The Secret (Winslow Brothers 3)

Fuck me. How does she remember all this shit? Does she keep note cards and pictures of past clients? Does she have some kind of photographic memory? Or maybe she’s secretly in the CIA and is currently wearing an earpiece that has intel streaming inside her ear?

Bro, the odds of this woman being CIA are about as likely as you following in Jude’s footsteps and wanting to commit to one woman for the rest of your life.

“Go on,” she encourages. “Ask away.”

“How?” I eventually blurt out. “How did you know about…?” But I stop before I give her too much information.

“My connection to the cosmos allows me to see things that no one else can see.”

Connection to the cosmos? What a crap answer. Not only that, but it’s also vague as fuck. If her connections to the cosmos are so great, then she should know who I’m asking about and why I’m asking and dive right into that shit.

Cleo gestures for me to give her my hand, and I falter for a moment before eventually giving in to the madness. When in Rome and all that bullshit, you know? I shouldn’t have come here if I’m not going to commit to doing whatever’s necessary.

Her long, red-tipped fingers wrap around my palm, and she stares down at where we’re connected and then closes her eyes for ten seconds. I wait impatiently for her to open them again, staring a hole right through her face until she does.

She smirks as soon as she sees the intensity of my stare. “Jude’s fate has proved to bring him great happiness, wouldn’t you agree?”

Her question is an earthquake, shaking the shit out of my equilibrium, and all I can do is nod.

“I know you think I was only partially right about Remy, but my dear, you left before I finished giving his fortune,” she continues. “His time will come. An unexpected second chance will enter into his life and change everything.”

“You realize it’s been fourteen years, right? I mean, fate sure seems to be taking her sweet-ass time to make all your kooky predictions come true.” I laugh at the absurdity of it all. “Have you ever thought that you’re just not very good at your job?”

“Fate works on her own timeline.” She runs her index finger over the creases etched in my palm. “You four men are stubborn mules when it comes to finding love. You fight it. Refuse it. Ignore it. Over and over again. But it’s understandable, with how you’ve seen things go with your father and Remington.”

My father? Ha. That asshole hasn’t been in the picture since we were kids. He’s a nonexistent factor—and as far from a dad as you can get.

“I know you’re here because, deep down, you’re worried. Maybe even a little scared.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m not scared.”

Cleo grins. “Of course you’re not scared. Ty is never scared of anything, right? He’s the adventure-seeker, the lover of action, and the most fun any woman can have.”

Finally, she’s saying shit that makes sense.

“That sounds like me.”

“Don’t worry, you still have time, my child.”

Time? I question silently to myself. Time for what exactly?

I’m thirty-nine years old, and I fucking love my life. I love the way I live my life, and I love my job as a professor at NYU. I don’t need time for anything besides more of my kind of fun.

“You still have time to keep living in your comfort zone,” she expands. “Time to avoid commitment. Time to keep having the kind of fun you think you want.”

“I think I want?” I narrow my eyes. “Cleo, doll, I have the fun I want. Period. End of story.”

“Of course you do,” she responds, her voice placating. “And you can relax into the truth of knowing you still have time to play your games. You still have time to keep finding brief companionship with women who catch your eye. You still have time to leave a trail of broken hearts in the wake of your fun.”

“A trail of broken hearts? Let’s not be so dramatic. These women know the deal.”

Sure, I have strong tendencies to date around and to stick with one woman for only a short amount of time, but that’s just who I am. And I sure as hell am not purposely leaving a trail of broken hearts behind me. Considering I rarely date one woman for more than a few weeks, the mere idea of that is ridiculous. I mean, no one can fall in love that quickly.

Trail of broken hearts, my ass.

“One day, you’ll see the truth,” Cleo states. “But you can hold steadfast in the knowledge that there’s still time before fate decides she’s ready for you.”

I snort. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re not next. Fate is too busy with someone else at the moment.”