Page 93 of The Fate Factor

Jamie pokes my stomach, and I kick it open with a little, “Tada.”

After I finished moving my clothes to Nana’s dresser, I went to Target and bought a new pot for the kalanchoe Jamie bought me. It’s on the window ledge, getting the correct amount of sun. I got rid of the guest basket and Maine guide books on the bookcase, and gave it a coat of paint. Finally, I dragged my biggest purchase in from the car, a gorgeous floral print rug, and fit it in the middle of the room.

Then I sat on it criss-cross and cried hard and ugly. But I wasn’t sad the way I thought I would be when I finally opened this room up and saw for myself how empty it was. I was relieved that I suddenly knew exactly how to fill it up. I was emotional in a good way. And I was really proud of myself for the way I let myself feel every ounce of it.

It doesn’t feel wrong anymore, to be here without her. It feels like stepping into the future. I have the visions to thank for that.

And Jamie. I turn to him, watching as he drags a finger over the bookcase, then sits on the bed. “You kept hitting your head,” I remind him. “Upstairs.”

“Noel…” As usual, he doesn’t want to take credit but I’m giving it.

I sit down beside him. “Jamie, you and I don’t fit in the loft, and you and I are so much of this place. What it is now instead of what it was.”

He closes his eyes, pressing a long kiss to my forehead, and I can feel the way this settles something in him. “I would have helped you do all of this,” he whispers.

“I know. But I needed to do it alone.” It was a long overdue conversation between Nana and me. Not a goodbye so much as… showing her that I’m okay. “Besides, I’m not done. I still need a chair for that corner. You know, to throw clothes on.”

He nods firmly. “Right.”

I gesture to the window. “I want to put more plants here. Oh, maybe an indoor tree!”

He laughs, and those dimples are carved in so deep, I want to press my finger there, let them swallow me.

“What do you think?” My teeth dig into my lip. I know what he’s going to say but I need to feel it—the full force Jamie Bishop effect.

And he must know that because he pounces, pulling me into a bear hug and burying his face in my hair. “I think it’s about damn time.”

I think he’s right, as usual, and so Monday morning, I wait until Jamie leaves for his weekly sales meeting with Wes, then I roll to the still-warm spot he’s left in my bed to make a call I’ve been practicing all weekend.

After a brief hold, the receptionist transfers me to Vi.

I don’t expect her to be shocked. Afterall, it was her who told me to decide if Ned’s job was something I wanted. I guess in a way, she saw the future too.

“I won’t lose you completely, then?” she asks after I’ve broken the news.

“No.” Even with Cara’s job, I’m not nearly ready to support myself full time, and Brickstone has helped me make a name for myself even if it’s in an adjacent field. Staying freelance will allow me to pick my projects, work toward my own goals alongside Vi’s. Of course, I’ll also still pay for my health insurance, but I’m figuring that out. “I’m going to move here, though,” I tell her.

“Well, it’s a good thing you work remotely.”

“You were right, Vi. This was a gift, and you have no idea how much I appreciate it.”

We hang up, and I feel settled and filled to the brim with what comes next, and I feel the same contentment in my bones whenI call a real estate agent in Connecticut next, and we discuss the logistics of listing my condo.

Take a leap, Noel. All signs point to the universe catching you.

I haven’t had any more visions since that night at the beach, but enough of them have come true that I’m not just leaping into this new life, I’m swan diving.

thirty-one

Noel

ThefollowingThursday,Jamietakes the day off, and we spend the entirety of it in my new bedroom. An early snow shower flutters outside, and his breath is soft and even on my chest.

What started as him helping me hang some new artwork on the walls turned into trading orgasms for most of the afternoon. Every project we do—the shelves he helped me build for my plants, the curtains we hung in the loft—ends this way, but I’m happy to indulge it.

I run my fingers through his hair when his weight begins to press into me, and his breathing starts to slow. “You have to get ready for hockey soon.” Now that his ribs are healed, he’s back to playing every week, and I usually go with him.

“I just decided to quit hockey, actually,” he mumbles into the side of my breast. “My job too. Everything but you.”

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