Chapter 20
March
Five Weeks Until The Wedding
I pull up my phone and scroll back to the picture of Ruby’s scrawled fortune. Trip lounges on my couch, still only in boxers, one hand on the back of the couch, the other massaging his temples.
“Yes, okay. This is it!” I zoom in on the text. “Only their union will settle the suit. Should a Coldwell heart wed the Carmichael diamonds. Bridge the divide and the curse will unlatch. These are all playing card references.”
Trip presses his fingertips into his eye sockets. “I don’t know, Elz. It’s a stretch, don’t you think?”
Legs spread wide, he takes up my entire sofa. The only spot left for me would be in his lap. Not what I need to be thinking about right now. I pace and twist the chain around my neck.
“Any ideas about what the deal gone awry is referring to?”
“No.” He sighs, and every one of his stomach muscles expands and contracts with the motion. It suddenly feels stifling in the apartment.
“I need to walk. Get some fresh air.” I shrug my T-shirt back on and pull on my sweatpants. “You can come with me or not, but I need to think this through, to explore this idea.”
“I think we were about to explore a few very interesting ideas.” He sits forward, forearms braced on his knees, and turns his palms upward. “What do you need me to do?”
“Nothing just yet. Give me some time and I might have a way to get you out of that coma.”
A pair of black joggers, a soft-looking gray hoodie, and sneakers materialize on Trip’s body.
I scrunch my nose. “That’s not what you were wearing earlier.”
He stands and rubs his oversize palms on his thighs. “You said a walk, right?”
—
Outside, the evening air is crisp. It’s a jarring contrast from the heat in my apartment, the way beads of sweat formed on my skin at Trip’s closeness.
From what we almost did. What did we almost do, anyway?
I’m not even sure what’s physically possible between a living person and a spirit.
I do know, however, that I miscalculated by wearing only a T-shirt outside.
I rub the goose bumps off my biceps for the seventh time in three blocks.
Trip looks at me with concern in his eyes. “I’d give you my sweatshirt, but…”
“I’m fine.” I lower my arms even as the chill rips through the cotton of my shirt.
He gives me a look that says he knows I most definitely am not fine. “Maybe we could step inside somewhere. Go back to your apartment and resume the game?” The corner of his mouth tugs upward.
“Not now. I’m on the brink of a breakthrough.”
“Ahh. Is that what it is? Looks more like hypothermia.”
Smartass. “It’d go faster if I could talk through it.”
“Try me.” Trip sticks his hands in his pockets.
“So, there are two possible paths. Obviously, the first one, where we pursue some lost diamond that might be locked away in some chest that Sabrina might have the key to.”
“She does.”
“Okay, but. The wedding is weeks away and we’re still operating on a lot of unknowns. Sabrina hadn’t even heard of a family diamond, and she never mentioned it to you when you were…” I clear my throat. “Maybe we need to diversify our options.”
“How very Wall Street of you.”
“So, for the second option. The fortune says, ‘Should a Coldwell heart wed the Carmichael diamonds.’ I thought that meant Carter and Sabrina, but maybe we need to unite the cards of two different decks.” I scratch my forehead. “Does it sound crazy?”
“Yes.”
I try to elbow him and accidentally knock some leaves off a nearby tree.
“Let me just put the pieces together.” I stop walking and chew on my thumbnail.
“The words would suggest the card deck belongs to the Carmichaels but would be missing a heart—to be supplied by the Coldwell family—and a diamond. All in all, we’d be looking for two cards. ”
“And said deck.”
“True.” I deflate a bit at the thought. There are still so many missing pieces, and all of this is just as much conjecture as our original plan.
“So, we pursue both,” Trip says. “You continue to poke Sabrina for information about all of it.”
“And you continue to stalk her,” I tease.
“I’ll see what else I can do.” He looks up at the sky. “There have to be some other ways I can use my ability to break and enter without getting caught.”
“We’re close, Trip, I can feel it.” I lower my eyes, unable to meet his. “Maybe we can give you a second chance.”
His palm moves under my chin, as though to lift it, and in response, I tilt my head up.
The streetlights glow amber in the early evening light and a light breeze blows pieces of my hair in soft caresses against my face.
Trip’s eyes are warm, brimming with emotion—with all the things we’ve left unsaid.
Which makes the next thing I need to say hurt even more.
“There is one major difference if I’m right about the card idea.
” I tug at my shirt. “It means Carter and Sabrina getting married isn’t required to break the curse.
” My stomach clenches. Why? Isn’t this everything I should want?
Carter can live a curse-free life and he doesn’t need to marry someone else. It’s a win-win scenario.
“Ah. I see the appeal, then.” The line of Trip’s mouth and the tension of his jaw indicate there is nothing appealing whatsoever about this. He walks down the sidewalk and I follow after him.
If this leaves Sabrina unattached, maybe it could also provide a second chance for her and Trip.
I swallow down the knot that forms in my throat.
Trip and I have an attraction—possibly more—but it likely has more to do with the fact that I’m the only person he can interact with than anything else.
The man has been practically isolated for a year.
And for me? Maybe it’s just nice to have a companion.
Someone who I can be myself around without fear of embarrassment.
After all, who is he going to tell? But then there’s the way his nose pressed to mine, the way he cupped my neck and looked at me like I had answered his prayers, like he would get on his knees for me.
Another shiver races down my spine and I cross my arms over my chest.
“That’s it.” Trip steers me toward the nearest storefront.
It’s a hole-in-the-wall pizza shop with neon signs.
I step through the door and it is mercifully, wonderfully hot.
