. It seemed I simply hadn’t heard her. Strange? Yes. Impossible? No.
“Better pay more attention, Chloe,” I muttered to myself. Once again, I grabbed the teen magazine and settled in for the last few hours of the workday. Thankfully, business picked up, and before too long there was at least one customer in the shop at all times.
Though whenever the bell rang, I’d stop midsentence or midactivity and look up, 100 percent expecting to see Mari. Of course, it was never her, and as the evening continued, my concern for her ebbed away. Instead, my thoughts drifted to Alice and whatever was going on with her, as well as to the three new drawings I’d yet to see. Thus far, I’d done fairly well at not obsessing over them. But now? Well, I wished I’d gone directly to Alice’s when she originally phoned.
My apprehension kicked up another notch as the last of the customers filed out of the store and Elizabeth and Verda appeared. I ushered the two women in, locked the front door and was all set to grab the cardboard tube clutched in Elizabeth’s hands when my gaze landed on Verda. Laughter burbled inside, so I squeezed my lips together.
“Was this done on purpose?” I asked, referring to her new do.
Verda nodded solemnly, but mischievous glints sparkled in her pale blue eyes. “What do you think? Be honest!”
Her hair, normally a gray-streaked white, now greatly resembled the interesting pale pink color of cotton candy. “It…” I searched for a compliment that wouldn’t be completely false. “…is certainly colorful! And…uh…bright!”
And really, it matched Verda’s fashion style to a tee. Today she wore lemon yellow slacks, a purple shirt, and glitter-speckled high-tops. So yeah, the pink hair was sort of like the cherry on top of a tutti-frutti sundae. “It suits you,” I said. “Truly.”
“Thank you, dear.” Preening, she patted her hair and then winked. “Verda needed a new groove.”
“Even better, the dye will wash out.” Elizabeth chuckled. “In case she decides pink isn’t the right groove for her.”
“I might try blue next time,” Verda confided. “Or maybe lavender.”
The laughter I’d barely held back erupted. “You’re awesome, Verda.” Interesting fashion choices or not, when I reached eighty-whatever years, I wanted to be just like her: confident, totally at ease with myself, ready to fight any demons necessary to safeguard those I loved. Or even just to make them laugh. “Thank you.”
“Whatever for?” Verda asked in an oh-so-innocent tone of voice. “All I did was give you something else to focus on, something you could laugh at. Besides, I’m old. Us old folks can get away with anything.” She winked again. “Even pink hair.”
Overcome by emotion, I whispered, “I love you.”
“Well, that’s good, dear. Because I love you too.” Stepping forward, she held out her arms. I walked into them and hugged her close. “We’re family. Don’t you ever forget it,” she said when we separated.
Nodding, feeling like an idiot for not recognizing the love around me sooner, I pivoted my head to hide my suddenly moist eyes, only to find Elizabeth wiping at hers. Reaching out, I clasped her hand and squeezed tight. A few minutes of perfectly balanced silence fell upon the room and we simply stood there, united as only family can be. It felt good. So good, I didn’t want to ruin it.
“Maybe I don’t have to look at those now,” I said, my gaze on the cardboard tube that held the three new drawings. “We should go to Alice and make sure she’s okay.”
“Alice is with Ethan and Rose, and they’re fine,” Elizabeth said. “If they weren’t, do you think Grandma and I would be here now? Do you think you’d be here now?”
“No, but—”
“Listen to me, Chloe,” Verda said firmly. “Those drawings hold information that Miranda feels you need. Don’t let fear stop you from understanding why.”
“She’s right. What would you have done differently if you’d seen the other picture earlier? Would you still have proposed to Kyle?” Elizabeth asked.
I knew she expected me to say no, but I honestly couldn’t. Nor could I say yes. I simply didn’t know. So much depended on the day, hour—hell, the very minute—I’d have come into contact with the original drawing.
But her point was clear, and Verda’s sensible, so I reluctantly accepted the cardboard cylinder. Without allowing myself a second to reconsider, I marched to the counter and flipped the plastic lid off. “Here goes nothing.” I tipped the tube so the paper-clipped and rolled-together pages fell out onto the glass surface.
Verda and Elizabeth approached from behind, each laying a comforting hand on my back, showing their support and love. Sweet of them, and I oh so very much appreciated the sentiment, but I didn’t react. Too much was at stake. Too much required my concentration.
Hesitantly, I touched the still rolled-up papers and removed the large paper clip, nearly expecting to be torn from this reality into one of these futures I hadn’t yet seen. But the floor remained solid, the walls didn’t spin and electrifying heat didn’t course through my body. Thank God for that. One skip through time was more than enough.
