Chapter 6
FREDDIE
I wake up to three things happening at once.
First, I manage to wake up an hour before my seven o’clock alarm, and as I stand the shell rolls off the nightstand and lands on my foot, hitting the exact center of my big toe with the precision of a guided missile, and I yelp loud enough a bird on the bird feeder outside the window flies away almost instantly.
"He texted us at midnight. That's romantic."
"It's not romantic," I say to it from the floor, where I'm cradling my foot. "It's logistics. Probably related to whatever is wrong with you.”
I check the time. Seven fifteen. Which gives me forty-five minutes to shower, get dressed, and walk into town looking like a functioning human who did not just have a seashell assault her in bed.
Yeah, sorry didn’t see this until now. I’ll meet you there.
Nothing about this morning is fine.
I stub my other toe on the bathroom door.
The shower runs cold for the first three minutes, then scalding, then cold again, like the plumbing is being operated by someone with a personal grudge.
I knock my coffee mug off the counter and it shatters—one of Dove's eclectic ones, of course—and I spend ten minutes cleaning up ceramic shards as the shell narrates from across the room.
"We're very clumsy today."
"I'm not clumsy. The universe is attacking me."
"Maybe we should wear better shoes."
I throw a sock at it. “You’re chattier than yesterday!”
As if on cue, it goes rather silent.
The walk into town is worse. I trip on a cobblestone that I swear was flat yesterday.
A seagull dive-bombs me and steals a piece of the granola bar I'm eating for breakfast because the mug situation derailed my breakfast plans.
I step in something wet that I refuse to identify.
My phone slips out of my hand twice, the second time landing screen-down on the pavement to add another crack in my screen protector.
A flower pot falls off a windowsill as I walk under it. Not onto me, though, missing by about two inches, shattering on the cobblestones right next to my foot. I stare at the broken terra cotta, the scattered soil, the poor little plant that did nothing wrong. I stand very still.
"That almost hit us."
"Yeah," I breathe. "I noticed."
"This seems like more than clumsiness."
For once, the shell and I agree on something.
“You have anything else to add that might help?”
Silence.
By the time I reach Rem's Café, a sweet little place with mismatched chairs and a chalkboard menu and windows that are open to the morning breeze, I am spiritually destroyed.
My hair is doing something I can't control.
I have one shoe that's slightly damp from the mystery puddle.
And I am vibrating with the particular anxiety of a woman who has been cosmically targeted.
But I'm here. On time. And, I peer through the window, he's already inside.
Liam is sitting at a corner table with his back to the wall, which feels very intentional. His silver hair is down today, loose past his shoulders, and he's wearing a dark henley with the sleeves pushed up, forearms on full display, tattoos catching the morning light.
"Those arms should be illegal.”
"Please, I'm begging you. Not today."
I push through the door, half expecting something to fall on me from the other side. I miraculously step in without issue, and Liam looks up. His expression does something complicated when he sees me. Something that starts as relief and then shifts when he takes in the state of me.
He nods to the seat across from him. “You look like you’ve had better mornings.”
“Oh, I’m so glad you noticed.” I drop into the chair across from him. "I've been awake for forty-five minutes and I've broken a mug, been attacked by a seagull, almost been killed by a flower pot, and I stepped in something gross. I’ve had better days.”
His brow furrows, but not with amusement. With something sharper. "When did it start?"
"When did what start?"
"The bad luck."
I blink. “I mean, I guess bad luck is one way to phrase it. It happened this morning, I think? When the shell dropped on my foot. And then just... everything. One thing after another. Like the town decided I personally offended it."
He's looking at me with an intensity that makes me forget about my damp shoe. "Was it like this yesterday?"
I think back. "No. Yesterday was fine. Weird, obviously, because of—" I gesture vaguely at my purse where the shell lives, "—all of that. But nothing was trying to hurt me."
His jaw tightens. He leans back in his chair and looks out the window, and I can see something working behind his eyes that I don't have access to.
"I ordered you a latte, by the way,” he says, which is not what I expected him to say. “It’s fine if you don’t drink it. There’s just some honey in it.”
My eyes widen a bit, the smell of coffee really getting to me. “Wow, thanks. I actually love honey lattes.”
His gaze moves back to me, a slight smile in his eyes. “I had a feeling.”
Just when the silence is getting a tad awkward, a barista comes over with two lattes, the foam perfectly decorative. I dive into mine almost right away, the warm strength of coffee mixing with a mild sweetness is the right way to deal with all this nonsense.
"Funny how nothing bad has happened since I sat down," I say, mostly to myself. “With how this morning was going, this should have been scalding hot.”
"Notice how when we're near him, it's safe."
I pause with the mug at my lips, sort of looking around because I’m still shocked no one else can hear that. Liam's eyes flick to my purse, and he almost looks apprehensive.
"The shell's not wrong," he says, quiet.
"What do you mean?"
He rubs the back of his neck, which somehow makes his arms more pronounced and I have to clear my throat to focus.
"After you left last night, I went into the ocean.
I felt Thalassa's energy in the current.
She was upset about something." He lowers his arm and lazily motions to me with his hand.
“You, specifically.” He says it flatly, like he's reporting the weather. "She texted me."
"Your sea witch ex texts you?"
“We all text,” he scoffs, but there’s not a harshness in his eyes. He pulls out his phone and slides it across the table. I read the message.
Hello, handsome. I’m aware there’s a new match… I saw it in the pearl. A little human, too! You might feel the desire to try and keep a distance with this one, but doing so means the moon window closes permanently. I’ll see you both at the Luminary.
