“Have you talked to your mom about Owen?” she asks mischievously.
I have what you could call a complicated family dynamic. My birth mom passed, and my dad was…well, that’s a long story, but he’s not in my life anymore, for damn good reasons. My three younger siblings were adopted by one of the fiercest, proudest women who ever walked the earth, Keres, and she kind of unofficially adopted me too. Katy has met her and knows she is not to be messed with.
“Uh, no, obviously. She’d be on the next flight from Chicago, and poor Owen wouldn’t have a dick come morning.”
Katy laughs. She thinks I’m joking. I’m not entirely sure I am. Keres would do anything to protect the people she loves.
For that reason, I’d never tell her about something as unimportant as one lame-ass gym-rat douche-nozzle. I wouldn’t threaten her peace with that. As shitty as he is, there are plenty of worse people out there who need to be flayed from the balls up. One in particular comes to mind, but I shake away those memories like I always do, refusing to give them any space in my life.
I feel better as I think about my latest doomed relationship. He really is trivial. I’ll have forgotten his name by this time next month.
Unlike Mad Dog Murphy, of course, who's stayed with me for all these years. It’s not even his real name. I wonder why he went by it when he was traveling. What was he running away from?
He told me some of it, that one night we spent talking. He opened up about losing his mom, and about mourning a girlfriend who took her own life. I recall how he spoke about having a kind of darkness inside himself that he could never fully escape, but even after that admission I could only see the light in him. We all have dark parts of ourselves we don’t want others to see.
He mentioned his family too, how much he loved them but how difficult a situation it was. He never gave me specifics.
It’s odd now, to realize that he was talking about Mason and Elijah and the other James men. How strange that we circled back to each other. Strange, and a little unsettling.
“Where have you disappeared off to, Ellie?” Katy asks. “You looked a million miles away then. Were you thinking about Owen?”
“No. No, I really wasn’t. In fact, Owen who?”
“That’s the spirit.”
I finish my wine, and she asks if I want another bottle. I shake my head. I’ve had enough, and she has a hot date with her non-BF to get too.
“I’m okay, thanks Katy. But… Do you… do you believe in fate?”
“Wow. That’s a big question. Um, I don’t know, babe. I mean, life sometimes feels chaotic, and I think maybe us puny humans like to believe there’s more reason to things than there is? I say this as someone who grew up in a big Irish family and went to Mass every Sunday. I don’t know if God—or yes, I know, Goddess—is real, but I do know religion can be a source of comfort for people. Same way that others believe in star signs, or destiny, or whatever. Why do you ask? No, hold that thought. I’m getting us a cocktail for this conversation. No arguments.”
She’s back before I know it, holding two tall glasses, both neon pink. “What the hell is in that?”
She shrugs. “No clue. I just asked the bartender to make me something that suited me.”
She sips it and grimaces. “And apparently, he thinks a drink that’s bright pink but lethal fits the bill.”
I laugh, taking in her pretty blonde hair and her cute button nose. She’s petite and looks harmless, but she’s one of the strongest people I know. I think the bartender nailed it.
“So, why are you asking about fate? What’s happened? There’s something. Tell Auntie Katy all about it.”
“Mmm, well. It’s about a guy.”
“Another one?” One eyebrow raises. I’m usually not juggling men the way she is.
“Yeah, another one. The only thing Owen was fated for was me kicking him out of my life. No, this guy…well, you know I did some traveling after college?”
“Yes. Your big tour. Europe and North Africa, right?”
“Right. So, near the end of it, I was in Marrakech, and I met this guy.”
She leans forward, her chin propped up into the palms of her hands, eyes twinkling.
“That sounds promising. An exotic lover from a distant land?”
“Far from it. He was American, funnily enough. And he wasn’t my lover. I hoped he would be, but it was a swing and a miss.” I grimace, feeling a wash of embarrassment. I don’t need to be embarrassed around Katy, but still, it’s a powerful emotion. Not even your best friend can silence your insecurities forever.
“He rejected you?” she says, sounding incredulous.
