Chapter One #2
That could mean anything. May was a makeup and hair stylist who worked for Elegancia, a somewhat pricey event planning company.
They took on everything from bar mitzvahs to weddings to corporate fundraisers.
If the mystery man she was supposedly destined to meet wore a suit for a living, he might be part of a fundraiser.
Or he could be at a cousin’s wedding, a niece’s bat mitzvah.
It was so open-ended, and it left a lot of wiggle room for the supposed psychic.
Emmy wanted to say all this out loud, but her sister was flying high on caffeine and dirty Tarot cards.
It seemed wrong to drag her back down to Earth.
They finished their coffee, made small talk about work, laughed about something their father had texted them.
It was all perfectly normal. Emmy hoped her sister would be able to hold onto her optimistic and sunny attitude when Mr. Perfect failed to show his face.
A part of her hated this stupid psychic for setting May up for such a huge disappointment, but Emmy reminded herself May was an adult and would be able to live with the consequences of her own actions.
One month, two weeks, and six days later (May had absolutely counted), May’s boss, Ando, decided the company was ready to take on an online marketing campaign to advertise within the Twin Cities as well as farther out into North Dakota and Wisconsin.
They took May and a few other coworkers to an ad agency where they had scheduled a meeting with three people who wore suits to work every day.
One of those three people was Victor Coronado, a witty, intelligent, determined man who didn’t let May leave the building without his phone number.
Emmy still refused to believe in psychics.
*
By the time May finished telling the story of how she’d come to meet and fall in love with Victor, her audience was rapt. A chorus of “awws” followed the conclusion, and Emmy forced her eyes to hold still, though they ached to roll.
“Emmy, you look like you swallowed a lemon wedge,” May noted with a giggle. “Your superpower is being able to remain skeptical in the face of incontrovertible proof.”
“Seriously,” said Sheila, May’s best friend and coworker. “What was this place called? I’m tempted to go check it out.”
“It’s called Meet Cute,” May supplied. “But I thought you were still going strong with Danielle?”
“Going strong and banging like hammers, but that doesn’t mean I couldn’t use a psychic reading on our sexual health. Or a new dildo.”
This was met with a combination of high-pitched laughter and clinking glasses as the women toasted to all things sex. Emmy smiled and shook her head, squeezing Sarah’s hand when she sensed her friend was about to make a comment.
“I’ll tell you my side of it later,” she said under her breath.
“Good. Because I have a lot of questions.”
The night was still young for many of the partygoers, but Emmy noted the time and sighed. She hated to leave—or rather, she knew May would hate for her to leave—but it was getting late.
“You’re going?” May asked when she saw Emmy nudge Sarah and get to her feet.
“If I stayed, I’d just rain on your sex psychic parade,” Emmy pointed out with a self-deprecating smile. “Besides, I have work tomorrow.”
“You’re working on Sunday?” one of May’s friends asked, aghast.
“I’m a concierge. They don’t always ask me to work weekends, but I fill in when I can.
Anyway, this was super fun. I can’t wait for next week!
” This last part was said with genuine feeling, and Emmy followed it with a long hug for her sister.
“I’m so glad you’re happy,” she whispered.
“Going to be the best wedding ever. I’ll talk to you later. ”
“Thanks for coming, sweets.”
Emmy and Sarah said goodbye—they’d carpooled since they lived so close to each other—and made their way out to Sarah’s car. Her friend had volunteered to be the designated driver so Emmy could cut loose a little at her sister’s party. As soon as they were buckled in, the questions started.
“Your sister really thinks she met her fiancé because of a novelty deck of Tarot cards?”
“Yes.”
Sarah shook her head. “She is literally the happiest person I’ve ever met, and she believes in fairy tales. Sometimes I wonder how she can be that sweet without ever being obnoxious. But she just… isn’t. It’s a mystery.”
“If I ever figure out the answer, I’ll let you know.”
“Have you been to this sex psychic place?”
Emmy snorted in response.
“You’re not tempted at all?” Sarah asked.
“I’m good. Me and romance aren’t talking right now.”
