“We will be okay with whatever you’re having,” one of the ladies says.
“Great,” Nate says. “I’m placing an order rig
ht now.” He starts tapping his phone.
Tony looks at me. “So when are you finally going to introduce us to Ms. Fifty Dollars?”
“I thought she’d be here too,” Ivy says.
That reminds me of Skittles’ family dinner, which darkens my mood. “She has this thing with her folks. But she said she’d stop by after she’s finished.”
“Cool. I’ve been dying to meet Smarties,” Nate says.
I run my hands over my face.
“Who’s Smarties?” Yuna asks.
Nate gestures at me. “The girl he’s dating. He named her after some candy.”
I shake my head at his shameless inability to remember. So like Nate. “Skittles, not Smarties. But to all of you, she’s Pascal.”
Yuna scrunches her face. “That’s not fair. I want to give her a name.”
I pull back a little. With Yuna, you never know what’s going to come next. “Like what?”
“Destiny.”
“No. Way too clichéd.” Not to mention I had an encounter with a hooker named Destiny in Vegas last year. It seemed like a good idea at the time, since a fortune cookie told me I’d meet my destiny in the far west, plus I was drunk.
But Yuna wouldn’t be Yuna if she just accepted my no. “It seems so fitting. She is your destiny.”
I pause. Unlike Yuna, I don’t believe in karma or fate or any of that stuff. Shit just happens. And it happens when it happens and at the pace it happens. And nothing I do matters. If it did, my family wouldn’t have been shattered, Dad wouldn’t be asking me to join Blackwood Energy against my wishes, Mom wouldn’t be…
I pull myself from the downward spiral of ugly thoughts, not wanting to dwell on the past. “You can call her”—I pointed at Ivy—“Destiny.”
Yuna shrugs. “Too confusing. There can be only one Destiny.”
“Yeah. For Tony.”
“I’m pretty happy with just Ivy,” Tony says.
Just then, the doorbell rings. Surprised, I turn around. There’s no way it’s the pizza already. And it’s too early for Skittles to be here.
But when I open the door, Skittles walks in. Just the sight of her creates such warmth that pure pleasure washes over me, erasing everything from my mind except light happiness. My bliss vanishes in a nanosecond as I notice she’s not glowing. On the contrary: she’s looking tense and pensive.
Which, with Skittles, is the equivalent of a normal woman sobbing.
What the hell happened? “You’re back early,” I say, and give her a soft kiss on the cheek. “Everything okay?” I whisper.
“Yeah,” she says. The smile she gives me is about ten percent of its normal wattage.
I want to drag her away and ask her what’s wrong, but I feel the intensely curious gaze of my family and friends. I’m not going to get any private time with her until I introduce her to everyone first.
I steer her to the center of the room, then gesture with a flourish.
“Everyone, meet Pascal. Pascal, that’s my brother Tony and his wife Ivy. That’s Yuna, who is Ivy’s best friend and, uh, soul sister.”
Skittles blinks. “Soul sister?”