Lovers Like Us (Like Us 2)

“What the…” Beckett trails off, his brows cinched.

Smoky purple makeup shadows her eyes, and she aims for our table.

Patricia motions to the woman. “This is Fontina the Fortunate, my sister-in-law. All readings complimentary with your meals. Good luck, and I’ll be back with your drink and food.”

Oscar mutters to me, “Yeah, I’m not feeling this place.”

“Good luck?” Jane repeats and exchanges a wary look with Maximoff.

The other end of the table is quiet and curious. Mine is about to self-eject. Minus me. This shit is harmless.

But I understand how protective Jane and Maximoff are towards their cousins and siblings. I’m sure they don’t want a stranger telling them that they’re about to die. Or that their future is bleak and miserable.

Fontina slinks around us, her manicured nails skating across the backs of our chairs. “I feel a strong energy in the room.”

Sitting backwards on his chair, Donnelly smokes another cigarette. “It’s me, right? I know I’ve got some strong ass energy.”

“That’s just your breath,” Oscar quips.

Donnelly blows him a middle-finger kiss.

“No, no, it’s not you.” Fontina circles the table. Eyelids hovering closed, she sucks in a breath through her nostrils. “It’s here.” She waves a hand towards my end. “No, wait…” She wavers.

I can’t help but fucking smile.

Patricia carries out our drinks, setting them down, and once she leaves, Fontina reanimates and places a hand on Sulli’s head.

Maximoff goes rigid.

Sulli tries not to laugh.

“You, dear,” Fontina muses.

“Yeah?” Sulli says.

“I sense…strong feelings around you. A destiny that you cannot control.”

Vague.

Beckett makes a that’s utter bullshit face.

Sulli contemplates this hard. “In what fucking way? Like swimming or…?”

“Love,” Fontina says.

“But I’ve never been in love,” Sulli mentions.

“I know, dear.”

“Because she just told you,” Beckett says pointedly, and Charlie smiles, halfway slouched in his chair.

Fontina ignores him and puts another hand on Sulli’s head. “You’re a determined spirit, a go-getter, and many admire that…but there’s a man who protects you most strongly…” Her hands drift to Sulli’s cheeks, and Sulli stiffens, about 70% uncomfortable. “And you will fall—”

“No one’s fucking falling,” Maximoff interjects, forearms on the table to have a better view of his cousin.

Fontina lets go of her and circles the table, and Sulli mouths, thanks to Maximoff. Grateful for redirecting the spotlight.

I still teeter on my chair legs and fold a straw paper.

“You two…” Fontina muses, her hand hovering above my head and Maximoff’s. “Powerful forces…connect you two in this life…and your past lives…”

A smile edges across my mouth, and I ask, “How much did he love me in our past lives?”

She sucks in a breath, channeling.

Maximoff blinks at me like I’ve asked a question that just sent him to hell. Also, he’s struggling not to look at my lips.

“…great, great love,” she muses. “It was…always you.”

Maximoff is almost flushed, his body unmoving. Rigid. He tunes out the audience of his family and security, and he stares at the table.

Wolf scout.

Normally he has a comeback, but I can tell he’s lost for a retort. I drop my chair legs and discreetly put a hand on his knee.

He’s still a marble statue.

“That’s beautiful,” Jane says, “and you can read them without tarot cards?”

“Mmmhhhmm,” Fontina answers. “I have an intuitive soul.”

Maximoff takes a swig of water and says genuinely, “That’s interesting.”

Fontina smiles, but then she frowns deeply and seizes my gaze. “You’re looking for someone, aren’t you?”

The air deadens. I’m not even sure if I believe this shit.

“Weird,” Donnelly says.

I’m still actively looking for multiple people. The stalker, the leaker—and my phone suddenly vibrates in my pocket. I reach for my cell.

“You’ll find them soon, very soon…” Fontina trails off as the waitress waltzes to our table with a large tray of food. The fortuneteller says silkily, “Enjoy your meal.” Then she leaves through the beaded entryway.

