I walked inside, my hands still shaking. I managed to order the drinks without puking or passing out. Then I sat at a table, head in my hands, trying to figure out what was wrong with me and why my body was having such an overblown reaction to letting Griffin go.
Nothing’s wrong with you. This is just what love feels like.I whimpered because it was true. I closed my eyes, seeing the way Griffin looked at me—with a breath-stealing intensity. His hand placed gently against the small of my back. His sweet whispered words all through the night.
Griffin loved me as much as I loved him. It was the love I’d always dreamed of.
And now I had to let him go.
I didn’t have a choice.
You have choices, I heard my mom’s voice in my head.
I looked up at the ceiling and glared, hoping she could feel it all the way in… wherever she was. Because I didn’t have a choice. If anyonedidn’thave choices and never had, it was me. And it washerfault.
I angrily fumbled in my pocket for my phone. Before I could lose my nerve, I hit send on the text.
And immediately burst into tears.
“No, no,no.” I pounded the phone against my forehead.
A few seconds later, the message failed to send.
“Oh, thank you, thank you.” I deleted the text like my phone had burst into flames, and erasing the words would put out the fire. Then I slapped a hand over my heart and dropped my head back onto the booth seat. “Fine,” I whispered. “Mom, God, Fate, Whoever’s In Charge, if I’m supposed to choose Griffin—no idea how I can possibly do that, by the way—but if I’m supposed to, please give me a sign.”
I needed a sign, or a miracle—a metaphorical parting of the Red Sea. And I needed itnow. Because if I went back to work, back to DayGlow, that was it. I wouldn’t be able to choose Griffin after that, even if I wanted to—and heaven help me, I did. Desperately.
“Here you go,” a little voice said.
I looked over to see an adorable boy of about nine or ten, with strawberry-blond hair and brown eyes, standing beside my table with my cold brew in his hands—no cream, no sweetener, my name written on the side in black Sharpie. Even this tasteless, disappointing waste of an Abraham Lincoln was a result of my contract.The undersigned, Juliette Serrant, shall consume no more than 1,200 calories per day. No sugar. No gluten. No joy.
The boy cleared his throat. Waiting for a tip, apparently.
“Oh, sorry.” I reached into my bag and handed him two dollars.
“No, thanks.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “My mom said you looked like you were having a bad day and asked me to bring it to you.”
I looked past him to see a middle-aged woman watching us by the counter. I waved. She winked and smiled. She must’ve recognized me.
“That was really sweet,” I said, taking the drink. “Thank you.”
“They said your other drink will be ready in a minute.” He turned to smile at his mom, and the light caught his hair. A gasp escaped before I could stop it. His hair wasn’t strawberry-blond as I’d originally thought. It was red. Light red, sure, but red nonetheless.
Could this be my sign?
How is this a sign? Plenty of people have red hair.
No, less than two percent of the population has red hair. You know that.
Still, meeting another redhead isn’t exactly sign-worthy. Get a grip.
The boy grinned. “My friends aren’t gonna believe it when I tell them I met you, Juliette Serrant.” I doubted any of his friends knew who I was. I doubted he had either until his mom told him thirty seconds ago. But it was sweet. “You’re really pretty.” His face lit up. “Andyou seem like a good person. Not fake-good either, real good. Most famous people aren’t good in real life, according to my mom. I can’t wait to tell her you’re not like most famous people.”
I swallowed and pulled my lips into something resembling a smile. “Well, thank you. You seem good too. The real kind.”
“I am,” he said proudly.
I smiled at his mom, sending her a silent,Good job, mama. “Would you mind if we took a selfie together?” I called to her. “I won’t post it.” I just wanted to remember this adorable boy who’d made things a little better.
She smiled and nodded.
