It’s not Will.

My cheeks heat and embarrassment fills me. “Gavin,” I squeak. “Hi.”

I smile and swallow the lump in my throat.

His eyes light with humor. He’s in pajama pants and a t-shirt, and his hair is sticking up.

“I smelled bacon and coffee,” he says. “I didn’t know you were here, I thought you were Will.”

I nod my head quickly, “Mhm.”

I look down and catalog my appearance. When I got up, I threw on my white dress from yesterday. I’m barefoot, but I splashed water on my face and pulled my hair into a ponytail. Thank goodness I decided to get dressed in a proper outfit. I’d forgotten Gavin was here.

He quirks his eyebrows at me, sort of like Will but not, and smiles. It does nothing for me. Nothing at all. I smile with happiness. I love Will. I love him. I want nothing more than to go back upstairs and feed him breakfast and make love.

I beam at Gavin. This is wonderful. I don’t love him, not at all, not one bit.

He looks at me, and a slightly stunned expression crosses his face. I pull back on the full magnitude smile.

“I’m so glad you came down,” I say. Because it proved one hundred percent, without a doubt that he’s not for me. “Have some bacon.”

I shift the plate toward him. He can have all the bacon he likes if it means he’ll go away and I can go upstairs to Will.

I’m going to wake Will up and tell him I love him. Happiness fills me until I feel like I’m going to burst.

“Sooo…I know why you’re here,” Gavin says.

He steps to the counter and leans against it. I look toward the entryway, eager to get upstairs.

“Yeah?” I ask, distracted by the memory of Will half-covered by the bed sheets.

“Because you’re my soul mate.”

His words knock me upside the head. I shake my head and try to rearrange what he just said, but it still sounds the same.

“What?”

His lip curls in a satisfied smile. “You’re my soul mate.”

“Nope.” I hold up my hands and take a step back. “No, I’m not. Not your soul mate.”

His eyes take on a look that I don’t like. Sort of like the expression of someone about to jump out of a plane when they really don’t want to but are determined to anyway.

“I’m really not,” I say.

He nods. “You are. A little old lady from town visited me yesterday. She explained the whole thing. She showed me a book, told me that we’re meant to be, that it’s fate.”

I can’t get a breath. Miss Erma came here? Told Gavin that he and I are…“No.”

He takes a step toward me. My heart thuds.