She didn’t look up from her work. “You chose. The magic settled. Yes, it’s supposed to happen.”
“Liam’s going to propose to Cassie.”
“I know.”
“You KNOW? How do you know? Can you see it too?”
“I can see that he’s been looking at rings online for three weeks and accidentally left the browser history open on Cassie’s laptop.” She finally looked up, mouth twitching. “Not everything requires magic, dear.”
I laughed—a real laugh, surprised out of me. “Fair enough.”
“But yes.” She set down her copper wire and gave me her full attention. “Your great-aunt’s gift was clarity. She could look at two people and see whether they were meant for each other. Not just attracted—meant. The deep compatibility thatmakes marriages last decades instead of fizzling out after the infatuation fades.”
“And I have that now?”
“You’re learning it. The chaos was the magic responding to your indecision—generating every possibility because you wouldn’t narrow them down. Now that you’ve chosen, it can focus. Direct itself toward what it’s actually designed to do.”
“Help people find love.”
“Helpyousee love. Clearly. Without the noise.” She picked up her wire again. “It’s not a parlor trick, Diane. It’s not fortune-telling or matchmaking for entertainment. It’s a gift—and like all gifts, it comes with responsibility.”
“What kind of responsibility?”
“To be honest. To be careful. To remember that what you see is potential, not guarantee. Even the strongest connections can be broken by poor choices.” She twisted the wire into a shape I didn’t recognize. “Your great-aunt helped hundreds of couples find each other. But she also told some people the truth they didn’t want to hear—that the person they’d chosen wasn’t right. That they were settling. That they needed to let go.”
I thought about that. About what it would mean to look at someone andknowtheir relationship was doomed. To see the cracks they were papering over.
“That sounds terrible.”
“It can be. It can also be a kindness.” She met my eyes. “But we’ll work on that later. For now—go see your man. You’ve earned some happiness.”
Marcus openedthe door like he’d been waiting.
“You’re early,” he said, but he was smiling—that transformative smile I was starting to think of as mine.
“I can come back later.”
“Don’t you dare.” He stepped aside, and I walked into the warmth of his apartment, into the space that had stopped feeling like a museum and started feeling like possibility.
He’d cooked. Actually cooked—not just reheated something or assembled a cheese plate, but made dinner. The apartment smelled like garlic and herbs and something that might have been wine reduced into a sauce.
“You didn’t have to do this.”
“I wanted to.” He handed me a glass of wine, and our fingers brushed. “I’ve been thinking about the last few weeks. About how different everything feels.”
“Good different?”
“Terrifying different.” He clinked his glass against mine. “I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. For you to realize you’ve made a mistake.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“I know. That’s the terrifying part.” He set down his wine glass. Stepped closer. “I’ve gotten used to being alone. I know how to do alone. This—” he gestured between us, “—I don’t know how to do this anymore.”
“Neither do I.” I set down my glass too. “But I’d rather figure it out with you than be good at being alone.”
Something shifted in his expression. The careful guard he still sometimes wore—the one that protected the grief underneath—cracked. Just a little.
“I have something for you,” he said.
