Page 80 of Tony

She laughs. “That was my mother. Aren’t you glad you met her?”

I pick up the cup and peer down at the remnant tea leaves. “But what does it say? She didn’t tell me.”

“She spoke in code.”

“Code? That was vaguebooking at its best.”

“Welcome to the world of professional psychics. Where specifics are overrated and your success depends on how much information you already possess.”

“OK. Whatever. But she’s clearly not very concerned that we all might be caught in some kind of dirty FBI net. This whole trip was a waste.”

Soshee’s face falls a little.

“No. I didn’t mean it that way.” I take her hand in mine. “I’m really glad I got to meet her. I swear.”

“Liar.” She laughs. “I’m not taking it personally. Trust me. My mom is just… weird. I’ve learned to live with it.”

I squeeze her hand a little before I realize what I’m doing. And when she looks up at me, I can tell she’s holding her breath.

Is she hoping for a kiss?

I’m pretty sure I want to kiss this girl. Also very certain I don’t want to do it here. “It wasn’t a waste, Sosh. I could learn to like your mom.”

She stifles a laugh. “I’m sorry she didn’t give you any big revelations.”

“I wasn’t expecting any. Trust me.”

“And I’m sorry that she was so apathetic about our amazing cross-continent connection.”

“It is a pretty amazing connection, isn’t it?”

“Are you kidding me? Bright Berry Beach has a boutique two blocks from here. That can’t be a coincidence.”

“It can’t be,” I agree.

“We would’ve met eventually. Even if you didn’t come looking for Belinda.”

“I didn’t really—”

“It’s fine,” she says, placing a hand on my chest. I suck in a breath when she does that. Because she places the flat of her palm right over my heart. And I’m pretty sure she didn’t mean to turn that instinctive gesture into something more meaningful, but I stop breathing as the heat from her hand passes through my t-shirt and into my heart. “I’m not jealous of her.”

“Soshee.” I laugh. “You literally told me you were jealous of her yesterday.”

“Yeah. But that was when things were all about Vann.”

“And today things are not about Vann?”

She keeps her hand over my heart and it responds by beating a little faster. “No.” She says this simply and seriously. “They’re about you. Of course.”

“I see.”

She takes her hand away but the heat from her touch remains. I linger in that heat and then make a decision. “Soshee?”

“Hmm?”

We are standing too close. She is two steps away, if that. Her head is tilted up, her eyes locked with mine, her mouth slightly open and her chest rising and falling underneath her tank top . “Can we end this date now?”

Her chin juts back in surprise. “You want to end this date?”