Her words make me burst into laughter.
“Yeah, okay,” I say and tug my hand out of her grasp. “Whatever you say.”
“Fate will find you soon enough. But right now, there’s someone else whose life is changing as we speak.”
I quirk a challenging brow, and Cleo’s steady eyes never waver from mine.
“You’ll know what I mean soon enough. Just give it time, my dear.”
“Give it time? Like I said, it’s already been fourteen years, Cleo. And frankly, the only one you sort of got right was Jude.”
“All of Jude’s predictions came true. It’s the whole reason you came here. Because it scared you to think that I held all the answers.”
“Yeah, well, you say give it time, and I say it’s already been a lot of fucking time.”
“Well, my handsome professor, you’re about to see fate work her magic with another one of your brothers. And then, she’ll move to you.”
“Is that right?” I question with narrowed eyes. “And what exactly is fate going to do with me? Maybe you should give me a reminder?”
Truthfully, I don’t need a reminder, but there’s no way this woman even remembers what she said to me all those years ago.
Her responding smile is unsettling. “There’s a kinship between you and Eve that’s unmistakable. The forbidden fruit will prove irresistible for you, and I’m afraid you’ll take more than a bite. The secret of this indiscretion will bring turmoil and pain. The journey will be rife with unrest, but the end will bring you great joy and relief.”
Word for word, she tells me exactly what she told me on the night of Rem’s bachelor party, and it closes my throat, robbing me of a comeback.
I wish I could say my contributions to the MTA were worth it. But I’ll be fucked if I’m not more messed up now than I was when I decided to come here.
I glance at my watch and then back up at Miss Cleo, whose smile is the kind that makes you want to shove your middle finger in someone’s face.
I’m not quick enough, though, and instead, she gifts me with her own version of saying those words to me.
“Go, my child. You don’t want to be late to family dinner.”
Son of a bitch. I have to get out of here.
I jump up quickly and head for the entrance, not bothering with pleasantries for the woman of my nightmares. I shove out the door and fast-walk to my Range Rover, climb inside, and press the button to secure the locks immediately.
It’s a valiant effort, to run away from everything she said to me in there. Only problem is, locking that shit isn’t going to protect you from what’s already inside.
“Ty! Earth to Ty!” my mom calls, trying to grab my attention from across the island in the center of Wes and Winnie’s kitchen. When I finally look up, I’m met with a motherly glare so familiar, it’s nostalgic.
“What?”
She rolls her eyes. “Would you make yourself useful and get the door?”
“I know you’ve got a lot on your plate, standing there drinking a beer and all,” Winnie chimes in with sarcasm in her voice. “But as you can see, some of us are actually getting dinner ready.”
I look around her kitchen to find that, besides my mom, Aunt Paula, Winnie, and Jude’s fiancée Sophie, I’m the only other person in the room. Everyone else—Jude, Remy, Uncle Brad, Winnie’s husband Wes, and my niece Lexi—is outside on the back terrace.
“You okay?” Sophie asks, her lips cresting up into a soft smile as she searches my eyes. She seems serious enough, but I can barely find my tongue inside my mouth, let alone use it.
Truthfully, I can’t even make sense of the concept of time. It was daylight when I went in to see Crazy Cleo and dark when I left, and the time I remember spending inside doesn’t add up. It’s as if I got momentarily lost in another dimension.
So, no, I’m not okay, but I refuse to tell anyone in my family about my little day-trip. No doubt, my brothers would have a field day with that information. Plus, the four of us have an unspoken rule to never talk about the green-eyed witch-teller ever again.
Although Jude didn’t exactly live by the rule, did he? The bastard. If it weren’t for him being all boozed up in Vegas and confiding in me like we were two chicks on Gossip Girl, I wouldn’t even have been busy with this crap.
When I realize Sophie is still looking at me curiously, more so now that I’ve detoured to a fucked-up filmstrip of memories in my head, I quickly brush off her question.
“I’m always good, Soph,” I say with a half smile, hopping off the barstool to answer the door at the same time. At this point, whoever it is has probably started to wonder if they’re ever going to be let inside.