Sarah winced. “Oops. Can’t even blame the wine for shoving my foot in my mouth. I only had one glass all night.”
Emmy waved away her concern. “It’s fine. I’m mostly over it. Just not looking to ask fate to send me another guy yet.”
“I can understand that. It’s good that May’s happy with her guy, and that’s enough for me.”
“Yeah.” Emmy smiled a little wistfully. “Me, too.”
*
Emmy put on her beloved comfy pants as soon as she was back in her apartment.
She paired them with a loose t-shirt, then went about the soothing routine of checking on her plants.
The window boxes had been one of her first purchases when she’d moved in.
One day, she told herself, she’d have a house with a real garden that she could play around in.
For now, she tested the dampness of the soil and satisfied herself that the light rain they’d had a couple days back had been sufficient to keep the brightly colored pansies feeling happy and healthy.
She’d done the arrangement herself and thought they looked bright and inviting.
Pansies had always been a personal favorite.
Back inside, she checked on her snake plant, which she affectionately called Sir Hiss.
It probably wouldn’t need water for weeks yet, but she liked to run her fingers over the waxy leaves.
Her peace lily got a sip of water, as did the little thicket of bamboo in the handmade ceramic pot that May had gotten her for her last birthday.
Satisfied that all her plants were thriving, she flopped back in bed.
Her ears soaked in the sweet silence of her apartment, and her boobs breathed twin sighs of relief at having been released from the confines of the torture device known as the strapless bra.
Of course, with the silence came the worries that had stayed buried under a pile of drunken chatter for the past several hours.
If this marriage didn’t work out… but no, that thought was too cynical even for her.
Emmy resolutely pushed it away, blinked back unexpected tears, breathed deep.
She knew Victor well enough by now, and he was great.
She could admit to herself that he matched the description Sex Psychic Lucy had provided all those months ago, but that was hardly proof of ESP.
Plenty of people fit those characteristics.
She was beginning to drift off into a post-party coma when her phone lit up.
May was calling. Was something wrong? They’d only left the party a half hour ago. She hit answer.
“What’s up?”
“Hey, I have a favor to ask you.”
Emmy could hear the murmur of the bar in the background, so May was clearly still at her party. In the bathroom maybe. “What favor?”
“Go see Lucy.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I’m really not. Monday is your day off, right? Go into the Cities and talk to her. Tell her I sent you. I bet she’ll remember me. You could at least do me a solid and tell her about Victor, thank her for me.”
“May, listen…”
“No. I don’t have time to listen to all your reasons why you won’t do this one harmless thing.
I have to get back before my friends get worried that I’m throwing up or having a meltdown or something.
Just go. You can be there and back in a couple hours.
If she tries to charge you a ton of money, you can walk right back out.
But you need to do this. You need to remember what it’s like to have fun and be a little reckless. Maybe…”
“Maybe what?”
May’s sigh came through loud and clear. “Maybe you need to do something like this for, you know… closure. A symbolic gesture to prove you’re really done with The Asshole. It could be… cleansing.”
Emmy highly doubted that, but she decided this wasn’t worth an argument.
She didn’t have to go. Though she didn’t make a habit of lying to her sister, she could easily say she went, make up a story about how her dream dude was right around the corner with an engagement ring and an enormous box of chocolates.
That would make May happy and save her the gas money it would take to drive all the way into Minneapolis.
“Fine. I’ll go on Monday.”
“Yes! Thank you! I love you!”
“Yeah yeah.”
After they hung up, Emmy brushed her teeth, then grabbed a book off her nightstand.
It was a romantic thriller she’d read before, but sometimes she just needed to escape into a world where good was guaranteed to prevail over evil.
Reading novels where characters existed in a wholly just world, where evil got its comeuppance and heroes ended up married…
Well, it made her understand why Shakespeare’s comedies had been so successful. The formula still worked.
She fell asleep reading, as she often did, and dreamed of ridiculous nonsense that successfully wiped all thoughts of romance and happily ever afters—or lack thereof—from her mind.