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daughters and tell them they’re amazing and perfect.
I guess Sandra didn’t get the memo.
Shit, the text. Good lord, why can’t I focus?
Emily stared at the screen again. Her tears hadn’t fallen,
thank God, and her eyes were dry enough that all the letters
finally made words.
If you’re still looking for a wife, come to the shop for
another reading. Or should I say, a reading, not another
reading. Who knows? Maybe this time the cards will have
something to say you might be interested in hearing.
The text was so wild that Emily forgot all about being in the
middle of class. She couldn’t sit through another forty-five
minutes of the dry as stale bread lecture and pretend to be
interested. Not with a text like that sitting on her phone.
Feigning an emergency, which was probably completely
unnecessary, because again it was college and people could
come and go when they wanted, choose not to attend class,
miss lectures if they wanted to, she grabbed her bag, stuffed
her textbook, pen, paper, and phone inside, and walked out as
quietly as she could.
In the near empty hallway, Emily let out her breath. She’d
been holding it since reading that crazy text. She still wasn’t
even sure if she’d read it right. Or if it was even real. Maybe
she’d sat there and zoned out so hard that she’d imagined the
whole thing. If she was starting to have stress-induced
hallucinations, that was not a good thing.
She pulled out her phone and studied it again, half expecting
the text to be something else entirely or not be there at all. But
it was. And it really was what she’d read the first time.
Clapping a hand over her mouth to keep in an excited shout,
