“I have suspicions but no proof. He’s smarter this time.”
“You need to speak to him.”
Air whooshes out of my mouth. “I know.” Like I know I’ve been delaying the inevitable conversation. But I won’t go through this again. I can’t. I won’t be played like a fool or treated like less than I deserve.
“Ask me what you really want to know.” She pins me with that all-seeing look of hers.
Her intensity brings his image to the forefront of my mind, and my heart picks up speed behind my rib cage. My chest visibly heaves, and my palms grow sweaty. “You see him?” I whisper, afraid to say it out loud. I can’t even force myself to think about it, let alone articulate the thought.
“I do. I saw him the first time we met.”
I suck in a shocked gasp at her admission. Vander had only moved to the area with his parents a few months before our first session, and I resolutely refused to think about him as anything but my eldest son’s new best friend. He was fifteen then. Fifteen. And…I force those thoughts from my mind. It was around the time Curtis had his affair and my mind was a mess. That’s the only way I can explain my weird reaction to someone who was only a kid at the time. I haven’t thought of him like that in the intervening period. Not until more recently when the connection seems to be growing stronger.
And Vander is no longer a kid.
He’s eighteen. Six foot three inches of pure masculinity wrapped in the most tempting package. His quiet confidence, sharp wit, brooding manner, and keen intelligence is as appealing as his appearance and—
I stop that train of thought. No good will come from it. He’s West’s best friend. He’s eighteen and a senior in high school. I should not be having wicked thoughts about him. It’s only because my marriage is falling apart and he pays me more attention than my husband does.
It’s just a stupid infatuation.
Nothing will come of it.
Because I won’t let it.
“Beating yourself up over it won’t make any difference,” Dee says, leaning back a little in her chair. “In this life, we don’t always get to choose.”
“What does that mean?”
“I think you know what it means.”
“It’s wrong,” I whisper, and my cheeks flush with the recognition she sees the immoral thoughts I’ve been having.
“Why?” She sits back fully in her chair, and her eyes soften as they latch on mine.
I clear my throat, deciding to own up to my feelings. It’s not like Dee is going to tell anyone. “Take your pick. I’m too old. He’s too young. I’m married. His home life is a nightmare. He’s West’s best friend.” I tweak my lips with my fingers as I stare out the window into the dark night. “I’m delusional and imagining things that aren’t there.”
“Like what?”
I turn my head, refocusing on Dee. “Like the way he looks at me,” I whisper.
“How does he look at you?”
“Like he has a hotline to my soul and my innermost thoughts and feelings. Like he sees me.”
“Perhaps he does.”
I shake my head. “He’s not supposed to.”
She arches a brow, leaning her elbows on the table. “Isn’t he?”
I frown, wondering what she is getting at. “It almost sounds like you want me to act on my feelings.”
“I don’t tell you what to do or steer you onto any path, Kendall. You know that. I can only tell you what I see.”
“And what is that?”
Her eyes probe mine intensely. “I’m not sure you’re ready to hear this yet, but I’m going to tell you anyway. I think you should keep an open mind.”
“I’m more open-minded than most, but even I’m struggling with this.”
“Maybe you need to stop fighting it and delve deeper to uncover the hidden truth.”
“What hidden truth?”
“Do you believe in soul mates?”
I nod without hesitation. “Absolutely. But I also believe most people won’t find theirs in a single lifetime.”
A triumphant smile coasts over her mouth. “I wholeheartedly agree. When you think about the billions of people on the planet, it seems like an insurmountable challenge, right?”
“We discussed this very topic at my philosophy class last month. Some of my classmates believe in soul mates. Some don’t. Some believe you can have more than one.”
“What do you believe?”
“I believe there is another person out there who shares half my soul, but the chances of ever meeting him is beyond slim, and I have made my peace with that. I thought I’d found someone I connected with. Someone I could build a life with, and be happy, but I don’t believe in that anymore.” I’m getting dangerously close to voicing the truth hidden in the deepest part of my heart.
“What if I said you have already met him?” she says, and I almost fall off my chair. “Already loved him, in successive lifetimes, because it’s a connection so profound, a love so complete, it cannot die.”
“What?” I blurt, staring wide-eyed at her. Surely, she doesn’t mean…
“In every lifetime, you find one another because the bond is so strong nothing can keep you apart. Not oceans or mountains or timing or other people.” Her eyes drill into mine. “Not age.”
My mouth hangs open, and I’m sure the shock I’m feeling is written all over my face.
“Nothing else matters but the connection you share.” Reaching across the table, she takes my hands in hers. “Search your heart, Kendall. The truth you seek is there. In every lifetime, you battle obstacles and fight through considerable pain and turmoil to find one another again. But find him you have.”
“This isn’t real.” I’m drowning in uncertainty and a whole host of emotions I have no way of dealing with. “You can’t mean what I think you mean.”
“Vander is the other half of your soul, Kendall. It’s up to you what you do with that knowledge.”
2
VANDER
“Where’s Hazel gone?” I ask when my buddy West drops down on the couch alongside me. “God’s Plan” by Drake pumps out of portable speakers, bouncing off the stone walls of the carriage house that is more my home than the lavish mansion at the front of my parent’s property.
“I dropped her off at home. She has a curfew.” Snatching the joint from my fingers, he brings it to his lips. I’m not surprised he’s returned without his girlfriend or that he’s in the mood to party. He’s still reeling over what he learned last weekend. Truth is, I’m pissed too. Though I have a less legitimate right to be.
Behind us, a small crowd of our friends is talking, dancing, and drinking. Friday night sessions are a regular occurrence because I’m the only one of my friends with a private space where we can party without parental interference. My mom is most likely in a drug-and-drink-fueled haze of her own making, passed out in the master suite at the house. Dad is traveling this weekend, which means he’s wining and dining clients and screwing whatever sidepiece is his latest fuck buddy. They rotate as fast as the line at Chick-fil-A, and there seems to be a never-ending supply of gold-diggers and whores willing to take a ride on his dick. He fucking disgusts me, but I hate him for much more than his cheating.