The Fate Date (Glengarry Curse #1)

17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Sabrina

S abrina concluded that Gavin Glengarry was many things: buttoned-up businessman, purveyor of the bone-shaking scowl, a fantastic kisser, and shockingly sexy in a towel.

But he was a total coward when it came to his mother.

“I…uh…want to check the furnace real quick. I’ll be up in a few minutes.”

“You are not leaving me to handle your mother on my own, Gavin Glengarry,” Sabrina hissed, but it was too late. Gavin disappeared down the steps to the basement as Gladys rounded the corner from the living room.

Before Sabrina could say anything, she was swept up into another Gladys hug. “Come in.” Gladys dragged her into the kitchen. Instead of a bright light shining in her eye, Sabrina was subjected to the scent of fresh-baked muffins, which was a much more effective inquisition technique. “You have to tell me everything. All I was able to pry out of Gilbert was that you and Gavin were ‘seeing each other’. Do you want a cup of tea? We have leftover pie?”

“That would be lovely.” Sabrina eyed the small paper bags littering the kitchen table. “What are you working on?”

“Seed sorting, but—”

“I can help.” Well, she could label the bags with adorable calligraphy. She took a seat and rummaged through her purse for a pen. “How was Thanksgiving?” She hoped the more she peppered Gladys with questions, the greater the likelihood of her distraction.

Gladys bumbled around the kitchen, preparing Sabrina not only leftover pie but, nefariously, a whole plate of fixings: turkey, ham, stuffing with cranberries, gravy. “It was so good to have the boys home, well except Gareth, of course. His schedule is so variable as a firefighter. I’m so disappointed Gavin didn’t invite you to join us,” she tutted, steering the topic back to the danger zone.

“Marie and I ran tarot readings all weekend to bring more customers into the shop,” Sabrina lobbed back at Gladys, who set her plate down and took a seat across from her. “Business has been going really well lately.”

“That’s excellent news, dear. I’m so happy for you.”

“Thanks.” Sabrina took a large bite of turkey.

“And, you and Gavin, how is that going?”

Guilt, and a rogue cranberry, choked the words in her throat.

Gladys leaned on her elbows, head tilted in her hands. “I know it’s nosy of me to pry, but the boys don’t tell me anything about their love lives.”

Sabrina’s smile quivered in the corners. “The night Gavin drove me home we really hit it off. We’ve been inseparable ever since.”

“I knew it. I told him about you earlier that night, and he was so adamant that you were some sort of charlatan.”

“Mother knows best.” The apple pie was a mealy mush in her mouth —even her taste buds rebelled at her blatant deception. She set her fork down.

Gladys’s plump, wrinkled fingers took the opportunity to reach for Sabrina’s. “So where did you go on your first date?”

God, Gladys was really twisting that dagger of anguish inside her. Sabrina wanted to give in to her motherly comfort. She wished she could curl up with a cup of tea and talk about boys and astrology and movies like she had done with her own mom.

“Uhm…it was…well…” Gladys’s wide eyes were pleading for a fairytale she couldn’t produce. She wrenched out of her grasp. “It’s just all so new.” Her panic gave the words a harsher edge than she intended.

The lines on Gladys’s face, normally pulled taut in a smile, sagged limply.

“I wouldn’t want to jinx anything,” Sabrina said, hoping to soften her reticence. It was kinder to manage Gladys’s expectations from the get-go. She couldn’t bear Gladys harbouring any ill will if she felt her heart had been manipulated by this scheme. It was bad enough Sabrina was making a tangle of her own.

“Why don’t we do astrology today?” Gladys suggested, some of the brightness returning to her eyes. Relieved, Sabrina spent an hour looking at the upcoming transits and where they were occurring in Gladys’s chart.

“We should look at Gavin’s chart too. He has that big promotion coming up,” Gladys insisted.

“Um, yeah.” Sabrina inputted Gavin’s birth information into her calculator, but it felt weird looking at it. Invasive. She took a cleansing breath, trying to clear her head as she always did before a reading.

That’s when she saw the moon.

She hadn’t seen it before. Or really seen it. She’d seen the onslaught of earth signs—that was still there. He did have the capacity to be a hypercritical ass. But there was also a softness that she overlooked because it didn’t fit her narrative of him, her own judgments clouding the sky.

His moon, his chart ruler, his sense of safety and security, was in the seventh house of love and long-term partnerships.

And his Venus was in Leo? In the second house. That gave her pause. She saw Gavin’s confidence shine here, his passion for creative tech solutions, but it was also a placement that was indicative of recklessness with money.

Gavin came storming into the kitchen.

“Mom, where did you move the lightbulbs? They’re not in the designated spot above the washer.”

