Page 40 of Something Like Fate

“The other night, right before you picked me up from that frat party.”

“But I thought you didn’t have—” he starts, brows pinched.

“I thought so too. I mean, I don’t have any other psychic abilities that I know of. It was just this one vision.” I explain the vision as we continue through a labyrinth of waterways, passing an old brick building that was allegedly Marco Polo’s house. “I told my aunts that night, and they said it was pretty much identical to the one my mom had about my dad. They interpreted it to mean I was going to meet The One in Venice.”

“Caleb,” he says.

“Exactly.”

He leans back and stares at the canal ahead, taking it all in. “Wow. No wonder you’ve been so gung ho about this trip. How come you didn’t tell me?” He sounds a little wounded, understandably so.

“I wanted to that night. But you were so sad about Sophie, it seemed like the wrong time. And I guess I was scared you wouldn’t believe in the whole soulmate thing.”

“Well, you’re both comfortable being shoeless in public places. If that doesn’t scream soulmates, I don’t know what does,” he says, deadpan. Last night, when Caleb entered the courtyard barefoot, Teller and I immediately locked eyes and snorted.

“Anyway, that’s not all. My aunt Ellen told me there’s also a related curse. Anyone in the family who doesn’t end up with their soulmate is eternally lonely and miserable.”

His eyes widen even more. “Eternally?”

“You bet. Promising, huh?”

“But what’s wrong with being alone?” Teller asks. “Some people are perfectly happy without a partner.”

I shrug. “I’m sure they are. But not in my family. Ellen told me a pretty alarming story about my cousin, twice removed. She decided not to be with her soulmate and got hit by a bus; then her house flooded.”

“Jeez,” Teller croaks.

“Seriously, though. You think I’m a loser weirdo, don’t you?”

His laugh echoes over the slap of the water against Alfie’s ore. “I don’t think you’re a loser weirdo.” He runs a hand over his chin, seemingly choosing his words carefully. “It’s not that I don’t believe you or your family and the whole psychic-curse thing. But as far as soulmates ... statistically speaking, it seems a little wild, don’t you think? And scary. Like, the idea that there’s only one other person out there for you, among all eight billion?”

“That’s exactly what’s so romantic about it. Of all eight billion people in the world, we’re fated for one.”

“Okay, so what if the one person you’re meant to be with lives halfway around the world in a remote village with no technology? What if socioeconomic barriers prevent them from ever meeting you?”

“We’d find a way to meet,” I say confidently.

He narrows his gaze, uncertain. “Even if they never leave their village? What if you don’t even speak the same language?”

I squeeze my eyes shut. “I don’t see how this is even relevant. If there were that many barriers to meeting or connecting, that person wouldn’t be my soulmate.”

“But you would agree that, generally, most people who fall in love typically live in the same geographic location, share the same language, class, probably age.” His points are valid, and I’m absolutely unequipped to respond with any sort of authority.

“I guess so.”

“So doesn’t it make more sense that it’s just totally random? That people choose others based on those factors and not some predetermined cosmic force?”

“No.” I shake my head stubbornly, making a mental note to ask my aunts for their opinion.

“Okay then. What if your soulmate is like, a hundred years older than you and dies tragically before you even get to meet? Does that mean you’re shit out of luck for another soulmate?”

I scratch my neck like someone’s surprised me with a math test. “I—I don’t really know the logistics.”

He can tell I’m getting flustered. “It’s okay, Lo.”

“But you don’t believe me.”

“That’s not true. I’m just trying to make sense of it. You know I need to logic everything. For the record, I believe you saw what you saw.”

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