Page 34 of Something Like Fate

“Who’s them? I thought we were just talking about Cousin Lin? Did this happen to someone else?”

“Apparently, your First Great-Aunt Shu. The details are fuzzy. She lived across the country, so no one was all that close with her.”

“What happened?”

“Similar story. Died alone, broke and eternally lonely. But don’t worry, Lo,” she adds, her tone turning optimistic a little too quickly. “It’s only happened twice in our whole family history.”

“Is that supposed to reassure me?” Up until a few days ago, I was the only woman in the family who hadn’t inherited the gift. I’m no stranger to being the exception.

“Things will pick up with Caleb; you’ll see. What’s the plan for today?” she asks, promptly ignoring my question.

“Um, we’re doing a walking tour around Venice,” I explain. “Then we’re going on those gondola rides through the canal tonight.”

She cradles her right cheek. “Sounds like the perfect opportunity for romance.”

I’m still weary from Teller’s comments for the majority of the morning and, frankly, a little shook by my conversation with Ellen. How did I not know about the consequences of not ending up with my soulmate? I can’t help but feel a little offended that my aunts would keep something like this from me. That up until a few days ago, they thought I’d be another cautionary tale.

Despite Ellen’s optimism, I’m not out of the woods yet. I actually need to talk to Caleb to seal the deal. By the time we’ve completed our glassblowing demonstration and the tour of Saint Mark’s Basilica, most of the humiliation and shock has faded.

Maybe it’s a by-product of doing embarrassing things on the regular. It’s also easy to forget your problems when you’re in one of the most beautiful cities in the world on a tour with all your newest hostel friends—including your soulmate (Posie invited him)—exactly where your mom was thirty years before. And when you’re looking at Venetian Gothic architecture dating back to the 1400s.

Our tour guide, Gia, is a tiny, spiky-haired woman. She’s a force to be reckoned with, navigating crowds like a total boss.

“If I were a flavor, I’d be espresso cream because I like to keep things high energy,” she told our group. She’s not lying. She practically vibrates as she speaks, moving her hands in all manner of directions. It’s proving infectious; we’re all bright-eyed and hanging on every word about how her great-grandfather, a former opera singer, started their tour company out of pure passion for sharing their culture with the world.

We take a quick break in the shady square, mostly for Ernest’s and Posie’s sakes. They’re understandably exhausted and spritzing each other with water bottles. According to Jenny’s Fitbit, we’ve walked fifteen thousand steps today.

As Gia goes on about Venice’s 300 bridges that connect all 116 islands, I spy Caleb leaning against an ornate column, smiling and tapping his foot to a street performer playing the accordion.

Now’s your chance to talk to him. You can do this, Lo.The only thing standing in the way is my own insecurity.

“Lo,” I say, surprised that my legs have carried my body this far.

He tears his eyes from Accordion Guy and looks at me. I can’t help but stare at the dusting of freckles clustered over the bridge of his nose. “Sorry, what?”

“Lo. It’s my name. Short for Loren,” I tell him, mentally patting myself on the back for uttering a sentence to him in my normal voice.Must stay cool and avoid saying something terribly inappropriate.

His lips curve into a smirk, which instantly puts me at ease. “Look at that, girl with no name does have a name. Nice to officially meet you, Lo. I’m Caleb.”

“Oh, I know.” I cringe. That sounded super creepy. “Because you told me yesterday. When you saved my life,” I add.

He waves his hand like he’s pushing my words away. “Ah, it was nothing.”

“You say that like you go around saving people from being flattened regularly.”

His eyes skim the gaggle of tourists weaving around us. “That was a first. Though, wait. I did actually save a woman from falling off a ski lift in Mont-Tremblant. Caught her by the collar.”

The image of him saving someone with his brute strength makes me weak in the knees. I shake one sandaled foot out to get the blood circulating. “See? You’ve saved two lives. You’re basically a superhero.”

“Eh, not quite. I kind of threw my back out a little with the trolley,” he admits, doing a stiff stretch side to side.

“Oh shit. I’m so sorry—”

“Hey, it’s okay. You were too beautiful not to save.” He flashes me a megawatt smile. “Damn. That was cheesy, wasn’t it?”

“The cheesiest,” I say. I can’t help but giggle over the accordion’s cheerful tune.

“Is it too late to take it back?”

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