Series: Like Us Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 241
Estimated words: 236417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1182(@200wpm)___ 946(@250wpm)___ 788(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1182(@200wpm)___ 946(@250wpm)___ 788(@300wpm)
There are more wet eyes that surprise me. Like Winona’s.
“The beacon.” Cordelia smiles, but it teeters in and out like she’s overwhelmed. “Will you take a seat?” She motions to the chairs blocking the TV. Where everyone can stare.
“Uh…” Will she predict my future like Oscar and Jack’s? “I…”
“Take your time. I’ll return,” Cordelia says kindly, then holds out a hand to Eliot. “You’d like to go in her place.” It’s not a question.
“She knows me so well,” Eliot teases with an alluring smile. “To the stage?”
“If you wouldn’t mind.”
“I’d love nothing more.” Eliot walks backwards to give me two thumbs up like it’s easy peasy. Not so hard.
I exhale and check on Donnelly.
He’s whispering with Farrow and patting Orion. I ease more knowing he’s not worried about me or alarmed about her energy reads.
As Cordelia takes Eliot’s hand and examines the lines in silence, quiet conversations escalate throughout the room. Tom watches his brother intently, but I sip my seltzer and do a quick people-watch sweep. Ben has left the iron staircase. He’s much closer to where I stand because I catch him whispering to Vada.
“Are you with Easton?” he whispers.
What?! It nearly snaps my neck in their direction.
“That’s not what I wanted to talk about.” Vada sounds frustrated.
“His hand touched your thigh weirdly.”
“Mine touched his too. Probably weirdly by your definition, but whatever. Look, before Winona kills me for asking—what’d you do to get the T-Bags to stop messing with her?”
“Why?”
“I just want to know, Ben,” Vada whisper-hisses. “Please.”
“Nothing, I did nothing.”
I strain my ears, but their conversation has ended. Quick peek over, and I realize Ben has moved away from Vada and sunk back on the iron staircase. He’s on his phone now.
“There, there,” Cordelia runs her fingers down Eliot’s palms, then intakes a deep breath and stares upward at the ceiling. “‘These violent delights have violent ends, And in their triumph die like fire and powder, Which as they kiss consume.’”
Tom leans into me to whisper, “Romeo and Juliet. She must know Eliot is a thespian.”
Eliot grins and applauds. “Perfect oration.”
Cordelia smiles sadly at him. “You will help the voiceless find a voice, but it won’t be without consequence.”
“Ominous,” Eliot widens his eyes with a smile. “What else?”
She pats the top of his hand. “Continue to love with your whole heart. It’s why they all love you with theirs.”
I brighten and whisper to Tom, “That’s really sweet.”
“Yeah, and she got you again.”
It’s not so bad to intake the hopeful, loving messages and disregard the sad ones. Even if they aren’t real future predictions—we can still believe in the good. At this, she releases Eliot from the spotlight, and she whirls around.
Her attention lands on me. “Ready now?” Her voice is so soft and gentle, I find myself nodding.
Eliot’s reading was more ambiguous than I thought it’d be. I can do ambiguous. So I walk forward and plop into the creaky kitchen chair. Eyes are hot on me, but I concentrate more on the frayed strings of my jean shorts.
“Wonderful. Now…” Cordelia says soothingly. “You, again.” She’s picked out Donnelly from the crowd. “The moment has come. Would you join her, please?”
I open my mouth to relinquish him of this obligation. He might not want his future read, but he’s already at my side, taking the seat. When our eyes meet, a grin spreads across his mouth, and it really is like we’re two astronauts piloting a spacecraft together.
Destination: Unknown.
Is Cordelia our map?
Or maybe it’s what Jane said. She’s reading our body language. Our gazes that clutch tightly and caress softer—his hand that naturally slips on top of mine while my fingers dig into the seat. It’s reassurance and caring and love.
I breathe easier.
He grins wider.
“How long you’ve traveled to be where you are,” Cordelia begins, a sentimental look in her eyes, and she takes our palms. One in each of her hands.
My pulse flies away from my body as she inspects my small, soft hand to Donnelly’s much larger. His is scarred and callused in comparison. No one is murmuring or muttering like when Eliot was here. They’re transfixed silently on us, and I see Donnelly rethinking this.
Maybe we should end it early. Get up? Leave?
“You have matching lifelines.” She peers from one palm to the other. “They are so very, very long.” Don’t cry. Don’t cry. My eyes glass. I hear a few gasps and thank Gods mumbled.
Donnelly grins over at me, and I murmur so quietly that only he could possibly hear, “Everlasting, we are.”
He leans in—his gaze straight ahead while his lips brush my ear. “I knew it from the start.”
I turn my head a fraction, our lips nearly skimming. “I believe it,” I whisper. Because Donnelly has always believed in me. He’s always believed in himself. Then when there was an us, he believed in that too.