Jane asks the waitress, “How accurate is your sister-in-law with her readings?”

“I’d say about half is complete bull.” Patricia wipes her hands on her apron. “But she slides some truth in there every now and then. Need anything else?”

I tune out everyone and unlock my phone to a new text.

Harassment is a strong word. – Dad

My jaw muscle twitches. I text: What word would you use then? I send the message.

Maximoff hasn’t touched his food yet. “Bad news?”

“No news,” I say under my breath. “He’s being a vague asshole.” My attention drifts as Oscar pops a metal tin. “You seriously brought Audrey’s cookies here?” I didn’t even notice him carrying them.

“Yeah,” Oscar says. “We didn’t know if anything would be open, Redford. I was thinking ahead.”

My phone rattles on the table.

I would call it being proactive, productive, and professional. I shouldn’t be the primary care physician to your boyfriend. It’s a better role for you. Your talent shouldn’t be wasted. Do what you’re meant to do. – Dad

My nose flares. I grind my teeth, irritation crawling down my spine. I can’t discern whether he’s behind the Instagram account or the leak. He’s only referencing how he’s no longer Maximoff’s doctor. That incident alone sets me on an aggravated edge I rarely near.

I’m not replying back anytime soon. I pass my phone to Maximoff. Wanting to keep him in the loop. And I look across at Oscar, who eats a heart-shaped cookie whole.

“How’s the cookie, Oliveira?”

“Perfection.” He picks another one, and his eyes narrow at the icing. He goes very still, serious. More methodical.

Something’s not right.

I reach for the tin and sift through the cookies. Pink icing decorates half of them with two words: I’m sorry.

“I don’t understand it,” Oscar tells me. Neither do I.

“Did she get glasses?” I ask him. “Maybe she finally realized you’re not hot enough for special deliveries—”

He aggressively chucks a cookie at Maximoff, who catches it easily.

My brows arch at Oscar. “Fuck you,” I say and add a middle finger.

Oscar cracks a short-lived smile. He watches Maximoff inspect the I’m sorry cookie, then Jane sees them.

“I’ll call my sister.” Jane starts dialing a number, and Maximoff stares off in thought. The other end of the table is discussing the best barbecue they’ve ever had. I throw a wadded napkin at Akara.

He dodges. “Hey—”

“Catch.” I toss him a cookie.

“Fuck, are they moldy?” Sulli wonders, noticing us. “That’s the worst.”

“No, they’re not moldy,” Jane replies, phone to her ear.

Akara flashes the cookie to everyone.

Thatcher sets down a steak knife and zeroes in on Oscar. “Did you do something where she’d need to apologize?”

“No,” Oscar says seriously. “I don’t really talk to her. She sends me cookies, I eat them. That’s about it.”

Charlie scrapes his chair back, capturing everyone’s attention. “My little sister is fascinated with boys. But she crushes on ones she knows she can’t and will never have. Because she doesn’t actually want to see it through.” He stands and saunters over to Jane. “Audrey just likes the idea of love more than the reality.”

“Oui,” Jane agrees. “She borrowed all my Outlander novels a year ago, and I haven’t seen them s

ince. She loves a good romance.”

“Fictional romance,” Beckett emphasizes, rising to join his brother and sister, and Jane stands too. I take note of those three, the Cobalts, on their feet together.

Admittedly, I may not be that partial to the Cobalts, but I can tell when they sense something’s “afoot” in their family. Standing upright, their unity carries a profound strength that clenches the air. They may as well have buckled their armor and sheathed their weapons.

If I sense this, then so does Maximoff. He stares at his cousins, then at the phone. Weight strains the restaurant.

“Everyone quiet,” Jane says as the line connects. She presses speakerphone. “Audrey, I know it’s late, but Oscar just opened your cookie tin. He’s next to me, and you’re on speaker. We just wanted to know if everything’s okay.”

I hear sniffling. On the verge of tears.