I read it twice. "Her pearl?" I glance up. “This might be the romance writer in me, but that sounds like an innuendo.”
He raises a brow as he sips on his latte. “It’s just literally a large black pearl. Like crystal balls in the human world.” He sets his mug down and grins at me. “Maybe the shell was really reflecting what was coming across your mind.”
A blush threatens to bloom. “Okay, keep going… so she was watching me?”
"She's watching the shell. Which is on you. So, effectively, yes."
I set the phone down and take a very large sip of my latte. Then another one. Then I consider drinking the entire thing in one go and ordering a second. "Okay. So the sea witch can see me. And she added a new rule to the curse. And my terrible morning—"
"Is probably her energy. Bleeding through.
" He looks genuinely angry now, not at me, but at something much bigger.
His golden-brown eyes have gone hard, and his hands are flat on the table like he's keeping them there on purpose.
"When Thalassa is focused on someone, it manifests.
Bad luck, small accidents, things that seem random but aren't. She can't directly curse you, you're not bonded to her magic, but she can push energy your way.
Think of it like... a current. She's sending a riptide at you, and you're feeling the pull. "
I replay all the bad things happening to me and lean back in my seat, looking all around. “Great. Love that for me.”
“I had a small suspicion, and based on what you’ve said, and the shell, then you just need to stay near me.”
"His protectiveness is attractive.”
I close my eyes, but not before catching that he smiled. “I don’t think. I can get used to this.”
"The shell's right, though," Liam says carefully. "About being safe near me. My energy counteracts hers. Always has, ever since the curse. When you're close to me, her influence can't reach you as easily."
"That's very convenient for a man who needs me to kiss him on a full moon."
Something flickers in his expression, like he’s worried now. "I'm not making this up, Freddie."
Dove is absolutely hearing about this as soon as I leave. “So what does this mean? I just follow you around for three weeks like a duckling?"
He doesn't answer right away, and instead stares into his coffee for a while as if it might have the answer.
"Last night, after Thalassa's message, I started thinking." He pauses, glancing up at me periodically. "The shell has latched to thirteen people before you. Thalassa never once changed the rules for any of them. Never added a caveat, only to send messages every now and then when she seemed particularly jealous of one. She saw you in her pearl and immediately added a rule that says you can’t be far from me.” He looks up. “Which she would not say that unless she was compelled to. She doesn’t want anyone near me.”
"What are you saying?"
He takes a breath. "I'm saying the shell might be right about picking you. I can't confirm it, not until the full moon. But Thalassa is agitated and you said you dreamt about it.” He holds my gaze. "In thirteen matches, that’s never happened."
The café has some natural sounds around us, mostly of the machines being used and some chatter around us. I’m thankful for it, because I need this moment of silence.
“Can you be explicit in what your saying,” I state, gripping the mug tighter as my heart feels like it’s in my neck.
"You might actually be my soulmate.”
I swallow my spit like it’s cotton. “And the sea witch knows?”
"She suspects."
"And now she's trying to hurt me."
"Low-grade stuff. Testing boundaries. But yeah."
“Why would she text you to be close to me, then? You’d think she’d want us a continent apart.” To be honest, I can’t even wrap my head around this. But so far, the shell is real, and so was my terrible morning.
“I honestly have no idea—”
“The closer you bond, the more fragile my shell becomes.”
Liam seems to hold that thought for a while before raising his brows and nodding. “That sounds like something she’d add.”
“What if the shell breaks?” I ask, staring at my purse.
“Then his heart is forever gone.”
“Would be nice if you just answered all questions.”
Silence, again.
“That’s my heart you’re talking to,” Liam quips, and when I glance back at him, I can see he’s got a playful look in his eye. I give a weak laugh, as it clearly took me way too long to hear what he was saying, and now I’m embarrassed.
I sit back to take in the gravity of it all. I look at this absurdly beautiful, heartless merman who ordered me a latte, who is telling me his crazy ex-girlfriend is sending bad vibes at me through the ocean…
Who says I’m his soulmate… so that mean he’s mine?
“I’ll be honest, I can’t wrap my head around it,” I say, fidgeting with the mug, “So maybe we can just be near each other and pretend the other doesn’t exist, so the shell doesn’t break.”
He shrugs a bit. “Not the worst idea.” He tilts his head. “So where are you staying while here?”
That almost-smile again. "Dove's beach house."
“Oh, Dove?” He nods a bit, and those strong fingers manipulate his own mug. “So do you want to stay there, or with me?”
“Hot.”
I slowly inhale, trying my hardest not to laugh. “Pardon?”
“If bad things stopped happening while you were in here, I assume then that it means you have to be within a short distance of me. So staying together.” He holds a hand up.
“Listen, we don’t ever have to address the soulmate stuff.
I don’t even know how deep that seriously goes.
I can sleep on a couch, too. But we should be under the same roof. ”
I nod a bit. “Yeah, I should ask Dove, first. It’s a neutral ground, so might feel weird to live in your space. Also I want her to confirm this is all real.”
“Fair enough… I also should keep working at the bar. It looks the most natural. Word spreads quick here, and I don’t want more drama following you,” he says, and I can’t lie that something spreads in my stomach at the way he looks at me when he says that, like a few flaps of butterfly wings.
I blink rapidly for a moment. “Yeah, that’s easy. I can write while you work.”
He slowly inhales through his nose before scratching his chin. “Alright, Freddie… three weeks. We can figure this out for three weeks.”
“Oh, we’ll figure this out, alright.”
For once, I don’t glare at the bag or tell it to shut up, and instead get a little lost as I stare into his eyes.
What just happened to my life?