Page 113 of The Candlemaker

Cheated.

My swift gasp punctured the air, and Lou let out a small cry.

“It doesn’t have to mean that,” I blurted out, shaking my head vigorously. It couldn’t meanthat.My shy, thoughtful sister deserved a better destiny thanthat.“It could mean anything. Just look at me—at mine. How long did I think that Chandler meant candlemaker?”

The question was meant for her—meant to strike a different thought in her mind than the worst-case scenario—but instead, it struck me.

He’d always been my destiny.

“I don’t think there is anything it could mean that is good,” Lou said and took a trembling breath, her eyes slowly going vacant. “It’s fine. I have the inn now, and that’s all that matters to me.”

“Lou—”

“I think you’re right, Frankie,” she interrupted, a spark glittering in her gaze. “Maybe it does mean something different for me. Maybe it means I’ve cheated my way out of needing love to be happy.”

Oh, no.

“You thought you were the one who got to escape matchmaking, but maybe this is proof it’s been me all along. That I get to just be satisfied and focus on my dream.”

“It…could.” What else did I say? It could mean anything. It could mean nothing.I didn’t want it to mean this.Not for Lou.

“Thank you.” She pulled me in for a tight hug and then released me, saying, “I’m just going to get some fresh air” before disappearing outside.

I stared at the front door for a long second, wondering how I was going to fix this for her.Wondering if I even could.

“Is everything okay?” Chandler rumbled when I returned to the kitchen.

I nodded slowly, about to explain, when Gigi appeared at the top of the steps. “Francesca, where is your sister?” Gigi looked upset, too.

“I think she stepped outside.”

“All right.” The brightness in her eyes had dimmed; it was the first time I’d ever known Gigi’s premonition to be painful. “I have this for you, Chandler.” She set a label face down on the kitchen counter. “Francesca can explain. I have to talk to Lou.”

When she left, Chandler looked at me, then to the label, and then back at me again.

I placed my fingers on top of the rectangular slip.

“Gigi has…a thing. A gift, she likes to say,” I began, my own curiosity itching to know what she’d written for him. “Sometimes, when she gets to know someone, she’ll get a vision, usually a word or two, that generally reveals something or someone in their future.”

“And this is mine?” His brow lifted.

“I know it sounds crazy, but I promise, it’s the truth?—”

“I believe you,” he broke in and added with a tipped smile, “I know what you look like when you try to lie about the supernatural.”

I pursed my lipsand pushed the label toward him, my heart thudding louder. He reached for it and then paused, his gaze lifting to mine again.

“What did yours say?”

My jaw went slack, heat dousing my cheeks. My tongue took a minute to work before I could wet my lips and then trace out the syllables of his name.

“Chandler.”

At first, he didn’t realize I was answering him. His eyes narrowed in that probing way, but something on my face made him realize, because then everything softened.

“Your…fortune was my name?”

My chin dipped, and it felt like him knowing this somehow connected the last of the dots inside me. All the pieces of my life—my past, my dreams, my future—all circled back to him.

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