Gladys gave a loud sigh and crossed to a cupboard in the kitchen. “I still rue the day I bought him his first label maker,” she said, desperate for an ally to stand up to Gavin’s maniacally organized ways.

“Enabler,” Sabrina hissed.

Gavin gave a half-smile at that, as he took the lightbulbs. “How is your reading going?”

She shifted her screen.

His eyes latched on to the action, a grin ghosted his face, and he traipsed over to the table. “Should we test how much I’ve learned over the past few weeks?”

He recognized the birthday and Sabrina looked away, hoping the blush didn’t betray the discomfort she felt over prying.

“Were you trying to spreadsheet me, Tink?” he said, pitching his voice low and breathy in her ear, and damnit if she wasn’t turned on right in front of his mother.

“I need to know how to manage you at the corporate retreat,” she said.

“Let me do a reading for you. The red squiggle in the house of Hoth indicates that I’m not someone who can be managed.”

Sabrina sucked in her cheeks to keep her face serious.

“The fork shape here, located in the eye of Sauron, symbolizes excelling in the field of business coaching.”

“That’s Neptune in Capricorn in the seventh house, meaning you’ll be a steadfast partner in long-term relationships, but there is likely an element of fate or idealism involved too.”

He gave a little pause before continuing his tirade. “I have an alien hanging out with a cyclops in the fancy M house. ”

“Mercury and Sun in Virgo.”

“It means I’m excessively intelligent and handsome.”

“Not even a little bit.”

“And the stickman in Slytherin—”

“Venus in Leo—”

“Means…” He leaned closer. His teeth caught his lower lip. She was transported back to that other kitchen table, in an equally inappropriate setting, where she’d felt ready to throw caution to the wind and straddle him.

Until she heard Gladys, still seated next to them, clear her throat.

Sabrina tried to appear nonchalant. “…It means you’re frivolous with money.”

She said it as a joke. It was one interpretation of the placement, but not definitive. Certainly not how she would describe Gavin Glengarry.

He looked stricken.

Before she could clarify, Gladys’s cell phone rang.

“Gilbert, did you make it back safe? Hold on, I’ll put you on speaker phone, Gavin and Sabrina are here.”

“Ohhh…” Gilbert at least had the good sense to sound sheepish. “Hey, Sabrina, how is my favourite astrologer?”

“Predicting the future.” She grabbed her tarot deck from the table. “Want me to draw a card for you?”

“Sure, what do the fates have in store?”

“Ace of Pentacles—green light on a project, new job?”

“Sabrina, your intuition is incomparable, that’s why I’m calling, I have a final callback for a huge play starring alongside Tessa Eden. Green light, baby. I’m telling you, it’s going to be my big break.”

Gavin stiffened beside her and crossed to the sink where there was a pile of dishes.

“Gavin, leave them…” Gladys said softly to him.

He continued nonetheless, glaring at the phone.

“Speaking of which, I have a favour to ask Ma…”

Gavin shook his head and slammed the stopper in the sink. He turned on the water as if to drown out the conversation.

“Turns out work was a bit miffed that I took the weekend off for Thanksgiving. I told them that my grandmother was sick…”

“Grandma Gloria died a year ago.”

“Yeah, turns out they remembered that and uhh, let’s just say my boss wasn’t too happy about it. I’m a bit short on rent this month and hoped you could spot me some cash until the casting is confirmed for this new show.”

Dishes banged loudly in the background and Gladys gave Gavin a look before taking Gilbert off speakerphone and leaving the room. “Sure, honey, how much do you need?”

Sink full of bubbles, Gavin turned off the tap and began to aggressively scrub the muffin trays stacked high on the side. Sabrina knew it was none of her business, that after next week, she may not see Gavin again. But she thought back to their coaching session the other day when he had trusted her enough to talk about his feelings. She didn’t think he had many people like that in his life. Even if she didn’t have a rapidly expanding crush on him, he’d helped her so much with her business, maybe this was something she could help him open up about? She came up beside him. “I’m guessing that’s not the first time he’s made a request like that?”

Gavin kept washing, water spraying up to splash his t-shirt, leaving little see-through dots that stuck to his abdomen.

“He’s just like our dad,” Gavin said.

“Sorry?”

“Risking his livelihood to chase a thrill.”

Sabrina didn’t move. The only words she’d heard about Gavin’s dad were always effusively positive. Sensing the cleaning was therapeutic for him, she stayed silent as he finished the dishes, let out the water, and dried his hands. He leaned against the counter next to her. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve lectured Gilbert a hundred times and it doesn’t make a difference. And my mom insists that she will spend her money as she wants.” The tic in his jaw said otherwise.

“I think it matters. I imagine in Gilbert’s line of work it must be tricky—trying to choose between chasing your dreams and making sure there’s a roof over your head. I can relate to that. But it must be frustrating for you to see him consistently put that burden on your mother.”

