Page 27 of The Cupid Chronicles

“Or that you and Winnie have something in common . . .” Brooke sits back down. “You’re both alone.”

I shoot her a look. “Okay, thanks for that.”

Brooke scrunches up her nose. “Oh, I didn’t mean it likethat, but . . . you know. You’re both . . . without people right now.”

“There has to be a bigger lesson we’re not seeing here,” Liz says. “Or a romance brewing behind the scenes? Most of the stories I’ve heard about your building have to do with romance.” Now she stands. “Somehow, I think this might have to do with the hot chef.”

“It doesn’t,” I say, though I’m not all that convinced.

“It might.”

“Might not.”

“His name isonthese newspapers, right?” Liz says. “That’s not an accident.”

I shake my head. “I’ve got that figured out. I’m thinking the newspaper thinks he’s too much of a tool to actually help anyone else other than himself. I’m a different kind of person than he is.” I pause. “I love helping people. The newspaper knows I won’t rest till I figure out how to help Winnie.”

Brooke chuckles. “You’re talking about the newspaper like it’s alive.”

My hand reflexively moves to the spot on my forehead where it’s been smacked by a flying newspaper. Twice.

“Yeah. Silly me.”

“Wetoldyou that building was magic, Iris!” Liz says, practically bouncing. “Can we come over? Can we see it for ourselves?”

“Ooh! You can text or call when it starts happening again!” Brooke adds.

I throw away my trash, then zip up my lunch bag. “Look, I don’t know if this is going to keep happening. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do. I’m still having a hard time wrapping my brain around this. It doesn’t make sense.” I start toward the door, but Brooke blocks my exit.

“Magic is likelove,” she croons. “It doesn’t have to make sense.”

I hold in a chuckle. “How long have you been holding on tothatone?”

She shrugs. “Eh. A while. But it’s still true!”

“All we’re saying is that your building chose you for a reason. The magicchose you. It’s up to something,” Liz says from behind me. “And whatever it is, you don’t want to miss out on it.”

I stop. “You’re right. I kind of don’t,” I admit.

They exchange another glance.

“Itisexciting, right?” Strange, yes, but still exciting.

“Uh,yeahit is,” Brooke practically shouts this at me. “And who knows? Maybe you can, you know . . .exchange paperswith the chef.”

Heat rushes to my cheeks at the mention of Matteo. “Okay, that’s my cue.” I try to escape and push past Brooke, out into the hallway.

She follows me. “Oh, come on, Iris. This would be way more exciting than crocheting those weird little animals on Friday nights while you watch reruns ofNew GirlandThe Great British Baking Show.”

“Ouch! Below the belt, Brooke!” I whip around, mouth agape and smiling, mostly because I know she’s right. It’s possible I’veover-corrected my tendency to insert myself into other people’s lives.

And it’s also possible I’m suffering for it. That doesn’t mean I should get overly involved in whatever is happening with my building. One time . . . and then done. No more. That should be enough to satisfy my curiosity—then Matteo can deal with things.

His frowning face flashes through my mind, and I wonder what he would look like if he smiled.

Be careful, Iris.

Brooke holds up her hands, as if in surrender. “All I’m saying is . . . maybe this could be a good thing.”

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