“You try again,” she says. “I did with your grandfather. And it wasn’t because I was confident it would work—it was because I couldn’t stand the thought of not trying.”
This is stupid advice. “Gigi, you only tried again with grampa because he didn’t run away. He was just confused.”
“Did Luke run away?” she asks.
“Yes,” I say, but then I think about it. “No, actually, he got pulled away for work.”
Gigi just shrugs.
“But I was there, Gigi. I saw the look on his face; it was just like every other time. He wasn’t confused. He forgot.”
“Or maybe,” Gigi says, picking her spoon back up, “you saw what you expected to see.”
Later that night while I’m lying in my bed, I think about what Gigi said.
I imagine myself trying again with Luke, but this time with none of our history. Because if the curse did its work, he has no memory of his feelings for me anymore.
Could I try again on the chance that I’m wrong, and stand losing him all over again?
I don’t know. But Gigi’s voice keeps coming back to me.
You saw what you expected to see.
Chapter 25
PR Tip #42:Sometimes winning looks nothing like you thought it would.
“What happened to you?” a worried-faced Sam says when she finds me in the kitchen the next morning, leaning against the counter, a cup of coffee in my hands.
“Nothing,” I say.
She stares at me, hands on hips. “Your puffy face and red eyes would say otherwise. What’s going on?”
Oh, just the thing I’ve been trying to avoid, and it was worse than I ever imagined.
Translation: My life sucks.
I blink rapidly, trying to push back tears. The only thing keeping me from a full breakdown is that I won’t have to see him forthe next couple of days. Hopefully, I can pull myself together by the time I do. The outlook is bleak, though.
She takes a step toward me. “Come on, Claire. Tell Dr. Sam what’s happening.”
“Dr. Sam?”
“Just trying it out.” She yanks on the sleeve of my pajamas. “Now spill it.”
“Luke and I kissed,” I say, blinking again.
Sam’s eyes widen, a smile spreading across her face. “You kissed? I knew you would! This is . . . Wait.” Her face falls. “You’re crying. What happened?”
I give her a shrug, a tear rolling down my cheek. I tear off a piece of paper towel from a roll on the counter and dab at it. So much for trying not to look like I’ve been sobbing off and on for the past fourteen hours.
Her brows knit. “The curse?”
“Yep,” I say. “Kiss number fifty ended the same way they always do.”
It’s actually going to be easy to quit after this one. I may never kiss another man again for as long as I live.
“Oh, Claire, I’m so sorry,” she says, her eyes crestfallen. “Tell me what happened.”