I unrolled the drawings but didn’t separate them. As soon as I lifted my hand, the pages immediately rolled together again. I bit my lip in frustration and repeated my action. This time, though, Elizabeth reached forward to hold the right side down, and Verda did the same with the left. Perspiration broke out on my forehead, and my skin grew clammy.
A little voice inside pleaded with me to close my eyes, turn around and run away. I’m not ashamed to admit that I almost gave in, but the stabilizing presence of Elizabeth and Verda bolstered my courage.
Tilting my head downward, I stared at the top picture, wondering if this was the first of the three Alice’s magic had shown her that morning, or if she’d just bundled them up in no particular order. Not that it mattered. What did matter, what I needed to pay attention to, was the future each drawing depicted. And this picture—this futur
e—held only two people: me and Kyle.
My hair hung slightly longer than I presently wore it, and we were sitting in the middle of a room I didn’t recognize. But the furniture in the room I did. Some of the pieces were mine and some of them were his. Wedding bands circled fingers on our left hands. Neither of our smiles reached our eyes, but we appeared at ease with each other and whatever life we were leading. A shudder of relief racked me, because I knew what this future represented: The one I’d already envisioned, the one I’d put into motion with my proposal. The one I’d already decided to turn away from.
I pushed the picture up so I could view the one beneath. My vision blurred with tears as I stared at possible future number two, because in this image I was completely, heart-breakingly alone. I stood somewhere in the dark, with only the faintest edge of light illuminating my face. There were no distinguishing features in the space around me to tell me if I was in a room, outside or hovering in some strange abyss. I didn’t like this future. I didn’t like the way it made me feel, and I really didn’t like the haunting misery I saw on this Chloe’s face.
Not able to handle the emotions that this drawing brought forth, I shoved it out of the way, unearthing the last drawing. My breathing eased and the strangling tightness in my chest loosened, because in this image, I was surrounded by others. Again, though, I stood in the center of a room, but all around me were the people I loved: Ethan, Alice and Rose were in one corner, Nate and Elizabeth in another. Verda and Miranda were there too. And while in this picture, I wasn’t completely alone, I wasn’t specifically with anyone, either.
I dragged the other two pictures apart, so I could see all three at once. My eyes flipped from one to the other, trying to understand what each one meant, and then trying to understand what they meant as a whole—if anything at all. The answer sat there, on the edge of my consciousness, forcing me to stare at each picture again, looking for something but not sure what. The crossroads, and me, standing in the center of it with four different paths to choose from, entered my mind in a dizzying rush.
“Elizabeth?” I said, my voice strangely calm, belying the frantic nerves jumping like grasshoppers in my gut. “The wedding picture is in the back room, in the top drawer of my desk. Can you get it, please?”
She didn’t bother with a reply, but I heard her footsteps as she raced through the shop and then back again. “Here.” She thrust the drawing into my grip.
I added the picture to the counter, so all four were in a neat little square. I soaked them in one at a time, looking for the clue that I knew was there. A crossroads. Four paths. Four futures.
But which path, which choice, led to which future? Finally, after what felt like forever, I saw the sign I’d been searching for. Or rather, I saw me.
In the three new drawings, the eyes of the Chloes staring back at me were, in all cases, flat and resigned, as if I’d given up on the world. Sure, the levels of desperation—sadness—differed slightly in each, the worst being the drawing in which I stood completely alone, the best with my family around me. And my future with Kyle? Solidly in the middle. Even so, they were eerily similar.
Or as Paige had so eloquently said the other day, all variations of the same endgame.
But in the wedding scene, standing next to Ben? My eyes were alight with love, happiness and excitement for a future that wasn’t shown in any of these drawings, a future that Alice’s magic hadn’t shown her: my life with Ben and whatever that might bring.
“Door number four,” I whispered. “I want door number four.”
The path that would lead me to this future seemed clear, and I’d already started the journey. Whatever doubts I’d had about spelling Ben—about compelling him to agree to a date—vanished in a blink. A delicious curl of anticipation brought a smile to my face and a fluttering in my stomach.
I couldn’t wait to see what would happen next.
Chapter Seven
How, exactly, does one dress for a breakup date, anyway? Common sense dictates the obvious: nothing too sexy or revealing, nothing too flamboyant or bright and certainly nothing that might bring to mind any previous romantic encounters. Because you know, putting those thoughts into the head of the breakupee would only lead to disaster. Or at the very least, an uncomfortable moment or two.
Scowling at my reflection in the mirror, I confronted the truth I’d thus far avoided, and it had zero to do with what clothes covered my body. I hated hurting Kyle so much that I’d battled queasiness all day. Now, with his arrival imminent, I wished I’d listened to Elizabeth in the first place and allowed my relationship with Kyle to progress—or end—naturally. But I hadn’t listened, and the responsibility for the fallout rested solidly on my shoulders. Or in this case, swirling in my stomach.
