Page 9 of With Any Luck

Will you hate me, too?I’m not sure I want to know.

I thank him quietly and take a sip. “How much sugar did you put in here?”

“Three and a half scoops and a splash of milk.”

I frown, looking down at the paper cup. “That’s ... exactly how I like it, actually.”

“I know. You told me,” he replies, sitting down opposite me. He props his head up on his hand, a curtain of red hair flopping into his eyes until he pushes it back with his fingers. He really is handsome, something that is both infuriating and unfair. “So do you have any other ideas?”

“No,” I sigh. Then, “I think it’s all my fault.”

“I doubt it’s your fault.”

“No, I really think it might be.”

“Unless you locked him on a building rooftop or something, I don’t think it is.”

I frown. “Just an hour ago, you were saying the opposite.”

“I was in a panic,” he admits, running his thumb along the plastic lid of his macchiato. “I don’t actually think you caused Rhett to up and disappear. I’m sorry I blamed you. I just ... I’ve never seen Millie so happy, and I’m terrible at change. Itfrightens me. You,” he adds, his emerald eyes flicking to me, and a shiver runs down my spine, “frighten me, too.”

“Why do I frighten you?”

“Because you make me wonder what else I’ve been missing, closed off in my studio with my sculptures and my clay. Millie is my constant—wasmy constant,” he corrects himself. “She made sure I was fed and watered; she made sure I had friends—that Isocialized. People don’t really interest me. I don’t understand their jokes, I’m often too blunt, I come off as crass. So many people have come in and out of my life, but Millie? She stayed. I want her to be happy, but to do that, I have to let her go. Things have to change. And I’m scared of that.”

I want to joke with him, because it’s not exactly like Carmilla and Rhett are leaving and never coming back, but I understand his sentiment. Rhett is my best friend, and in an hour—ifwe find him—he’ll be someone else’s by the nature of it all. I’ll always be important, obviously, but I won’t be hisone. I won’t be the person he calls when he’s drunk, and I won’t be the person who will listen to all of his boring engineering jokes, and I have to be OK with that. I will be OK with it.

And I know that, eventually, so will Theo.

I lean forward a little and say in a quiet voice ... a secret. “I think we have more in common than you think.”

“Who knew?” he says.

I laugh, but it quickly turns sour as I catch a look at the watch on his wrist. The lump in my throat won’t go away anymore, and we are quickly running out of time. “I think I kissed Rhett last night. I don’t—I don’t remember when, but it was after the bar and after we got doughnuts. I remember ...” My voice cracks. Tears pool in my eyes. “Oh God, I’m terrible,aren’t I? For kissing my best friend the night before his wedding?”

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, and then he rubs his face with his hand tiredly. “No. No, I don’t think you did, Audrey.”

“That’s very kind of you, but Idid.”

“When?”

“Last night! Keep up!” I cry. I push the palms of my hands across my eyes, smearing my mascara even more. My makeup is a lost cause, anyway. “I’m a terrible person, and I kissed him and ruined everything. Because every time I kiss someone, they find their soulmate the next day, and now he’s missing and ... and ...”

Theo watches me quietly, patiently, as if he’s just waiting for me to run out of steam.

I throw up my hands. “Soobviously, Rhett has met the woman of his dreams, and it’s all my fault that the wedding is ruined, and I’ve never seen him happier than with Carmilla, and now I ruined that because I ruin everything and—”

Suddenly, he presses two fingers against my mouth, quieting me. “What makes you think,” he says softly, his green eyes searching my tear-filled ones, “that Millie isn’t his true love?”

My mouth drops open. “I . . . um . . .”

“Really bold of you to assume he’d fall in love with anyone else and admit it to Millie’s very best friend. What do you expect me to do with that information, Audrey?”

“I ...” I swallow the knot growing in my throat, curling my fingers tightly into fists, concentrate on the feeling of my nails in my palms. Oh, nowhe’smad at me, too. “I didn’t want to lie anymore. Not to anyone, but ... especially not to you. Not now. Not when all of this is my fault.”

He’s quiet for another moment. “All right. Close your eyes,” he says.

Baffled, I stare at him, because now isnotthe time. “Why?”

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