Smells of yeast, cheese, and grease waft from the other side of the single counter.
The linoleum floor is chipped and the barstools facing the window look like they’ve seen better days. It’s perfect.
“When’s the last time you ate?” Trip asks.
“Um…not for a while, I guess. The bridal shower?” Which was this morning. My stomach growls as I inhale the shop aroma.
“That’s my mistake.” His voice is gruff, and he scratches his jaw. “I forget sometimes…you know.”
“It’s not your responsibility to make sure I’m fed.”
“No, it’s my privilege.”
I crane my neck up at him. “Who says things like that?”
He chuckles and places a hand at my lower back, ushering me forward. “Just order something, Elz.”
I stumble toward the counter and place my order with a large man wearing a hair net.
“Slow day.” He rings me up at the cash register.
“I see that. Are we—I mean—am I your only customer?”
He gives me a skeptical look. I grab my slice of cheese and suck down some Coke before I can put my foot in my mouth again.
I choose a spot at the bar by the window, conveniently facing away from the counter.
Reaching in my pocket, I pull out my earbuds and pop them in so if Trip and I want to talk, I won’t look like a psycho.
The slice is large and thin, and I need to fold it in two to hold in the melty cheese.
Spots of grease drip down onto my paper plate.
I take my first bite, close my eyes, and groan.
The warmth, the mozzarella. It’s heaven.
When I open my eyes, Trip is seated on the stool next to me, head propped in his hand. He has a grin a mile wide.
I cover my mouth with my hand. “Sorry. This is probably so rude of me.”
“Nah, don’t worry about it. I enjoy this.”
“Do you miss it? Two-dollar slices?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever had one.”
The pizza sticks in my throat. “You’ve never had a cheap slice of pizza? That’s, like—quintessential New York.”
He shakes his head.
“Okay, what about a halal cart?”
“What about it?”
I set my soda on the counter a bit too aggressively. “Trip Coldwell, are you telling me you’ve never eaten from a halal cart? Never just been, I don’t know, hungry in the middle of a walk somewhere and stopped for a bite.”
“I don’t walk many places.”
“Wow.” I shake my head. “You’re so lucky you have me. To show you the real New York.” I slurp my soda. “Okay, but whatever your favorite foods were. Do you miss it? Being able to taste things?”
His eyes shift to my lips. “Yes.”
I grab my soda and sip from the straw, trying to cool the blush rising to my cheeks. Trip’s eyes stay glued to my mouth with the same animalistic quality they had in my apartment.
His gaze breaks and he meets my eyes. “So what will you do?”
“What do you mean?” It’s a stupid question. I’ve been asking myself the same thing from the moment I saw the cards lying on the floor.
“If you’re right and Carter is no longer bound to Sabrina. At least not in any curse-related sense.”
I slurp my soda. “It doesn’t change that they’re set to be married in a few weeks.” I pause. “Do you think they love each other? Do you still believe this marriage was forced on them because of the curse?”
Trip strokes his jaw. “I have my suspicions. My grandfather nearly forced it on me, after all.”
I exhale. There’s even more intel I need to gather. I haven’t spent that much time digging into the history of Sabrina and Carter’s relationship with either of them.
“What will you do?” If you come back.
“You’re seriously asking me that question?”
I nod and take another bite of pizza.
“Let me ask you a question, Elz. What do you think all that was back at your apartment?”
My face heats but I fix my expression and shrug. “Mutual attraction. A convenient situation. I’m the only person you can interact with, and you probably haven’t been”—I clear my throat—“touched in almost a year. It was all just a product of pent-up libido.”
He huffs a laugh. “Pent-up libido. Is that really what you think?”
I wipe my face with a napkin, crumple it into a ball, and push it to the side of my plate. “I’m just saying if you do come out of this, all of this”—I wave my hands between the two of us—“could go away. I wouldn’t blame you for it. You’d have a second chance with Sabrina.”
Trip stares at me. Two lines crease between his eyebrows. It lasts several seconds, and I get the feeling he’s studying me.
“What? Do I have pizza on my face or something?” I grab the napkin from my plate.
“No.” He leans into me.
“What, then?”
“It’s just—I love how your mind works. You’re smart enough to single-handedly solve this whole curse issue. Certainly don’t need me. But sometimes I seriously question your logic.”
I roll my eyes and take another bite.
“I’ve told you. I’m not interested in Sabrina.”
“Why not? She’s perfect.” And truly she is.
Beautiful, kind, generous, funny. The more I learn about Sabrina, the harder it is to believe that anyone wouldn’t be in awe of her.
If Sabrina is a beautiful cashmere sweater, I’m the comfy sweatshirt you throw on at the end of the workday.
Sure, I love my comfort crewneck as much as the next person, but there’s no denying cashmere is a different level altogether.
Trip runs a hand over his face. “We didn’t work out for a lot of reasons.”
“But why not? Maybe if you gave it—”
“Is there a reason you’re pushing this so hard?
” His eyes study me. “Like if you push me toward Sabrina then it won’t—” He sighs and drops his head.
“I can admire a lot of things about her, acknowledge that she is a good friend, and still admit that we weren’t right for each other.
We wouldn’t have—didn’t make each other happy. ”
I take another sip of Coke. “I’m just saying, wait and see. Things can change.”
He lays his hand on top of mine, and I look down at the countertop where they merge.
“Is it so hard for you to believe that someone would choose you?” Trip’s eyes are earnest, his voice low even though I’m the only one who can hear him.
I fold the plate up, readying it for the trash can, and meet his eyes. “No one ever has.”