Another glance at my reflection convinced me that the jeans and T-shirt I wore were perfectly acceptable for a variety of situations, including breaking up with someone I still cared a great deal for. But my cheeks were a smidge too pale, and the dark circles under my eyes clearly broadcast my fatigue. Hurriedly I applied a thin sheen of cosmetics, just enough to put me in the living and breathing category, and then I retreated to the living room.
Maybe if I thought about Ben and our date the following day I’d be able to calm down. When I left his office, we’d set the day and time but not the actual activity. I figured by his suggestion of an early meeting that his plan was likely a quick cup of coffee, perhaps breakfast, and that would be that. But I had other ideas. That was why I’d insisted on picking him up, so what we did was in my control.
Three sharp knocks sounded, interrupting my thoughts. I sat up straighter, my eyes on the door. My queasiness spiked, reminding me that tonight wasn’t about Ben. It was about Kyle. It was about us. The door opened and Kyle stepped inside, smiling as he entered the living room.
I returned the smile and patted the space beside me on the sofa. Dropping down next to me, he rested his head against the cushion and closed his eyes with a sigh. “Hey, babe. Am I glad to be here.”
“Hey, yourself.” I watched him warily, remembering how comfortable we were with each other. As little as a week ago, I’d have scooted closer and given him a kiss. I might have laid my cheek against his chest and chatted, or I might have rubbed his shoulders to help him unwind. But I couldn’t do any of these things. Not anymore.
Sliding to the side slightly, to put a bit more breathing room in between us, I kept my voice on an even keel and started with a general, if boring, topic. “How was your flight?”
“They didn’t lose my luggage.” He opened his eyes. “And the plane didn’t crash, as you can see.”
“Well, you’re home now.” I touched his knee, skimming my hand up and down his leg in comfort—an old habit, and at first I wasn’t even aware of what I was doing. But when his hand caught mine, panic welled into a nearly bursting bubble in my chest.
Shifting forward, he kissed me lightly on the nose. I gasped and pulled away, removing my hand from his. He stared at me in question. “Is something wrong, Chloe?”
I didn’t—couldn’t—reply. An awkward quiet lurched between us, tainting the air with unease.
“Kyle…”
He held his hands up, stopping me. Which made me think that maybe, just maybe, he’d had second thoughts all on his own. Maybe he was planning on breaking up with me? I grabbed the throw pillow from my left side, clenching it in my lap, squeezing the dang thing so hard that my knuckles turned pink.
Reaching over, he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “We need to talk, babe.”
Oh, my God, I was right. Relief filled me. But also, somewhere deep inside, was an old hurt. “It’s okay, Kyle,” I began again. “There are things—”
“Let me get this out first. Cool?” At my nod, he continued. “I owe you an apology. When you suggested marriage, I was taken off guard.” Red blotchy circles appeared on his cheeks. “But I have to tell you…It’s important that you know…I came here that night seriously thinking about endin
g our relationship.”
Somehow, this didn’t come as a surprise. Maybe it should have. Maybe another woman would have cried. But at that moment, I was absolutely calm. “I’m glad we’re being honest with each other. We haven’t been for a long time, have we?”
“I just thought you should know—”
Before he could continue, I took over, wanting to save him from as much discomfort as possible. “It was awfully quick, and I shouldn’t have put you on the spot like that. Especially in front of Verda and Alice. I’m the one who should be apologizing.” I gulped a breath before forging onward. “So I totally get that you want to back out now. Really, it’s okay.”
I was about to give him my rehearsed speech, but he surprised me again. Lacing his fingers into my hair, he cradled my head. “No, babe. You got it wrong. I wasn’t sure about ending things. I planned on getting your take on it. But then you proposed, and I can’t explain it, but something flicked in my brain like a light switch. I saw that what we have is good.”
“But”—I fought for words, for comprehension—“you haven’t seemed happy.”
He laid another kiss on me, this time on my forehead. “I gave this a lot of thought while I was gone. Like I said I would. And I’m ready to comm—”
“Stop!” I jumped off the couch, feeling cornered, the pillow falling to the floor. “Don’t say it. Please. Just…stop.”
A confused haze flitted over his features. He picked up the pillow and replaced it on the sofa. “What am I missing, here? I thought you wanted me to pick a date for our wedding.”
“I did. But Kyle…” I forced the image of Ben into my mind. “We can’t get married.” Instantly, I winced. “God, I’m sorry. Let me explain.”
His confusion increased. Bolting from the couch, he paced the room. Suddenly, he stopped and faced me. “Is this about before? About Shelby?”
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