When my heart doesn’t cease beating from her surprise appearance, I find my voice. “Hey. You’re here. I didn’t get your name last time.”

Her head cocks to one side. “Last time?”

Oh, right. I guess part of me hoped she would remember, somehow.

I shake my head. “Uh, never mind. Are you giving readings right now? I know it’s late but I thought maybe we could talk?”

She slips around the register and does the same thing as before, running a finger down the appointment book.

She looks up. “We’re booked.”

I glance around. “It’s empty.”

“I can’t help you.”

“Why not?” I motion at the door. “You’re open.”

“Now is not a good time. Come back tomorrow.”

Frustration squeezes me in its grip and shakes. “What do you mean? I need help. I need help now. I can’t come back tomorrow.”

But my exasperation doesn’t affect her calm. “What you need is to help yourself. You don’t need a reading. You know what you need to do. You’re just not ready to do it.”

Any argument I might voice dies on my lips.

She’s right. I do know. Giving my pitch over and over, day after day, was brutal torture. But I did it. I got through it, more than once.

But this is Alex. I’ve been low-key crushing on him forever. I don’t know how to get through this.

Which makes her even more right about that last bit. I don’t want to do this. Because I’m scared.

But I’m sick of anxiety and fear. I’m sick to death of myself. Anger boils in my blood, filling every vein and crevice of my body. I’m livid. It needs to change. I need to change.

“What is it you want?” she asks.

I slump against the counter across from her. “For time to move forward.”

“No, that’s not what you want, that’s what you think you want. What do you want?”

“I want to . . . I don’t know, I want to know what to do? I want to make things right?”

She shakes her head. “Is that a question or an answer? Why do you want things to be right? What things? And what will making it ‘right’ do for you?” She lifts her fingers in air quotes.

“I just want,” I shrug, “I want to be happy.”

She nods and smiles, as if finally satisfied with my answer. “Time doesn’t have anything to do with happiness. Time is outside. Happiness is inside. When you know what you want, the universe will conspire to bring it to you. You are the one pushing it away. You have to let it come. Do you see?”

“If I say no, will you explain it more?”

She smiles. “No.”

Chapter Eight