Page 27 of Better Luck Next Time

A pretty woman with short dark hair had opened the door to the back, he registered, although he wasn’t sure when it had happened. She was looking at them with interest.

“Finn?” she asked.

“Hey,” Adalia said, as if affronted. “How come you guessed his name?”

The woman—Lola, surely—glanced at her. “Because hedidhave an appointment. One your friend Dottie made.”

Seeing Adalia here, he’d assumed Dottie had arranged this intentionally. Like maybe she’d decided a psychic’s office was the best place for him and Adalia to hash things out and discuss the show. He wouldn’t have put it past her. But Lola’s reaction suggested otherwise. Was this another chance meeting…at a psychic’s?

He believed in fate—to an extent—and it felt like it was throwing them together. But even if that was true, what was he supposed to do with the opportunity he’d been given? How could he get Adalia to trust him after all the dumb mistakes he’d made?

“Well, at least I’m somewhat encouraged that you’re not stalking me,” she said, pushing away.

She was about to leave when he found himself saying, “I think you should stay.”

“What?” she asked. She sounded like she thought he was a fruitcake, but at least she’d stopped walking.

“I didn’t mean to, but I witnessed something very personal to you,” he said. “I know one of your secrets. It only seems fair that you should know some of mine.”

She shot a dubious look at Lola, but he thought he saw something else in it. Anger, and maybe a little fear. Suddenly, Finn found himself wondering how Adalia’s reading had gone. What had the psychic told her?

Whatever it was, it had sent her running out of the building.

“No offense, but that only works if I buy that Lola here is a psychic. I’m not sold. Besides, you don’t just know my secret, you shared it with my sister’s boyfriend, and thus my sister. You’d need to give me free rein over who I tell.”

“Scout’s honor,” he said, making the sign.

“Youwouldbe a Scout,” she said.

“Not to interrupt,” Lola said, “but I can give you an accurate reading if you’ll provide me with some background. Details like what brought you here, other than Dottie, and what problems you’re dealing with right now.” The glance she gave Adalia indicated she had been less cooperative.

“Whatever you need,” he said, looking at Adalia as he said it. “I’m an open book.”

He was prepared for Adalia to say no. The look she’d given him at the door…

But something shifted in her eyes, like maybe she’d decided she didn’t want to go wherever it was she’d been heading with such purpose before she rammed into him. She walked back into the adjoining room, glancing over her shoulder at him. “Oh, this is going to be good.”

Finn followed, feeling a prickle of misgiving for the first time.

What if Lola told him that he was fooling himself? That the whole art thing was a distraction from the fact that his life had crumbled around him? That he was destined to be lonely for the rest of his existence because he couldn’t make a good decision if his life depended on it? That he was already a has-been at thirty-two.

He wasn’t so sure he wanted Adalia to witness that, but then again, she hadn’t wanted him to see her pour her emotions out onto that canvas before she tore it to pieces. Fair was fair.

Lola gave him a glance.

“Are you okay with this?” he asked. “I guess it’s not…traditional to have someone else sit in on a reading.”

“Oh, I’ve seen all kinds,” she said, and he believed it. She was a friend of Dottie’s, after all.

He made his way into the room, which looked like the office of the therapist he’d gone to see after his falling-out with River. He’d gone to one appointment. The only person who knew was Dottie, who’d told him, “Dear, no need to be so ambitious. Most people don’t resolve their issues in a single session.”

Which he knew, of course, but it had been an afternoon appointment, and the office had smelled strongly of egg salad. Something that had prevented him from focusing on anything but the egg salad.

Adalia sat in one of the two chairs, and since the other was clearly intended for Lola, he settled onto the couch. As Lola sat down across from him, Finn found himself wondering what he’d signed up for. It felt like he was about to be interrogated.

“Tell me a little about yourself,” Lola said. And he couldn’t help but glance at Adalia. He made eye contact for a second, which was enough to tell him they were thinking pretty much the same thing: what exactly did psychic mean if it didn’t mean, well, psychic?

But Lola was onto them. “Like I told your friend,” she said patiently, “I don’t know everything. If I did, I’d have won the lottery years ago. But some of us are more…intuitive. More capable of tapping into deep truths. I’m not sure I can help you, but I’d like to try.”

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