Home > Books > The Redo (Winslow Brothers #4)(3)

The Redo (Winslow Brothers #4)(3)

Author:Max Monroe

The corner of her mouth hitches, and I know instantly that she’s heard that one too. Obviously, for as long as I’m here, she’s going to be eavesdropping on every single thought I have. And even though you fucking hate it, you came here for a reason. So, get to asking before she hears something you really don’t want her to, you bastard.

“How?” I blurt out. “How did you know?”

“How did I know that you weren’t going to get married?”

“Yeah, Cleo. That would be the big question that brought me here.” I snort in annoyance. I mean, fuck, it’s pretty obvious that’s the biggest question rolling through my mind. How did a random fortune-teller know I wasn’t going to get married before I did?

“Because fate whispers her plans into the universe, and my ears are always listening.”

I want to roll my eyes at her kooky explanation.

“I know the devastation is still there,” she adds. “And I know you’re still trying to understand why. But one day, you’ll realize that marriage wasn’t meant to be. The universe has other plans for you.”

All I can do is stare at her. Is she saying I’m going to be alone forever?

I always thought I’d be the kind of man who would settle down with someone, the kind of man who would plant roots and have a family. Not some never-to-be-married, lone-wolf, fifty-year-old sleazy bachelor.

“No, darling. That marriage wasn’t meant to be. The rest of your fortune is much brighter,” she states, and I search her eyes.

“What do you mean, the rest?”

“I mean, my dear Remington, I had more to tell you before you left. Though, Flynn did stay back to hear it.”

“He did?” I question, outright shocked by that revelation. “He hasn’t said a word about that shit to me. And it’s been a year, so I’m pretty sure he’s had an opportunity.”

“While I do agree that family shouldn’t keep things from one another, I think in these circumstances, it makes sense that he hasn’t told you.”

I raise one eyebrow at her. “And why would that make sense? It’s about me, I should fucking know.”

“Oh, darling, you’ve been too closed off. Too angry.” She raises a hand and gestures toward me. Even now, I’m practically vibrating.

I wish I could say she’s wrong, but for the past year, I’ve been a real unbearable asshole. But her being right, of course, only pisses me off more.

“Okay, fine. I’ll bite, Miss Cleo. What’s the rest of my supposed fortune?” I ask, disbelief and sarcasm still dripping from every word. “Am I going to move off-grid? Become some kind of loner from society? Or are you going to tell me I’m months away from winning the lottery and everything will start coming up roses?”

Cleo doesn’t balk at my words or my tone. For some reason, she seems immune to both, reaching out to take my hand and smiling softly when I pull it away. “Yes, you have experienced the great heartbreak I predicted, but there will be a chance for happiness for you. A redo, so to speak. But only if you learn to open your heart.”

“You’re serious?” A wolflike laugh jumps from my throat. “That’s the rest of my oh so great fortune? I’m just supposed to open my heart and all will be well?”

After Charlotte leaving me on our actual wedding day, when all our friends and family were there, waiting to watch us say “I do,” opening my heart to anyone sounds like the worst fucking idea in existence.

She nods with a patronizing tilt of her head. “It’s understandable that you’re not ready now, but one day, someone will walk back into your life, and it will have the power to change everything. Only you will be able to determine if it’s worth it to open yourself up again.”

“Someone, who?”

“Someone whom you still hold close in your heart.”

I narrow my eyes. “For a woman who can apparently read my mind and predict my goddamn future, you sure like to say a lot of vague shit.”

“Oh, my child,” she says with a knowing smile. The kind of smile that makes goose bumps roll up my arms. “I can’t tell all of fate’s secrets. Otherwise, I risk altering your true path.”

I stare down at my forearms and hands, my skin still prickling with visible uncertainty. All this effort, all this time spent here listening to her bullshit, and I’m supposed to figure it out on my own? Just wait for opportunity to come a-knockin’ on my evil ogre door?

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