Page 111 of The Fate Factor

But it doesn’t matter where or why she’s going because she’s going to be fine. I saw it in the way she was so unfazed by the breakdown that seemed so dangerous to me. I saw it in the way she referred to my deep-seated fear of love as me being “full of nerves.” Maybe you can’t truly have one without the other—true happiness without the risk of being gutted by it, and maybe what I’ve called recklessness all these years was her understanding that better than I did.

Either way, she’s not my circus anymore. Maybe she was never even my monkey. She could have been a better mom. That’s not negotiable. But we’re both adults now, and it’s time I start taking my responsibility for our dynamic. Taking back my space.

Last night when I finally fell into bed, exhausted and shocked that I’d just received some helpful advice from her of all people, I’d ached to call Jamie, hear his voice. Tell him all of the things I’d figured out about this magic.

But he was celebrating his launch event, an achievement that I’m not sure I have a right to be a part of until I fix this. Was I destined to screw it up and not be there with him or is this one of those opportunities I missed out on because I didn’t take what was right in front of me? I don’t think it matters. The result was the same. Me missing him.

The buzzing of my phone makes me jump and my pinky smudges the petals of the orchid I’m painting. I quickly dab it with a wet cloth, swiping open my screen with my free hand. I know I just promised to be the one to reach out and grab fate, but I can’t help but hope it’s Jamie doing it first.

It’s not, and the last thing I expect to see on a Sunday afternoon is Em’s name on my caller ID. I pick up the remote and silence the music I’d been using for company, half hoping it will stop ringing before I make a decision on whether or not to answer. I can’t fathom why she would want to talk to me right now. Sure, we were friends for a little while, but I didn’t expect to get to keep her if Jamie and I aren’t right, and I’m still working out how to fix us.

“Hi, Em,” I answer with my heart in my throat.

“Christmas,” she says. It’s cheery, if not a little strained by circumstance. “Are you free tonight? There’s a band I want to see downtown and Cara’s busy.”

“Oh. You didn’t want to ask Jamie?”

“One of us should be at Fortune,” she says. This feels like a non-answer, but I suppose she doesn’t owe me an explanation for where Jamie will be tonight.

There’s a part of me that’s hesitant to see Em before I see him, like I’m betraying him by spending time with his friends when I don’t know if he’ll accept my apology, but then I have to laugh at yet another opportunity landing in my lap. Almost like fate is looking at my little declaration and saying:prove it.

I want Em too. And Cara. And the house. I want this whole place and everything in it. Everything I thought was my destiny and I now know is my opportunity.

And this can be my practice yes before the big one.

“I want this,” I say, and then I realize that we’re talking about a few drinks and I’m being really weird about it. “I mean, I’m free. I’d love to.”

Em chuckles. “Nice. Meet me at Asylum at eight.”

“Okay. Hey, Em?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

There’s a beat of silence where neither of us know how to respond to what I’ve said. Finally, she says in a soft voice I haven’t heard from her before, “Everything’s gonna be okay, Christmas.”

She hangs up, and in what seems to be my new default, I burst into tears.

I walk into Asylum a few minutes before eight. The space is dark as soon as you get past the front door, blue lights lining the walkway to the stage area where the band Em wanted to see is setting up. There are a lot of people here and I didn’t make anexact plan about where to meet her, so I decide to hang at the bar in hopes she’ll head here first.

“What can I get you?” a guy in a T-shirt and black velvet vest behind the bar asks me.

I see one of Jamie’s beers on tap and awhomp, whomp, whompnoise sounds in my head. I’m such a sad sack.

“Fortune draft, please.” I hand him my card, and he takes it with a nod. A minute later there’s a pint glass perched on the edge in front of me. I take a deep pull of it to settle my nerves. I came here knowing I want this—to keep my friendship with Em—but I know it’s contingent on making things right with Jamie. This is a visitor’s pass. I’m definitely not a member here until I’ve earned it.

My eyes are on my phone when I feel the humidity build, a small crowd of people filling in the space to my left. I slide down to get out of the way and accidentally bump into a solid torso on the other side of me.

“Sorry,” I say, tearing my eyes away from my texts. “I didn’t— Jamie?” I blink up at him, and my heart launches into my throat. The light from the bar glows behind him like a halo, and I have the thought that maybe I manifested him by my constant looping Jamie Thoughts. Things like that don’t sound so crazy anymore.

But then he smiles, and I know he’s really standing here by the way his dimple strikes me square in the chest. “What’re you—”

“Shh.” He presses a finger to my lips, and I freeze. “Hi.”

I swallow. “Hi.”

He sticks his hand out and I stare at it, then him, then back to his hand.

---