Page 97 of The Cupid Chronicles

I stare at my phone, waiting for a reply. It doesn’t come.

He’s right. I’m not patient. I get out of the car, lock it, and walk toward the door.

My phone buzzes, and I freeze, expecting Matteo’s answer, but it’s a text from Joy.

Imight’vehovered outside Charles’s office during my free period trying to hear the outcome of her interview.

When his door opened and I heard the words, “We’re glad to have you on board, Mrs. Standish,” Imight’velet out a tiny little squeal.

As if I could be expected to contain my excitement over this. I gave Joy my number and told her we’d get together and go over everything she needs to know about working at Spring Brook.

Now, I stare down at the words on my screen, and once again, my eyes cloud over.

Joy

Iris, I can’t thank you enough for introducing me to Charles and encouraging me to take the interview. I haven’t thought about teaching for years, and I never would’ve applied without your prompting, but it’s the perfect place for me right now. I’ve been searching for a job for weeks, but everything I’ve found would require long stretches of time away from Alice, and I just can’t do that to her when things are so uncertain. Iris. You’re a lifesaver. I can’t thank you enough.

I smile. I sit, and I smile, and I feel warm and important and part of something bigger than me.

I tear up at the words as I read them for a second time, then text back:

Iris

I was so happy to help. And remember, if you have any questions, my door—and my phone—are always open. Let’s get together this week, and you’ve got a standing invitation to eat lunch with me. :)

Joy

I’m so nervous!

Iris

You’re going to be amazing!!

I click my phone off. I know Matteo won’t be as excited about this as I am, but this is a big deal! We actually helped make someone’s life better. How can he not see what a cool gift this is?

I hold my breath and knock on the door. When no one answers, I give it a tug, surprised to find it open. I’mexpecting chaos in the kitchen, but instead, I’m met with near-silence and an empty space.

It hits me then that it’s about a half an hour before they open.

Family dinner.

My body tenses, fight or flight, feeling like I’m somewhere I shouldn’t be. Like I’m searching through someone’s desk and they’re about to walk in and catch me.

I hear clinking dishes and the low hum of chatter coming from somewhere beyond the kitchen.

I don’t leave. I listen.

The muted laughter, the sharing of stories, the ease and familiarity—I wonder what it’s like to have people to eat dinner with every night. I let myself imagine it, and a wave of nostalgic loneliness washes over me.

Then, suddenly, the kitchen door swings open and Val walks in, freezing when she sees me.

“Oh! Shoot! Hi!” I try to make my voice sound as pleasant—and non-stalkery—as possible. “I’m so sorry, I was, uh . . . looking for Matteo, and I knew you were closed so I came in through the back. I tried texting, but?—”

She waves me off. “No response, right?”

I shrug.

“That man never has his phone.” Val shakes her head, then grabs a pan from the stove. “Have you eaten?”

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