There is no such thing as a coincidence.
I raise my eyebrow. Ha . . . once upon a time I would have believed that.
“What did you get?” Christopher asks.
I throw my note over and he smiles. “Well, if that was the case, your life is one massive fucking web.”
I stare at him.
“You’ve got to admit, it’s pretty fucking freaky that you’ve been chasing this artist for years . . . and she turns up just when you found a girl you fell for. And you and Kate meeting online . . . out of all the people in the world, you met her. The woman you were already seeing.”
I frown as I listen. “It is weird . . . isn’t it?”
“I mean, what are the chances of that actually happening?”
“Next to none.” My mind begins to tick as I read the little fortune cookie note again.
There is no such thing as a coincidence.
I always believed in it, that everything happens for a reason. No event or person in your life happens by accident and yet, here I am.
I think hard . . . for a long time.
Why does it feel off, what am I missing?
But what if falling for Kate wasn’t a coincidence at all?
What if this is all the grand plan?
I read it again.
There is no such thing as a coincidence.
Hmm.
The next day I knock on Brad’s door. He opens it in a rush and his face falls as he sees me. “Hi.”
I smile. “Hi. I was wondering if you had a minute? I have a pressing question and you are the only one who I think will know the answer.”
“Umm.”
My eyes search his. “Please.”
He steps aside and I walk in and take a seat on the couch.
He sits down. “What’s up?”
“So . . .” I pause as I try to articulate my thoughts. “I have a feeling that I’m missing something.”
“What do you mean?”
“I believe I was meant to meet Kate.”
He listens.
“And I also believe that I was meant to meet the artist, but for what reason I don’t know.”
He frowns as if confused.
“Do you believe in fate, Brad?” I ask.
“Maybe.” He sits back in his chair. “Didn’t think you would be the kind of man who would, though.”
“Hmm.” I think for a moment. “Is there something I’m missing?”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know, I keep getting the feeling I’m missing something, but I don’t know what it is.”
Brad exhales. “She reads your letters.”
“She does? What did she say?”
“Nothing, only that you write to her every day and that it makes her happy.”
I smile as hope fills me.
“You know, for the first time since Mum and Dad died, she sounds back to herself.”
“What do you mean?”
“She’s working nights and learning how to cross-stitch like Mum used to do. She even started painting again.”
What?