The Break-Up Psychic by Emily Hemmer

Author:Emily Hemmer [Hemmer, Emily]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

I think I may’ve found a new career calling as a ninja. Over the past forty-eight hours, I’ve perfected the art of avoiding all contact with Sam James, and this is no small accomplishment. After my disastrous run-in with Tim at the apartment, I’ve been avoiding Sam and his dimple like the plague. Luanne’s been aiding and abetting my disappearing act by telling him I’ve come down with a nasty cold. He’s called the apartment twice to see how I’m doing and both times I have to wordlessly plead with Luanne to keep the lie going. Now I owe her two favors, which is a dangerous thing.

The comforting aroma of chicken-noodle soup wafts over me. I toy with the card that accompanied Sam’s ‘Get Well Soon’ gift. I couldn’t believe it this morning when I peered past Luanne and saw Jason’s large frame filling our doorway, a small Tupperware bowl clutched in his behemoth hands. He told Luanne he was commissioned by Sam to bring me the soup, but I have the feeling Jason may’ve volunteered. He’s been after Luanne for another date, but so far she hasn’t caved. Perhaps he thinks playing the part of devoted friend will soften her up.

I open the card and read the message again:

Research leads me to believe that chicken soup cures all illness. Hope you feel better soon as I’m looking forward to conducting more experiments with you in the near future. - Sam.

I know I should be thrilled a man would go to so much trouble for me but honestly, it just makes me feel worse. His thoughtfulness is really hindering my ability to get over what happened with Tim. Luanne, for her part, is having no problem letting me live with the guilt. For the first time in her life she’s refusing to give me her opinion on what I should do about Sam or Tim or my messy love life in general.

“Girl, you know I’d walk through fire for you, but I can’t help you with this one.”

“I just don’t know how to fix this, Lu,” I say, placing the card back on the coffee table.

“Honey, there’s no fixing this mess. You’d be better off with a jackhammer and a truck of cement.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning you need to repave this rocky road you’ve been traveling down and start fresh. You’re in love with the idea of love, but the reality of giving yourself over to someone whole-heartedly scares the beejesus out of you,” she says, leaving me alone on the sofa.

She’s right, of course. Every time I’ve gotten remotely close to finding real love, those damn alarm bells start ringing and I go and muck things up.

Luanne reemerges from the bedroom wearing a tight yellow halter-top and her signature low-rise jeans. I crane my neck to read the time on the microwave in the kitchen before flopping back down on the sofa, eyeing Sam’s card as it lies accusingly on the table.

“Are you planning on lying around in self-pity all day,

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