Page 91 of Time Loops & Meet Cutes
Another important resolution:Get a new job.
To be honest, I’m rather glad that Cam is busy on Valentine’s Day. The holiday has always seemed a touch too corny for me. Though maybe I came to feel that way because in high school, I got precisely zero Valentine-grams. It was better to say I didn’t care than to be hurt.
Besides, what do you do on Valentine’s Day when you only officially started dating the weekend before?
So, yeah, I don’t mind.
The afternoon of February 14, Avery is cleaning the washroom and I’m taking a break after mopping when I get a text.
CAM: What do heiresses like to do for Valentine’s Day?
ME: Drink bottles of Dom Pérignon from all our admirers.
ME: Or mop our kitchen floors. One of the two.
He sends a selection of emojis that I ought to find cheesy, but instead, they delight me.
On February 15, I take a while getting ready, beginning with a shower. I shave things that I usually only bother to shave in the summer, even if I don’t intend to sleep with Cam tonight. I also wash my hair, managing not to absently pour too much shampoo. It took several days to adjust to my pixie cut. Though I’d gotten this haircut before, it had never actually stuck around, but now, my hair stays short and I love it.
At Avery’s suggestion, I wear one of her dark blouses. It’s lower-cut than anything I own, and it’s certainly not somethingI’d wear to the office, but I like the way it looks, and I also appreciate her help with my makeup.
Cam made reservations at a restaurant we’ve never been to together, and when I looked it up, it was obvious why: the grand opening was only three months ago. I order chicken with a pomegranate-walnut sauce, and we split an appetizer. When he tells me that he likes karaoke, I refrain from making any comments about what I’ve heard him sing in the past—or the Matchbox Twenty tribute band. He does, however, tell me about it during our post-dinner chai, and I force myself to look surprised, while on the inside, I add this to the collection of stuff I know about him that I’m supposed to know about him. Not to be confused with the stuff I know that he’s not aware I know. I don’t want him to think that I was stalking him, nor do I want to use my extra knowledge to convince him of our connection; I want the relationship to unfold naturally.
But, god, this is messy.
“Is something wrong?” he asks.
I school my face into a smile. I really am happy to be with him, on our second date—I yearned for one of these for so long, and now it’s finally here. I’m on bench seating, a couple of colorful pillows behind me. There’s a cozy warmth to this restaurant. It’s a nice place for a date.
Except I used to be trapped in a time loop, and I can’t tell you about it.
Or could I? I told him before, and he believed me.
But it’s different now. I can no longer “prove” the time loop by predicting the future, and if he doesn’t believe me, it’s not like he’ll forget overnight. Best to keep my mouth shut.
Still, it bothers me, our secret past sitting like a lump in my stomach.
I shake my head. “I was just thinking of all the things I have to do before the Lunar New Year.”
“Will you see your family tomorrow night?”
I nod. “You?”
“Yeah. We’ll go to my aunt’s. It’ll be weird, though, without my grandma. She passed away at the beginning of January.”
“I’m so sorry, Cam,” I say immediately.
His smile slips. “Lots of people lose all their grandparents before their midthirties. She lived a long life and witnessed a dizzying number of changes…”
“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be sad, and I know holidays can be tough. The first big holiday after someone dies—yes, I remember.” I reach across the table and squeeze his hand.
“She wasn’t at Christmas either,” he says. “I went to see her the next day at the hospital. She was very sick. At the last Lunar New Year, she insisted I bring some of our beer so she could try it.”
His grandma would have died just over a month ago, while I was living another June 20. Maybe that’s why he didn’t give me his number—it had something to do with his grief. He hadn’t been in the mood to put himself out there, which I can understand.
“What did she think?” I ask.
“She didn’t like it, but she said the can looked nice.”
