His name is Milo. I might have a son, and his name is Milo.
I might also not have a son, but the kid looks just like me. He’s probably about the right age too. Holy fuckletwigs, ticklefucks, and fucklestinks.
Charlotte and Milo make a quick exit. I think they want to get away while the going is good, meaning while Luna isn’t blazing fire out of her eyes and nose and belching smoke out of her mouth about the ruined things upstairs, which is probably where she lives—on top of her store. This building and business are hers. She always did love jewelry. How many times was I an asshole to her about it? How many times did I tell her that a stable business plan didn’t involve selling old things and making things, no matter how good she might be at it?
Yes. Because I—with my Business Degree—was so very knowledgeable about the way life worked. I wish I could go back six years and kick my younger self in the nuts because I was a real ass for a long time before I broke her heart. If I did that, would it damage said nuts and cause me to not be standing here right now, wondering if I might have fathered an actual human being Luna ‘forgot’ to tell me about? Yeah, probably. But nuts are tough. They can usually withstand a few swift kicks. At least, I think so.
But it’s not like I’ll get to test my theory since time machines aren’t a thing.
I also didn’t know being a father was a thing, at least when it came to me being one, and look where I am now.
After the door shuts behind the babysitter and my maybe son, I give Luna the kind of look that says I deserve an explanation. Luna knows me well. She knew me well, and now it serves her well. We didn’t just date for a hot minute. We were together for two years before I panicked and called it quits. Yeah, I’m not proud of it, but it’s what happened.
Luna’s hard staredown tells me she hasn’t forgotten a single word that was said, any of my excuses, expressions, and the emotions I denied her because I thought it was the right thing to do when breaking up.
It’s been five years, and it’s clear she hasn’t forgiven me either.
“I owe you nothing,” she says. Yup, she read me right.
She grabs the purple velvet bag she deposited the bracelet into earlier, and without looking at me, she thrusts it across the counter. That’s the only thing separating us—two feet of glass. And it’s not two feet thick either since the counter is hollow in the middle and has things on display. Two feet of glass, several feet of air, a few necklaces, bracelets, earrings, and five years are all that separates us, so it’s a little more intense than I first made out.
“Just take this and please leave.”
Fuckletwigs. The bracelet.
I got a little distracted there for a minute when I saw my maybe son, but I put that aside for just a brief second because the bracelet is here—my bracelet. The cursed artifact Granny gave to me. All my cousins and siblings got one, and I happened to get this bracelet. The artifacts are supposed to indicate our soulmate or some nonsense, though I never believed in it. In the curse, I mean. The five of us—my brother, sister, and my two cousins, who are like brothers to me—all made a pact that we wouldn’t let the curse ruin or direct our lives.
Then six months ago, Ash met Ellis. She was working as his maid when really, she was an undercover journalist who wanted to ruin Ash’s life. Long story short, she put on the ring—perhaps the curse is actually real because it wouldn’t come off no matter how hard they tried to remove it—and then she and Ash worked out their differences, fell madly in love, and now they’re engaged. I just went to their engagement party last week. It had cake, and yes, it was absolutely delicious.
What happened to Ash made me sit up and take the curse more seriously. We all thought it was hokey before. We live in New Orleans, and our Granny can be a bit off the wall, so when she gave us those cursed heirlooms a few years ago, we didn’t take it seriously. Yes, we made a pact on the off chance that shit could get real because it’s Granny, after all. And we better take shit fucking seriously with Granny. Also, after what our dads did to our moms, nearly destroying our families—yes, my cousins’ dad took off too—and how we were raised, just by our moms as almost one big, mostly happy family, all of us are a little damaged and hesitant when it comes to love.