“My father’s death,” he murmured. “When I took over the company.”
“Another in your mid- to late thirties.” She paused and took a closer look. “Several, actually.”
“Bad things?”
She pursed her lips. “No, not necessarily. The way some of these are smaller and close together suggests they might be marriage and children.”
Nausea stirred in her gut as she thought about him with someone else. A wife who wouldn’t understand their relationship . . . and would be right not to.
She took another breath, hoping her hands didn’t start to shake, and decided it was safer to move on. “This is your head line.” The pad of her index finger rubbed over the line running above his life line. “You’re very intelligent.” She glanced up at him through her lashes. “But we knew that already.”
A gleam of reassurance filled his eyes. He always joked about being an idiot and a fool. It shocked her to realize that part of him actually believed it, his academic achievements in his teens and in college notwithstanding.
“See how it curves and is so long?” she asked, waiting for him to look. “That means you’re a creative thinker and problem solver.” Creative thinker, but not necessarily creative. What did she make of that?
“And my heart line?”
“Why are you so insistent on your heart line?” She was scared to study it.
“I want to know what my future holds.”
“Sometimes surprises are good.”
“What does it say?” he prodded.
She dragged her gaze from his again. She’d looked into his eyes for months without feeling this way, though she’d noticed from the start they were the perfect color—a warm golden brown. Why was she so drawn to them now? “It says . . .”
Noah’s phone rang and they both jumped, caught by surprise. He groaned and reluctantly pulled his hand from Libby’s. “I better check to see who it is.” Then he groaned again and rejected the call.
“Anything important?” she asked.
He frowned. “No, just some work thing.”
“Shouldn’t you take it?”
“No.” His answer was firm as he held out his hand. “Are you going to finish with my love line?”
She gave him a sad smile. “We both know how that one goes.”
“No, Lib. You don’t.”
Was he right? Could they really work? Because she knew that’s what he meant. The real question was what he wanted. A quick fling or something more? What if he didn’t run away from her if she told him she loved him? Could she really take the risk? She was terrified. She’d lost so much. She couldn’t lose him too.
“Why did you propose to Mitch?”
“What?”
“Libby.” He was more insistent. “I know about the curse.”
She looked up at him, blinking in confusion. “What?”
“The curse. You told me about the pact, but Josh told me about the curse.”
Humiliation burned her face. “What do you know?”
“I know you want to uphold the pact you and your friends made when you were girls, and I also know you believe you were cursed by a fortune teller.”
She closed her eyes. “And?”
“I’d rather hear it from you.” His voice was soft and understanding.
Her eyes opened. “You want to hear that I asked Mitch to marry me so the guy I was supposed to marry would show up?”
“Who was supposed to show up, Libby?”
Tears filled her eyes. “It’s stupid, I know. But the fortune teller said our weddings would be disasters and each of us would marry someone other than our intended.” She sucked in a breath. “It worked for Megan and Blair, so why wouldn’t it work for me? Especially since I was the one who believed in the curse the most. So I proposed to Mitch, expecting him to show up.”
His eyes hardened. “Who, Libby? Who did you expect to show up?”
Her voice broke. “I don’t know.”
His shoulders sagged, then he took her hand and cradled it between both of his.
She gave him a half-shrug. “Megan met Josh on that plane and Blair never thought she’d see Garrett again. Neither of them expected to marry the men they married. Megan didn’t even know Josh.” She paused. “I thought something like that would happen to me.”
“So that’s why you let Mitch plan the wedding and wouldn’t let him pay for it.” He seemed to be saying it more to himself than her. “You never wanted to marry him?”
“You must think I’m a total bitch.”
He slowly shook his head. “No, Lib. I love that about you.”
“That I intentionally hurt Mitch?” she asked in disbelief.
“No. That you believed in something so much you risked everything to make it happen.”
“Fat lot of good it did me. Tomorrow’s my birthday and look where I’m at.”
“You’re with me.” He studied her face as he wiped a tear from her cheek. “Libby, did you ever really think about who you were supposed to marry?”
She shook her head, but a little voice inside her head was screaming that the answer might be right in front of her. But her palm told her differently. Which did she believe? The curse or the lines on her palm? Could she believe in one without the other? She swallowed the lump in her throat. “It doesn’t work that way. I wasn’t supposed to know.”