A Little Like Fate (Robin and Tyler 1)

Her eyebrows rise, making her forehead crinkle. “Seriously? What do you think?”

“No?” I ask, dumbfounded. Why would Maggie lie to me like that? What did she have to gain?

Miranda kicks her acorn toward me and I kick mine back toward her. “Mom bought me this stupid pink puffy dress but I kept telling her I didn’t want to go. Prom is for idiots. She was so pissed about it too. That’s the night I, er, well…”

“The night you what?”

She shoves her hands in her pockets. “The night Sperm Donor and I had sex for the first time.”

“Sperm Donor?”

“His name is Donovan. But in the end he was just a sperm donor, huh? It’s a better name for him, I think.”

It occurs to me now just how massively little I know about my niece. “Tell me why Maggie kicked you out.”

Miranda’s face turns red. “She was already pretty mad at me for dropping out of school, and I kept promising I’d get a job but no one would hire me. She walked in my room without knocking and I had the pregnancy test sitting on my nightstand.”

My stomach knots up at the visual in my head. Miranda continues. “She started screaming and freaking out and throwing my stuff around. She told me to get out and never come back. She said I was dead to her.”

“I can’t imagine my sister doing that,” I say.

Miranda crosses her arms. “Fine, don’t believe me. No one else does.”

“Hey. That’s not what I meant.”

We’re almost at the diner now, and Miranda picks up her pace. “I should have never come to you,” she says over her shoulder.

I jog to catch up. “Don’t say that.”

“No. I shouldn’t have come. I’m so sorry I was stupid enough to find you. I was temporarily insane and didn’t know where else to go.” She’s powerwalking now, her long legs making it difficult for me to keep up with her at a walking pace.

“Miranda!”

“Donovan wasn’t answering my texts, not that he even gave a shit about me anyhow. I’m just a stupid dropout airhead, huh? That’s what everyone in school thinks.” Her voice cracks as tears fill her eyes. I jog up to her and grab her arm but she pulls away. “Don’t touch me. You don’t even like me. You felt sorry for me—”

“Miranda, you know that’s not true,” I say, trying to calm her down before we get to the diner. The last thing we need is to make another embarrassing entrance and ruin everyone’s breakfast.

“It is true. I ruin everything and now I’ve ruined your dramatic little runaway.”

“Wait, what?” Dramatic little runaway? That’s what she thinks I’m doing? “I’m not running away,” I say with contempt. “And I’m not being dramatic about it.”

“Excuse you, yes you are.” Her voice drips with sarcasm. “Packing up in the middle of the night and not telling anyone? You think Grandma will approve of that? Does she even know?”

My chest tightens at the mention of Mom. “She doesn’t know. She doesn’t need to know.”

“That’s what I thought. You have some mental breakdown and embarrass yourself and think that running away will solve all your problems.” We reach the door to the diner and Miranda wrenches it open with her head held proudly in the air, her swollen nose unafraid of being faced with the door again.

Elizabeth is all smiles and greets us with a, “Good morning Robin and Miranda! So glad to see y’all! Your nose looks much better. You can hardly tell.”

Miranda smiles and gives Elizabeth a tiny one-armed hug like they’ve been best buddies all their lives. As Elizabeth leads us to our regular spot at the bar, Miranda turns back and whispers, “Guess what? Running away won’t solve anything.”

I’m chewing my bacon, ignoring Miranda and wallowing in self-depreciating thoughts when someone sits next to me at the bar and orders a Chipotle-Style Big Breakfast with an extra side of bacon and sausage. He could have just saved himself all the extra words and asked for one Heart Attack. The voice is vaguely familiar. Deep, southern.

My fork drops to my plate. It’s the guy from last night and he’s totally sitting next to me.

And I’m sober now, so who knows what he looks like. He’s probably missing half his teeth or something. I look to my left at Miranda. She’s been ignoring me this whole time too, but at least she’s eating. Her plate is almost empty. “Hey,” I whisper as quietly as possible, so the guy’s probably huge hillbilly inbred ears don’t hear me. “It’s that guy I fell on last night.”

She looks up with zero interest and glances behind m