Page 29 of Better Luck Next Time

“I doubt it,” Adalia said, glancing at Finn. He looked shell-shocked, but she thought she saw something like hurt in his eyes. “Nothing personal. I’m not exactly looking for a relationship.”

“Maybe I misspoke,” Lola said quickly, as if sensing she was losing her audience. “It might not be a romantic connection, but there’s no denying your futures are intertwined. I’ve never seen a stronger indication.” She gestured for them to look at the cards as she said it, and it struck Adalia that it wasn’t just the same spread: it was in the same order.

Maybe Lola wasn’t totally full of it. There was no denying Adalia kept running into Finn, and he’d already had an impact on her life.

If Lola was right—and that was abigif—what exactly did all of this mean?

Was Finn freaking out at the thought of his future being hitched to hers? Or was he just as desperate to get out of this nightmare as she was?

“Do you smell something burning?” Adalia asked, wrinkling her nose.

Lola’s eyes widened in alarm. “What?”

She turned to Finn. “You smell that, don’t you?”

He gave her a confused look.

“It smells like burning plastic.” She leaned forward, locking eyes with him. “Don’t you smell it?” She lifted her eyebrows as high as she could.

Understanding filled his eyes and he sat up straighter. “Yeah. Definitely.” He bobbed his head and got to his feet. “We should get out of here so you can figure out what it is, Lola.”

“But I don’t smell anything,” she said, looking worried.

Adalia felt guilty for scaring her, but not guilty enough to stay seated. “Maybe it’s just my nose.” She shrugged as she grabbed Finn’s wrist and dragged him to the door. “I burned a Pop-Tart this morning, and I haven’t been smelling right ever since.”

Finn glanced back at Lola. “How much do I owe you?”

“Just send the bill to Dottie!” Adalia called out, dragging Finn behind her. “He’s good for it!” She didn’t slow down until they were out the door and halfway down the street.

“Where are we going?” he asked, but she noticed he wasn’t giving her any resistance.

“I’m hungry. You’re buying me a late lunch.”

“I am?” He gave a slight shake of his head, looking only slightly less dazed than he had on Lola’s couch. “Yeah. Okay. Let’s do lunch.”

“Let’sdolunch?” she asked, walking slower now but still holding his wrist. “You make it sound like we’re about to film a porno.”

His face turned red. “Adalia, I—”

“Relax,” she said, coming to a halt at the street corner. “I make inappropriate comments when I’m nervous or uncomfortable.” She gave him a direct look. “The more uncomfortable, the more inappropriate. For the record, I dialed it back so I wouldn’t scare you off.”

She spotted a Mexican restaurant and started to drag him toward it. “I hear they have a great Taco Tuesday night…and yes, I’m well aware of the fact that it’s Thursday.” She was babbling, which was totally unlike her, just further proof of how shaken she was.

He made a face when he saw their destination, like maybe he wasn’t in the mood for Mexican food. She might have asked him about it, but then he tried to lace his fingers with hers, and she stopped and jerked her hand away. “What are youdoing?”

He gave her a blank look. “I thought you wanted to hold hands.”

“What? No!”

He studied her for a long moment and then slowly reached out and grabbed her hand anyway.

For some reason, she didn’t resist. She told herself she was doing it for him. From what he’d said in the weird psychic/therapist room, he clearly needed a friend. The fact that she hadn’t pulled away had nothing to do with the fact that his touch made her feel grounded and slowed down the spinning in her head.

They were silent as they walked the rest of the way to the restaurant. He opened the door for her, still holding her hand, and part of her couldn’t believe it. She wasn’t one of those people who held hands while walking down the street, not with anyone, but life had a way of laying to rest personal rules and preconceived notions.

The hostess showed them to a booth right away, likely because it was well after the lunch rush. Finn released her hand before sliding into one side, muttering something about déjà vu, but he didn’t explain, and she didn’t ask. The hostess placed a basket of chips and two containers of salsa on the table, then headed back to her stand at the front of the restaurant.

Adalia took the seat across from him and set her purse down next to her.

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