Page 54 of Something Like Fate

Usually, I’m the annoyingly optimistic one. But if he, of all people, thinks we’ll find it, I can’t help but feel hopeful.

We widen the search, retracing our steps from the site of the accident to the Basilica. We continue in circles, long past sunset, until both our eyes are strained and our feet are blistered, and all hope is lost.

“It’s gone,” I say with a sinking in my chest. It’s gone forever and it’s all my fault.

I expect him to ramble about how I shouldn’t blame myself. That it’s just a photo, that my dad has a digital copy, that I can print a new one. But he doesn’t. Instead, he pulls me into his side and says, “I’m so, so sorry.”

It feels good, hearing that simple acknowledgment of my pain without all the attempts to look on the bright side. I’m grateful that he allows me to sit in my sadness, more than he’ll ever know.

I rest my head on his shoulder and close my eyes, embracing the stillness for what feels like forever, until he finally says, “You know, losing the picture doesn’t mean you’re any less connected to your mom.”

“It doesn’t feel that way,” I say. I’ll never be able to look at the photo again without the guilt of knowing I lost the original. I’ll never be able to run my fingers along its worn edges, remembering all the times it’s brought me comfort.

“Maybe you don’t have the picture, but you forgot the most important part.”

“What’s that?”

“The picture isn’t the legacy. Finding your soulmate is.”

I internalize those words for a few moments. He’s right. Sure, the picture is a huge loss. But what connects me to Mom goes beyond that. It’s exactly what Teller says. I’ll carry on her legacy by falling in love. That’s the real gift she passed to me, and I’m well on my way.

That kernel of optimism gives me enough strength to stand. “Thank you for searching so long, even though you knew we probably wouldn’t find it.”

He shrugs, pulling himself up. “It was one of the rare times you weren’t sure, so I figured one of us had to be.” I’m struck by Teller’s wisdom and kindness. He went against his natural inclinations—for me.

“You’re a good friend, Tel.”

He smiles, and damn. That smile. It nearly knocks me sideways. “Is now a bad time to say I was right about the money belt?”

I laugh, trying to hold on to this moment, cement it in my mind. There’s no way I’m letting him go.

17

Teller isn’t in our hostel room.

We’d planned to watch a movie tonight after being on the go since the beginning of the trip. After my vision on our double date, I’ve been desperate for some quality friend time, just us. But when I return from a walk with Caleb, box of cannoli in hand, our room is dark and the bottom bunk (his bunk) is empty, bed made tight.

He’s never been flaky with plans—ever. I turn my bedside lamp on and scroll through my phone for a few minutes to kill time.

After twenty long minutes and two cannoli, I break and throw him a text.

Lo: hey! back at the room.

Lo: when do you think you’ll be back?

Lo: that sounded like I’m rushing you.

Lo: i’m not.Promise.

Lo: just curious if you still want to watch a movie?

While I wait for a response, I pace around the room. Maybe he got lost?

Teller: Shit. I’m so sorry. I lost track of time. Rain check? Don’t wait up.

I stare at my phone. Does he mean don’t wait up out of politeness? Or don’t wait up as inI’m getting laid and I’ll be out until all hours of the morning? Not that he owes me any details.

Despite teasing him about hooking up with Riley all week, there’s a part of me that didn’t think he actually would.

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