Page 58 of Ruled By Fate

Do NOT think about this now. Get ready for work.

She heard a clang of pots and pans but took ages to get ready, nervous to join him in the kitchen. She brushed her hair far too long, and her curls went from voluminous to positively unmanageable. She tried to undo the damage but was eventually forced to wrestle it all up into a messy bun. She stabbed herself twice in the eye with a mascara wand and lost her favorite lip gloss down a heating vent because her hands were trembling. In the end, she gave herself a despairing look in the mirror, took a deep breath, and told herself it would be alright.

Sherry says I look cute in scrubs. What does she call it? An irresistible disaster.

I need to work on my pep talks.

En route to the kitchen, she smelled an odor of things that ought not to have been cooked.

“Good morning,” she said with a forced brightness as she walked inside before halting in her tracks. “Sweet pole-vaulting Jesus, what happened here?”

Cameron had responded to his own tension by attempting to make her an omelet, a task that appeared to be woefully beyond his skill set. He also seemed to have pan-fried her phone.

“He prefers water sports to track and field,” he answered, hanging his head in frustration while trying to coax a dreary goo of eggs and former vegetables into the correct shape. “But He has a real advantage there, and nobody likes to race Him anymore.”

She stared at the back of his head. “Who?”

“You know. Jesus.”

She decided to ignore this. “Did you get into an argument with Siri again?”

“That venomous harpy has it in for me,” he muttered.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“You battered my smartphone?”

His lips quirked up in a vengeful grin. “Not so terribly smart now, is it?”

She took a breath for patience. “Battered, Cameron.”

“Nonsense. I didn’t hit it once.”

He shifted awkwardly, wiping his hands on a lacy, floral-print apron she’d never seen before. It looked suspiciously like the one the sweet old lady wore on those YouTube cooking tutorials to which he was becoming increasingly, begrudgingly addicted.

“Would you like some coffee?”

A deflection, if ever I saw.

“Sure, thank you.”

They bumped into one another when they tried to grab the same mug and flushed identical shades of deep red. Then their hands touched while reaching for the sugar, and her temperature rose ten degrees. Eventually, he retreated to the opposite side of the kitchen, averting his eyes and taking several deep breaths before finally permitting himself to speak.

“I wanted you to have a good breakfast,” he began hesitantly, “because I have something rather serious to talk to you about.”

She immediately choked on her coffee, scalding the back of her throat. An overwhelming impulse came over her to run fast and run far. But she couldn’t bring herself to leave the caffeine behind. No matter how much it ended up costing her.

“Yeah, sure. Whatever you—”

“I think I should go home and tell my father about your situation.”

She went perfectly blank. “Oh.”

Original, pithy, articulate. Try saying “Oh” more often, Brie. It makes you sound like a real catch.

“You deserve answers,” he continued slowly. “Last night showed me that I was being selfish, staying here by your side. In trying to protect you, I may actually be compromising your safety by keeping us both in the dark.” He nodded at her pendant. “This is too powerful for guessing games. We need to know what’s going on.” His eyes lifted cautiously to hers. “Do you understand?”

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