“You did?”
“I mean, I’d hoped maybe you’d come around? But I’ve come to realize that we’re better off as friends. You’re an amazing person and I’m grateful for the time we spent together, but something about us just doesn’t—”
“Click,” I finish. “Just because we’re two good people doesn’t mean we’re good together.”
“Exactly. And come on.” He nudges me with his elbow. “I can see the way you look at Perry. You never looked at me like that. And you sure as hell never kissed me like that.”
Heat climbs up my neck and I look away. Time to change the subject. “Did you hear back from Sadie?”
“I tried calling her again last night and left her a voice mail, but she hasn’t called me back. I can’t believe what a monumental asshole I was to her, which I detailed at great length in my message.”
“Give her time.”
“Are you ready?” Charlotte interrupts us, eyebrows raised expectantly.
Devin and I exchange wry grins. “As we’ll ever be,” he says.
“All right then. If we could have quiet, please,” the cameraman shouts at the crowd of people. “We’re going live in five, four…” He holds up three fingers, then two, then points to Charlotte, who pastes a beaming smile onto her face.
“Good afternoon, Cleveland! This is Charlotte Owens, Channel Six, coming to you live from the Ohio City Flower & Beer Festival. I’m with local attorney Cass Walker and development manager Devin Szymanski, and they’re here to share a story of wonder, fate, and true love. So, Cass, you were in a car accident a year ago that landed you in a coma for six days, isn’t that correct?”
My heart hammers so fast I’m sure it’s pulsing visibly beneath my blouse, but I force myself to smile. “That’s right, Charlotte.”
“And while you were in a coma, you dreamed of this man here, Devin Szymanski. Except—here’s the kicker, folks,” she says directly to the camera, “you had never actually met him before?”
“Correct. Although he wasn’t only in my dreams. When I woke up, I remembered him, as though we knew each other well and had been dating for several months.”
“So you remembered going on a first date together, heartfelt conversations, months of getting to know each other?”
“Exactly. But that was over a year ago, and until this June I thought I’d imagined him—that he wasn’t real. I had no evidence to suggest he was. My doctors agreed. My case was even featured in a peer-reviewed journal article my neurologist wrote several months later titled ‘Coma-Induced False Memory Generation: A Case Study.’？”
“Except I am. Real, that is.” Devin winks at the camera, turning up the charm to eleven.
Charlotte blushes—actually blushes—at his smile.
“So tell us, what happened?” she asks Devin.
“We met for real in June. Cass had recently moved to Ohio City and stopped by my brother’s flower shop, Blooms & Baubles, the host of today’s Flower & Beer Festival.” He turns to the camera with a dazzling smile. “If you haven’t already, come on down to West Twenty-Eighth and Providence. The festivities will run until five this evening.” Charlotte’s lips thin in apparent annoyance. She probably doesn’t appreciate Devin hijacking her interview with his own personal ad, but she seems to let it slide.
“And then you started dating,” she prods.
Devin nods. “I was skeptical at first. I mean, what a story, right? But all her claims checked out, and the more time I spent with her, the more I wanted to get to know her. Now here we are, two months later, and we couldn’t be happier.”
“There you go, folks. A beautiful story of fate bringing people together.”
I find Perry in the crowd. His face has gone ashen and I stare at him, willing him to trust me. To stay and listen, just a little longer.
“Not exactly, Charlotte,” I say with a smile.
Her long, false lashes flutter against her cheeks. “Oh? How would you describe it then?”
“I don’t know, to be honest. I struggled for a very long time over the question of fate and its role in the events of my life. Was my car accident and the resulting months of gut-wrenching struggle part of fate’s plan? If so, what does that say about the nature of fate, that it would condone such pain? And then there were my memories of Devin. Can you imagine what it’s like to wake up from a terrible car accident only to discover that the one person you want to see is, in fact, not real? And how difficult it is when your own mind is untrustworthy, when you begin to question the very basis of who you are?