Page 17 of The Cupid Chronicles

Nicola walks around to the side of the counter and lays a hand on mine.

I stop cutting.

It might be the first time someone else has touched me in months. It reminds me of what I’m missing. It reminds me how it felt to connect to another person. Even on a purely platonic level.

“It’s been six years, Matteo,” she says. “And I know Aria wouldn’t want you to spend the rest of your life miserable and alone.”

“Miserable?” I scoff.

She raises her eyebrows at me as if to say,I mean . . .

“I’m good, Nic,” I repeat. “I promise.”

“But—”

Enough. I can’t talk about this. A familiar mental gate slams shut.

“I said I’m good.” I cut her off with a stern look, pulling my hand back. “I need to get everything ready for lunch service.”

Her smile looks more like a wince as she nods, makes a fist, gently knocks it twice on the counter, then walks out of the kitchen.

Finally, I’m where the universe has decided I should be.

Alone.

Chapter Six

Iris

I didn’t tellBrooke and Liz about the newspaper.

They would’ve jumped at the chance to talk about magic and matchmaking and my so-called mystical building.

The problem is that I thought about it all day today.

As I sit in my car at a red light a couple blocks from home, I’m still a healthy mix of intrigued and freaked out.

I muddled through work, struggling to concentrate as I tried to find a reason for what I thought I saw that morning. Because if what I think I saw was what I actually saw, then Houston, we have a problem.

Either I’ve started hallucinating. Or my building really is magic.

Hallucinating is more likely, right? Concerning? Sure. But more likely. I’m sure my mind was playing tricks on me. One of my exes, a guy who called himselfAce, convinced me for months that he wasn’t cheating—I just had an overactive imagination.

Maybe that’s all this is.

Only . . . Ace reallywascheating. So, that theory doesn’t hold.

Normally, I stick around the school for at least an hour after the final bell, but today, I bolt like I am avoiding a behind-the-school fight. Ineedto see if the newspaper is still outside my door.

My leg starts bouncing in anticipation as I park my Toyota Corolla in the parking garage next to The Serendipity. If I get upstairs and that newspaper is still outside my door, I’ll march straight down to my grumpy neighbor’s apartment and demand an explanation.

How exactly will that go?

I tried to throw your newspaper, and it basically teleported back to my door. It only moves when I’m not looking, so what’s the deal?!

I groan. Here come the men in the little white coats, asking me to remain calm.

I only now notice that my leg is still bouncing. I put my hands on my knee to try to quell my obvious nervousness.

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