Cupid’s Match
: Part 3 – Chapter 45

A few hours later I sit on the edge of Cupid’s four-poster bed. The moon shining through the window paints him with ghostly light. He is fast asleep, and finally peaceful. I replace myself watching his chest move up and down under the silky sheets.

Not long ago Crystal headed over to the Matchmaking Service with the replica of the Finis. She’d had it made years ago just in case she ever had to switch the two. Her parting words were, “The match must never be made.”

I plan to join Charlie in the spare room shortly, but I want to say good-bye first. As I’m watching, Cupid opens his eyes slowly, then smiles.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he says. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“Are you feeling better now?”

“Mm-hmm,” he says sleepily. “Much better now.”

I smile, then stand and start to walk toward the door.

“Lila.”

I look back.

“Stay with me. Just for the night. Just once.”

My breath catches in my throat. I know I shouldn’t, yet the vulnerability in his voice stops me still in my tracks.

“We won’t do anything,” he says softly. “Just lie here. Lie here with me.”

“The match can never be made,” I whisper.

I turn to look at him. He props himself up on the pillow, his eyes blazing into mine. “I know.”

He’s going in the morning, I remind myself, then I’ll never see him again.

Tentatively, I approach the bed and sit down beside him. I can feel his warmth. Smell his scent. Every part of me longs to touch him, to stroke his cheek, to brush my lips against his. But I can’t—not now, not ever.

I lie down beside him, my head sinking into the soft pillow.

My breathing hitches at the intensity of his gaze, at the way his eyes, filled with want, flick down to my lips. I don’t think anyone has ever looked at me that way before.

Heat spreads unbidden through my body. I try to stop it. I swallow hard, pushing it down before it consumes me.

“You shouldn’t look at me that way,” I say.

“I know.” A smile spreads across his face but his eyes remain fixed on mine. Then he sighs and turns onto his back, rubbing his face with both his hands. “I know.”

I roll onto my back, too, staring up at the dark oak posts of his bed, and the shadows they cast on the ceiling above. His arm brushes against mine as he lays it between us.

“I should go,” I say—even though I know I won’t.

“Don’t. I’ll be good. I promise.”

I breathe in deeply, tasting the faded scent of his cologne on my tongue. The window opposite us is slightly open and a cool, moonlit breeze ripples the thin white curtains. I watch them for a moment as they reveal glimpses of the infinite stars outside.

“When you leave town . . . where will you go?” I ask.

He gives me a half smile. It doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I’ll probably just hit the road again. See where it takes me. I’ve traveled a lot since I was banished. I could never replace a place to settle.” He grins. “Plus, I knew Cal and the Matchmaking Service always had eyes on me—so I liked to make things difficult.”

“Yeah. I noticed that . . .” I say. “Where have you been?”

“Where haven’t I been? I’ve visited every continent. More than once.”

“Even Antarctica?”

“Even Antarctica.”

“What’s it like?”

“Chilly.”

I laugh and turn to face him. “I never would have guessed.”

He rolls onto his side too. “It’s beautiful,” he says.

The tension starts to build again between us and I avert my gaze down to his chest.

“I always wanted to travel,” I say, bringing the conversation back on track. “I told myself I’d go somewhere last summer. And then I told myself I’d go somewhere this summer. Only I never actually did.” I shrug. “Maybe after graduation. Just for a few months. But . . . I don’t know . . .”

He frowns. “Why don’t you know?”

“I don’t know if I can leave my dad. Plus, every time I think about planning it, it makes me think of Mom.”

He looks at me, suddenly serious. “Why?”

I meet his eyes, something heavy inside me. I don’t like talking about Mom, yet something about the close comfort of his body and the concerned furrow of his brow makes me want to, for once.

“She had this wild, adventurous heart deep down, and she always used to talk about seeing the world. But she never did it. And then, between the hospital visits, and the chemo, and . . .” I swallow, something thickening in my throat. “She never got the chance. When she was ill, just before the end, we used to . . .”

I sigh and roll onto my back. I’ve never told anyone this before.

“What?” he says softly.

“It sounds stupid. We used to play pretend,” I say. “I’d lie in bed next to her and we’d talk about all the places we were going to go, the things we were going to do, the sites we’d see, and the food we’d eat.”

He moves his hand, his little finger brushing against mine. “That doesn’t sound stupid at all.”

“We never had much money,” I say. “But my mom left a little for me. I was going to use it to go to some of the places we talked about, only every time I think about it . . . I always worry I’ll get it wrong. I’ll go to the wrong place. It won’t be like we talked about. I won’t live up to her expectation of it.”

Somehow, saying it makes some of the weight in my chest lessen. He moves his hand completely over mine, enveloping my fingers in his, and squeezes.

