I’m going to pee myself, aren’t I? Her heartbeat went nuclear, the organ hammering against her ribs. There was no way—zero, none—she was discussing urinary health with Conrad.
She had to call someone for help, though. But who—a laugh exploded from her, and she blinked. A laugh? Here? Now? Then her world tilted. Laughing again, she toppled in the grass, where a huge magnolia tree offered a wealth of shade.
Wow. Such a pretty tree. The only one she’d ever seen with three trunks and a million branches.
“Yo! We’ve got some things to discuss.”
What–who–what? Gasping, she scanned the area. No one stood nearby. Had she imagined the distinctly male, rumbly voice? No. No way. “Who said that?” she demanded, only to laugh again. She wasn’t standing, yet she was somehow spinning in circles. “Where are you? Show yourself before I bury you.”
“Over here, weirdo.”
The words, now laced with irritation, resonated behind her.
She twisted this way and that, searching... Her gaze skidded over the three-trunked magnolia, only to zoom back. Hold up. Did she see a face in one section of bark?
“Gawking is the cruelest thing you can do to someone, you know.” The statement spilled from two wooden lips. “Are you always this rude?”
Her jaw slackened. Yes, the tree was speaking to her. And he thought she was rude. She should probably speak back and give him a better—more accurate—impression of her. “I’m never rude sometimes. But are you even a someone?”
He humphed. “I’m more of a someone than you are.”
Oh, really? “What’s your name then?”
“What’s yours?” he retorted.
“I’m Jane.” Wasn’t she? Suddenly she wasn’t sure.
“Wrong.” He smirked at her. “You’re Regret. Miss Regret Cursed the Fourth.”
Well. He wasn’t wrong. She was cursed. Like all the women in her family, she was fated to lose any man she loved. A fact proven in one generation after another, and the reason she felt so uncertain about her almost-relationship with Conrad.
Jane had never imagined she’d lose him because she died, though. Unless he had a thing for former almost-girlfriends who’d become ghosts? Anything was possible.
She gulped and scooted closer to the tree. Since the ancient ones were lauded for their great wisdom, why not seek some much-needed advice? Considering this guy pushed a hundred, he must have oodles of insight.
“There’s this man…” she began, only to giggle. What a funny word. Man. May-an. May-ann-aise. Mayonnaise. Hmmm. A turkey and Cheetos sandwich sounded delightful right now.
“You mean Conrad Hotness Ryan. Yeah, I’m familiar.”
Excellent. “Do you know what I should do about him?” Despite all the special agent’s smoldering glances and sexy come-ons, despite his calls and texts, she had no idea where things stood with him. After the aborted chat, he’d stopped coming around.
“Of course I know. I understand everything about everyone always.”
She waited to hear more, beyond eager. “Well?” she prompted, then smacked her lips. Ugh. Why was her mouth so dry? “What should I do?”
“Get ready, because I’m about to blow your mind. You should do…drum roll please…something. And guess what? If no one comes from the future to stop you, you can be confident that you made the right decision.”
Ohhhhh. Yes, yes, yes. She should absolutely, positively do this something of which he spoke. Why hadn’t she thought of that before? “What else?” she asked her new friend, dizzier by the moment. “Help me fix my life, wise one.”
“Never forget that credit cards are free money.”
If only she’d known sooner. “Tell me more.”
“Always dwell on your mistakes. The waking up in a cold sweat at two in the morning kind of brooding. That’s how you learn to do better.”
“Smart.” Wait. Stars were falling from the sky and sparkling around her. How wonderful. “More!”
“Take things personally from the start. It’ll save time.”
“I’ve always wanted to save time.” Jane felt as if she was guzzling wisdom by the gallon. Conrad and Beau must hear this. Both men struggled with problems of some sort too. So, why not call them?
“Don’t reach out to your men,” Tree advised. “Reach out to the women they’re gonna date.”
“Conrad is only allowed to see me.” She didn’t make the rules; she only enforced them. So. She should probably call the two lovely ladies she’d selected for Beau. Eunice Park and Tatiana “Ana” Irons. Eunice worked… somewhere. Ana worked… somewhere else. Since Jane had attended high school with both women, starting a dialogue wouldn’t be weird in the slightest. Although…
“I think Fiona told me to stop calling people when I’m sick,” she said, vaguely remembering the conversations that had taken place at various times in her life.
Tree shook its leaves, saying, “You aren’t sick, are you? Go ahead. Make the calls.”
Duh. She wasn’t sick. Giddier by the second, Jane focused really, really hard on her cell’s contact list, dialed one candidate, then the other. Neither woman answered, so she left a voicemail to remind each one about the previous messages she’d left and how much she would appreciate a response.