“You were so closed off to this,” I say, trying my best to explain. “I needed you to be open to even the possibility of attractionor…” I swallow and notice my throat is as dry as the desert outside. “Or something more. I needed you to be willing to let someone in.”
“That’s a bullshit excuse, and you know it,” she says. I’ve gotten close enough now to see there are tears in her eyes, and my chest burns with that discovery, knowing it’s because of me.
“You know it’s not, Love,” I say, gently. “You…you’re so dead set on making yourself unlovable that—”
Felicity rears back, as if slapped. “Unlovable?” A scoff, and then she does look me in the eyes, her own blazing behind her glasses.
“You’re just like every other guy, Cupid. Chasing some high to satisfy your ego, using women to do it. I’m a successful, smart, attractive single woman, and that’s justtoo unlovablefor you, is it?”
“I didn’t mean—”
“No!” Felicity shouts. “Stop. Just stop.”
She scrubs her face with her hands, leaving her glasses slightly crooked. I want to lean in and fix them. I want to show her I’m not terrible, not like she thinks. That I can take care of her. I’ve been careless, but I can fix it—if she’s willing to give me a second chance.
But I don’t get to say any of this to her, because in a voice almost too quiet to hear, she says, “Our deal is over, Cupid. I won on account of you being a lying bastard. Don’t ever contact me again.”
With that, she turns on her heel and storms away, calling over her shoulder, “And get a haircut. You look ridiculous.”
Behind me, I hear one of the Fates let out a low whistle. “You really messed up big this time, Cupid.”
I let my head fall into the cradle of my hands. “Thanks, Clo,” I say. “That’s very helpful.”
I’m vaguely aware of whispers coming from the machine. It almost sounds like the sisters are arguing with each other, but I can’t bring myself to care.
I can’t get the look of hurt on Felicity’s face out of my mind. I can’t stop replaying what I said, and wondering how much of it she heard, or thinking about how it made her feel. So when the sound of a throat clearing jerks me out of my thoughts, I’m surprised to find the sisters still on the slot machine screen, watching me.
Lala looks at me with something like pity in her eyes. “This might not be the best time for this, but…we’ve got something we need to tell you.”
I give them my full attention—or at least what I can offer, with half of my head and heart focused on Felicity. And with every word, my mouth drops open a little wider as anger builds, flooding me from the ends of my hair to the tips of my toes.
Some things—some people—simply never change.
21
Felicity
What’s that saying? Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.
That’s the second time I’ve let love make a fool of me. Never again.
Hot tears roll down my face as I book it back to the suite. Forget the conference. Forget the fun day Cupid was supposedly planning for us. I’m packing my stuff up and getting out of here—on aplane, thank you very much—and washing my hands of this whole situation.
I accomplished what I set out to do anyway. I say a tiny, silent prayer of thanks that Cupid’s plan didn’t derail this entire trip. I still nailed my presentation, and I made valuable contacts for the future of my app. Without Cupid on the sidelines, I probably would have gotten even more networking done, met more potential investors. But I’ll just consider that a lesson learned.
Don’t let men distract you from your true purpose. No matter how handsome or funny they are, or how sweet and caring they seem, or how comfortable they make you feel.
They will always disappoint you in the end.
Besides, now that I’ve won our bet, I can keep working on my anti-dating app in peace—and with renewed vigor. This was just the perfect reminder of what’s at stake, of what I’m fighting for.
And all it cost me was one broken heart.
I let my anger guide me to the hotel room and direct my body to shove clothing and toiletries into my luggage. The same anger helps me purchase a last-minute plane ticket—the first possible flight out of here—and order a taxi to the airport. It pushes me through the check-in line, security, and to the gate, where I sit down and expect to stew in my anger until it’s time to board. But at the gate, when I’m all alone with no immediate task to handle, nothing to distract me, my brain is quick to move past the anger and straight to sadness.
It’s ridiculous, I tell myself, to besadabout a guy I barely knew. Who was, when you really think about it, just another person I had a business arrangement with, however strange that arrangement was. Wholied to meand made me believe I’d been struck with one of love’s arrows, encouraging these…these delusions running through my head.
I think about the placebo effect, which we learned about in school years ago. Maybe that’s what happened to me. I thought I was falling in love because of the arrow, so I fell in love.
