Page 98 of L.O.V.E

“Let’s not talk about this right now. Not here.” I pulled free and skirted through the crowd toward our mothers.

Mom’s head was down, her face pressed close to Felicia’s. When she saw me, she jumped to her feet. “Natalie.”

Hiding my ebbing tears, I dodged the table. “Be right back, Mom.” Like a coward—a lovesick coward—I headed toward the ladies room but instead smacked nose to chest into my Dad.

“Natalie,” he said, voice stern, grip steady. “You need to hear this.” He turned me to face Mom, and by the look on her face, I knew, undoubtably, that my life was about to take a major turn.

Cole now stood behind his mother, hand on her shoulder but all of his attention on me.

Mom and Felicia held hands. “Felicia is the woman from the hospital.” Mom wiggled in her stilettos like an excited child. “From the day you were born. The photo. This is her.”

“No.”

Felicia nodded.

“No.” I looked between the two women, then to Cole, then to my mother. “Mom. You said his name was Caleb.”

“I got it wrong. I was in labor you know, then on pain pills, sleep deprived, and well…Cole. Caleb. Close enough.”

I shot a questioning glance Cole’s way. Dad squeezed my shoulders and whispered, “What do you know? Soulmates,” before letting go.

The room faded into millions of blurry raindrops, the only clear point Cole’s gorgeous face. “When is your birthday?”

“March first.”

Same as mine.

“Where were you born?”

Brows pinched, he said, “Seattle.”

“What hospital?”

“Seattle Memorial.” He stepped closer. “Why?”

“I have to go.”

“Wait. What’s happening right now?”

I turned to flee but heard Felicia say, “Natalie is the baby I always told you about. From the day you were born.”

Cole

Natalie was the one.

My grandfather had told me so.

My mother had told me so.

The fates had just slapped me upside the head with that brilliant, well-timed gift.

She was the one, and she was running away.

Not again. Never again.

“Natalie, wait.” I followed behind, far enough to give her space, close enough to keep her from disappearing. “Just wait a minute. Where the hell are you going?”

Slowing her pace, she said over her shoulder, “I need to think.”

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