“That’s amazing,” Chloe says. Her eyes light up. There’s nothing Chloe loves more than romance. “Who is he? Where is he? What did she say?”

“Erma told you who your soul mate is?” Veronica asks.

I nod. Suddenly, I’m nervous. Maybe it’s the way Veronica’s looking at me. She spent years running from love and she wasn’t excited when Erma told her who her soul mate was.

I turn and look at Ferran. She has a tight smile on her face. Everyone knows Ferran loves her job more than anything in the world. She wouldn’t be happy to have Erma’s “help.”

“Who is it?” asks Veronica.

I clear my throat and shove down my sudden nervousness.

“Gavin Williams.”

There’s a short silence, then Chloe says, “Isn’t he…your first crush?”

More than crush. He’s the one I’ve loved my whole life.

“That’s him,” I say.

“You used to write J.D. plus G.W. on all your school book covers. For years,” Ferran says.

“Wow,” Chloe says.

Ferran nods. “Wow. For once, Erma actually predicted a match that somebody’s happy about.”

Veronica shakes her head. “Gavin Williams is a player. That guy deflowered half of New York State’s virgins while still in high school.”

We all look at Veronica. She shrugs, and we burst out laughing. Veronica’s husband was formerly The King of Players.

“He’s a good man,” I say with conviction. “I’m sure of it.”

I think back to the day we met.

I'd just turned eight. I was wearing a scratchy black dress and itchy black tights. My grandma had pulled my hair into a tight French braid that made my eyes water. My mom was in a white lace dress, and her hair was smooth around her face, more silky and straight than it’d ever been when she was alive. Her skin was the wrong color and her lips were bright pink. Her coffin was pink too. And it made me angry and itchy because my mom hated pink. Hated it. But grandma said Dead People didn’t care what color their coffin was. She told me to sit down, be quiet and shut up. My dad didn’t say anything at all. He hadn’t said anything for nearly a week.

When Grandma came, she saw that I hadn’t eaten, or had a bath, or put on clean clothes for days.

Not since Mom died.

I’d been eating from the jar of pickles in the fridge. It was the only food left. Grandma took me to the bakery, bought me a ham sandwich and a glass of milk, and then back at home she screamed Dad back to life. After Mom’s funeral and after Grandma left, Dad still didn’t talk, but he never left the fridge empty again.