Page 30 of Fairy Godmothers Aren't Cheap

“Oh.” I nodded. “Okay.”

“And we broke up because…” He let out a long slow breath, scanning the parking lot over my shoulder as though searching for an appropriate answer.

“Because why?” He was driving me crazy. Yeah, yeah, he didn’t want to talk about it, obviously, but I had to know absolutely everything. Now.

“We weren’t…” He shrugged and shook his head like he couldn’t believe we were having this conversation, and he was afraid of scaring me. “We were good together.”

“That makes no sense, James.”

“Yeah, no. But we weren’tgreattogether. You know?”

It was clear he wasn’t well-versed at explaining his failed romance. Unlike women. By now, we’d have the elevator version which was a super quick life story of the romance that could be shared in less than a minute, and then the hours-long version which dissected every tiny nuance of the relationship, building up to the tear-jerking break-up. That version was best served with lots of wine or ice cream, depending on whether you wanted to nurture a bitter or wallowing mood.

“You broke it off?” I confirmed.

He nodded.

Wow.

He really did want the fairytale. He sure was going to be disappointed when he was eighty and realized he could have settled for ‘good enough’ half a century sooner. And that there’d been no reason for him to spend his life alone in his little love nest, waiting for Miss Perfect because she didn’t exist. Women were a hot mess of inconsistencies. We were perfect only in our ability to keep the world of men on their toes due to our whims of unpredictability.

“Why?” I asked.

“When I made future plans, I didn’t assume she’d be there with me, or that she’d want to be doing what I was. Or that she’d want to try doing different things. There was a plan, and it was fine, but it held no space for other things to flow in or out of our lives.”

I stared at him, fascinated. He really was the full meal deal with a side of fries. No, make that a poutine upgrade. When this guy married, it wouldn’t be due to some stupid, silly pledge between friends. He was holding out for a lightning strike: true love.

Wait. Something he’d said about space tickled a memory. What had Estelle told me earlier?Often, a granted wish creates space.

There was a ringing in my ears as I focused on James, trying to sort out the connection between Estelle, my earlier wish, his breakup, and the eerie sense of déjà vu that was sending shivers up my spine.

“You wanted space?” I asked carefully.

“Not like that,” he said with a testy edge.

“No, I know. I meant, like, for…serendipity?”

He nodded, his eyes lighting up like I’d hit on something he didn’t expect most people to understand.

I reconfigured this new information into my view of James. But I still couldn’t help but wonder if his words were somehow due to my earlier wish and Estelle’s belief in creating space. Or serendipity, as it was. Did James truly believe what he was saying? Were these his words to explain his breakup, or was he under a spell?

I shook off my thoughts. James had broken up with his fiancée years ago. Well before my stupid date-breaking wish. Estelle had really gotten into my head back there.

Assuming what she had done to him was real and not just a timely coincidence. A cosmic joke at my expense.

“You want kids?” I asked James.

“Yeah.”

“And she did, too?”

“Yeah.”

“How long were you together?”

“A while.” He placed his elbows on the table, dropping his arms so they were crossed along the table's edge.

“High school?”

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