“Another author you’ve discovered?”
Nobody knew I was a writer. The pen name I published under had nothing to do with the name I took when I left Denver and moved to Colorado Springs. Abigail Ross was just a writer. She wasn’t Olivia Rose, beaten and bruised, and she certainly wasn’t Olivia Lemont, daughter of Mary and Trenton Lemont, oil tycoons.
Abigail Ross was stronger, fearless. She wrote hard, deep truths within the lines of her psychological thrillers. She was unbreakable.
“So, this is the gist,” I began, meeting his eyes for half a second before turning back to the phone. “All souls were created when Earth was, right? Out of collapsing stars, exploding gas clouds,unfolding galaxies, and so a soul is born,but,” I went on, finding his eyes again, “after these souls are created they are split in two on their way to earth. So her theory, or the theory, is that those souls are cursed to wander the world always feeling as if they’re missing something. Twin flames, better than soulmates in her eyes. Something far deeper, far more important. Does that make sense?”
He pondered my words as he slid my new drink over. “Interesting. What’s the author’s name?”
Not that it really mattered because I didn’t think he had ever read anything of hers. Mine. “Abigail Ross. She writes fiction, psychological thrillers, crime stuff, but with a deep kind of rom-con twist,” I explained.
His brows furrowed. “Rom-con? With an ‘N’.”
I felt my cheeks warm. “Yeah, like romantic but edgy. Kind of against their will falling for each other.”
His face twisted. “How does that work?”
I stared at him for a long time, wondering if he was serious. When I realized that he was, I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter,” I waved off. No way was I going to sit here and try to explain to him this whole genre. Besides, nobody called it rom-con, that was just me, and it was slightly embarrassing.
He chuckled, a slight smirk touching his lips. “Okay, explain to me the difference between soulmates and twin flames and I’ll see what I can do.”
I drank half of my cup and set it down. “Top it off?”
He did as I asked and slid the bottle back under the counter.
“Okay,” I began, locking my phone, the buzz of my drink finally hitting me. “Everyone misunderstands soulmates.Soulmates, in my opinion, are more like your friends, family, mentors. People have a connection to them, but it’s not ‘you’re the one I’ll marry’, it’s more like… ‘I can tell you anything, but I’ll never fall for you’.
“Twin flames are very much that whole cliché of ‘I saw them and I just…Iknew’. Love at first sight. It’s when you see a person, something inside of you just smiles. The whole ‘oh, there you are, I’ve been looking for you’ ideal.”
He nodded, thinking over this as I took another sip. “Okay, but the chances of finding that person?”
I shrugged. “Almost nothing. There’s 8.1 billion people in the world, the chances that your twin flame would be in the same state as you, let alone the same city?” I scoffed. “No, this is her theory, not mine.”
I sort of believed in it, I suppose, but Abigail Ross? She believed in love and dreams and all of that gushy stuff. She had to in order to add the ‘love’ aspect to the stories we wrote.Iwrote. I didn’t have multiple personality disorder, probably, I just had different frames of mind depending on the people I was with.
Different versions of myself to keep me from doing something stupid or saying something stupid. A survival technique, I suppose. One I had developed long before I ever should have had to.
“I don’t know, I guess it sounds like a romantic idea,” Jake started.
“It’s bullshit.”
We both looked over at the low, silky voice of the new guy who had straightened up just enough to become part of the conversation, his eyes still locked on his drink.
He clearly didn’t want any part of this, so why he had inserted himself into the middle of it, I wasn’t sure.
Jake and I exchanged a glance before he turned back to the man. “Why?”
Better question: why did Jake feel the need to encourage this?
“Because believing that there is one single person out there who is meant for you is a theory created by people who don’twant to believe that they are completely and utterly alone in this world. Which they are. Everyone is. Forever,” he replied without a hitch, as if he had recited it in the mirror and had perfected his flawless delivery.
I grimaced, another little stone growing in the pit of my stomach. This time out of realization rather than guilt. That was an incredibly jaded way to look at it…but maybe he was right? Steven was almost always right about that stuff, and—
But this wasn’t Steven. It was some ass who inserted himself into a conversation he didn’t even want to be a part of. “Why is wanting to find something worthwhile in this screwed up world so terrible?” I challenged, straightening my spine. “It’s the only way some people survive.”
“It’s the only way to fill your head up with delusions.”
What crawled up his ass and died? “And as unhealthy as it sounds, sometimes what some consider delusions, others consider the only thing keeping them alive.”