“You have so much time, Lila,” he says. “If you do something, and you get it wrong, then you try again. Nothing is permanent.” He glances at me. “When I’m about to do something I always think—what’s the worst that can happen?”

I turn back onto my side to face him. “Is that what you thought when you came to Forever Falls?”

“Yeah.” He raises his eyebrows. “What’s the worst that can happen? I resurrect an ancient goddess who’ll want to destroy the world. No biggie.”

The corner of my lip twitches. “Yeah. No biggie.”

“I am sorry, you know. I know I can be reckless. I guess it’s easy to be when you don’t have anyone, anything, to care about . . . but still, I can’t quite replace it in me to regret it,” he says. “I know my brother thinks I shouldn’t have come here. I know a lot of people think that. But regardless, I’m glad I met you.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

“I think you have a wild and reckless heart, Lila,” he says, finally. “Like your mom.”

“I miss her,” I say, something tightening in my throat.

“I know.”

He squeezes my hand again, and his fingers are warm and safe around mine. We fall silent for a while.

“So . . .” he says. “When all this blows over, where we going to go?”

“We can’t—”

“I know.”

I meet his gaze, his face close to mine. He gives me a reassuring smile. I take a deep breath.

“Okay. Well . . . I always wanted to go to Europe. Italy maybe.”

“Good choice. I’ll meet you in Rome. By the Colosseum. There’s a great pizza place nearby . . .”

We make our pretend plans well into the night; we’ll see the pyramids in Egypt, and ride tuk-tuks in Bangkok. We’ll wander around the Louvre in Paris, and see the northern lights in the Arctic Circle. We’ll eat, and party, and Cupid will show me the places he grew up in.

Finally, as my eyelids become heavy, silence descends. For a moment we look at each other and he is so close I can count each eyelash. Slowly, and unsurely, he reaches for my hand, enveloping it in his. My skin tingles where his touches mine.

“I wish things were different, Lila.” His voice is heavy in the darkness.

I swallow hard. “Me too.”

When I wake up, the room is still dark. I hear the patter of rain against the window. I turn to look beside me. The sheets are rumpled and Cupid is no longer there. I climb out of bed and pad barefoot out of the room. A shadow flickers across the hallway leading to the terrace. I creep to the glass door.

Cupid is pacing back and forth in the darkness. His gray T-shirt is wet with rain and clinging to his muscular frame. He has his head in his hands.

I step onto the terrace, feeling the chill against my bare arms. “Cupid?” I touch his shoulder. He flinches and jumps backward.

“Stay away from me!”

I feel a flash of hurt. “Cupid? What’s wrong?”

His face is panicked and wet. “I should never have come here. Oh God, oh God.” He puts his head back into his hands.

I pull his arms back from his face to look at him. “Cupid, what is it?” I ask just as the ground beneath my feet trembles. An earthquake?

“Stay away from me!” he shouts again.

The trembling increases and I stumble against him. He looks at me and his eyes are wild, angry. He grabs my arms, his fingers digging into my skin. His face is inches from mine.

“You seemed so sure. You said you wouldn’t . . .” he murmurs. Rain runs down his face, flattening his hair and dripping into his mouth. He lets go of me and takes a step backward. “I thought I could stop myself,” he says. “I thought I could stop myself from falling for you.”

The shaking increases and I hear a clattering below as garden furniture falls over beside the pool.

“It’s too late, it’s too late.”

“Cupid, what do you mean? What do you mean it’s too late?” But I think I already know. Dread begins to grow inside of me. The floor beneath us shakes some more as a rumbling sound fills the air.

“I couldn’t stop myself,” he says. “I couldn’t stop the feelings.”

Then he looks up at me, the panicked expression replaced by something else—a hunger.

“It’s too late,” he whispers. “The match is made.”

Suddenly he pulls me into him. He cups my face in his hand and leans forward. My heart pounds as I feel his breath on my face, then he brushes my lips with his—lightly at first, but then with growing ferocity.

My body sinks into his. Around us the ground is still churning but I can’t hear it over the pounding of my heart. I know I shouldn’t be kissing him but I can’t stop. I don’t care. I don’t care.

As he runs his fingers through my rain-drenched hair, I vaguely register that the earthquake has stopped. But I feel the tremble in his chest as he parts my lips with his tongue. My stomach is somersaulting.

Then the door to the terrace bursts open and we spring apart. Cal stands in the doorway, a look of fury on his face. In one hand he holds his cell phone.

“Crystal’s just called from the Matchmaking Service. I hope you’re pleased with yourselves.”

He looks at me coldly then slides his gaze over to Cupid. His voice is dripping with disdain.

“The match was made. Mom’s home.”