But male tigers are different. They hunt and let the female and the cubs eat first. They’re caretakers, just like Leo. I mean, couldn’t he see how he took care of others? Sebastian, Teddy, and even me? Yet, he wouldn’t let love in.

He wouldn’t allow anyone to take care of him.

Or maybe he was letting love in. Maybe he did love Tiffani. I wanted to barf.

“You have no right to tell me to stay away from someone when you have your psychic,” I said.

He seemed to deflate. “You’re right, and I’ll drop Cuba, but I want you to listen to me,” he said. “A junkie killed my parents, and it fucking freaks me out that you might have used drugs. If you need help, I’ll get it for you. I know your parents have cut you off, but I’ll give you everything: a place to live, money, rehab, college. If anything ever happened to you—” he looked back down at the pan on the stove.

I sighed sadly, because he only meant those words as a friend. “I did have cocaine, and yes, I thought about using, but in the end, I didn’t.”

“But you’ve taken it before?”

I stiffened. “I’ve taken it before, but I didn’t want to,” I said. “End of story. New topic, please.” I looked down the hall, needing a distraction. “Where’s Sebastian. He’s taking a really long shower.”

“Sebastian?” he barked, his lips thinning. “What’s going on between you two? He’s falling for you, you know.”

“He’s my friend, Leo.”

He glared.

“Look,” I said, getting back to the original topic, “don’t worry about the list. I made it when I was angry. I’m not going to OD with drugs or end up in jail. The coke wasn’t even mine; it was Finn’s,” I said, biting my lip hard when I realized I’d said his name.

“Who the fuck is Finn?” he demanded, suddenly livid. “Your ex-boyfriend?”

I felt the blood leave my face.

“Buttercup?” he asked in a lowered voice.

“Don’t call me that. It’s a term of endearment, and you need to save those for Tiffani,” I said, pointing at him.

He rubbed his hands through his hair several times, a crazed look on his face. “Fuck. Nora, I’m sorry. I feel out of control here. Forgive me, okay? But this Finn guy . . . I will rip him apart for giving you drugs.”

I shrank from him, frightened by hearing Finn’s name on his lips. “Please, don’t ask me about him ever again.”

He nodded uncertainly and moved closer to me, like he wanted to hold me, but I stepped back. I still couldn’t handle him touching me; Tiffani was too fresh. He sighed and turned back to the stove to stir the sauce.

I bit my lip as I watched him, not wanting to be angry with him. I needed him, just like I needed Sebastian.

“Tell me a happy story, Leo.”

He gazed at me. “One day you’ll have your own stories.”

“Yes, I will,” I said firmly.

“Let’s finish cooking this killer meal and then eat it. How’s that for a happy story?”

I nodded. “I like it. What’s for dessert?”

“You’ll love it,” he said, his fingers brushing mine as we turned back to the stove.

As the minutes passed, we eased into a familiar camaraderie that reminded me of our night at the movies. I made a salad, and he put the French bread in the oven. He set the table, and I poured the tea. We talked about similar books we’d read and movies we wanted to see. I admitted my word compulsion, and he laughed and told me I was wacko. I informed him wacko was a relatively new word, an Americanism coined in the 1970s. He explained how he’d taken his parents’ life insurance and restored the old gym his dad had owned, turning it into a lucrative business by buying and selling several gyms, like people flip houses. I told him how high my IQ was, and he called me a geek. I grinned and said I preferred the term intellectual badass. He laughed uproariously.

By the time Sebastian and Mila came in the kitchen, dinner was on the table and smelled wonderful. As we ate, the sun was setting and a golden glow came in through the window and lit the table. Leo had turned on some R.E.M., and a song about losing your religion played. I looked at each of them. Sebastian’s cheeks were bulging because he’d tried to stuff as much bread into his mouth as he could. Leo thumped him in the arm, telling him to mind his table manners around their company. Mila had spaghetti on her fork, but it plopped in her lap when she burst out laughing at their banter. I closed my eyes, savoring, because this . . . this was one of those happy moments I could string on my necklace.

Leo jumped up. “Time for dessert,” he said, grinning, as if he knew something I didn’t.

“What’s going on?” I asked the other two as he went into the pantry.

Sebastian laughed and Mila grinned.

Leo came back holding a giant misshapen pink cake with candles on it, and my heart swelled because I could tell by looking it was homemade, and no one, not even Aunt Portia, had ever baked me a cake.

“Is that what I think it is?” I whispered in amazement.

“Surprise. I know it’s a little late in the game, but seeing as you didn’t tell anyone until the day of . . .” Leo said, setting the cake down on the table. I watched him light the candles.

“Happy Birthday,” he said, leaning over and surprising me by tucking my hair behind my ear. “Now, make a wish and blow them out, so we can eat this monstrosity.”

“Beautiful monstrosity,” I murmured, staring at the fluffy icing, imagining Leo standing in the kitchen making something special just for me. I grew emotional, sitting there, thinking of him trying his best to be my friend. I blew out the candles and made my wish. It might never come true, but my heart still yearned for Leo.

Some would say love at first sight is ridiculous, and perhaps love never happens for those people at all. I kept thinking about what Sebastian had said: that when it was real then you know it. I looked at Leo, sitting there around his friends and family and knew the truth. I loved him. Forever. Was it surprising that as I was searching for myself, I’d also found love? Yeah. Fate, destiny, karma, kismet, God, crazy coincidences, or whatever you wanted to call it, had written in the stars that I would find my soulmate.

Only he didn’t feel the same. It wasn’t fair, I wanted to yell out. Why grant me this once-in-a-lifetime chance and then leave me unrequited? Why was he my Romeo, but I wasn’t his Juliet?