“Exactly. He should have saved more money with his consistent job to tide him over during these periods of uncertainty.” He threw the washcloth down on the counter. “How do you always understand?”

“Annoying, I know.”

He gave a little smile. “And always know the right thing to say, too.”

Sabrina leaned back against the counter beside him. “What if you sat down with Gilbert like you did with me? What if he doesn’t know how to budget his money?”

“It won’t help; he’s always been selfish like this.”

“Hmmm, like you’re grumpy and miserly.”

He huffed out a sigh.

“Come on, it’s worth a shot.” She tugged at his shirt. It was an unconscious gesture, but as soon as she fisted that warm brushed cotton, she didn’t want to let go. “Do I need to pull out your promise to defer to me on all things, always?”

“That is not what I committed to at all.” He took a step closer to her, trapping her between his body and the counter at her back. She wanted him closer still.

“I dunno, I’m gonna have to check the transcripts.”

Their eyes locked, and there it was again—that undeniable magnetic connection that became more potent as he drew nearer. Her lips started buzzing. She rose on her tiptoes. His head dipped .

And then he angled it sharply towards the door at the sound of Gladys’s footsteps.

Sabrina did what her lips begged her to do. She grabbed his face and kissed him.

Yesssss . Her lips hummed, and she sensed from the upturned corners that his felt the same. Though she started the kiss, Sabrina would state at the gates of hell that there was no hesitation on Gavin’s part. None whatsoever. In fact, their lips had a natural rhythm, like they’d never been apart. Much less feral than last time but equally as affecting. The inferno was tamed now, like a campfire—warm and comforting, with just the right amount of crackle.

“Oh!” cried a surprised Gladys from the archway, and Gavin repelled off Sabrina.

“Oh, don’t let me interrupt,” Gladys said, turning in circles.

“It’s fine, Mom.” Gavin crossed back over to the table and began to pack up Sabrina’s things. Still dazed, Sabrina didn’t mind, especially as he organized them a lot better than she would have. Her fingers pressed against her lips, like they still sought pressure after the sudden separation.

“I’m going to run our stuff out to the car.” He grabbed her bag and booked it out of there, again leaving her to manage his mother.

Gladys looked at her, all doe eyed. “Seeing the two of you together makes me so happy.”

Sabrina stepped backwards, trying to run from the unabashed excitement on Gladys’s face, but she was cornered by counters.

Gladys’s eyelashes fluttered. “He’s been so closed off for so long. That was one of the hardest parts of losing Gordon. He took little pieces of our boys with him when he passed. Gavin especially.” She waved her hand, as if to push away the statement.

“What do you mean?” She shouldn’t encourage Gladys, but the words trampled out anyway .

“As a child, Gavin and Gilbert used to pull the most hilarious pranks—”

“Gavin and Gilbert?”

She nodded. “The two of them were thick as thieves. Things changed between them when Gordon died.” Her brow furrowed, much like Gavin’s when he was trying to work out a puzzle. “But seeing him joke around with you today, the way he looks at you…” She sighed, exactly like Sabrina did in the third act of a rom-com. “You’ve made me so happy.” She pulled Sabrina into another sweeping hug. At least in this position Sabrina could hide the dismay that must be betrayed on her face. Gavin was right, lying to Gladys was one of the worst experiences of her life. Especially as she so badly wanted the words Gladys was saying to be true.

“Car’s packed. Mom, I changed the filter on the furnace, but I’ll call the technician to come out as soon as they can and check it out more thoroughly.”

Gladys rocked Sabrina back and forth, not acknowledging Gavin.

“Mom, we gotta go.”

“I’m not done hugging yet,” she said.

“Mom.”

“Can’t I keep her for a little bit?” she asked.

“Sorry, Mom, she’s mine.”

She’s mine. Sabrina nestled the memory of those words away for later—how his mouth moved, the possessive roughness in his voice.

“Right, right, of course. You have a very important business to run, and you,” she turned to Gavin, “have a promotion to get.” They made their way to the exit. Sabrina noticed Gladys’ limp.

“Are you OK, Gladys?”

Gavin’s attention snapped to his mother. His jaw clenched when he noticed the way she was walking.

“Just a bit stiff today,” she said with a forced laugh. “By the way, Gavin, the orthopaedic surgeon has me booked in for surgery at the beginning of January.” Gladys kept her voice airy, but her face was taught as if she was trying to hide the pain.

Gavin opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Sabrina found it odd — the man was purposeful with his communication, annoyingly so. It seemed like he didn’t know what to say.

“The final pieces for the renovations should come into place next week,” he said, finally.

“Renovation?” Sabrina looked around at her surroundings and it was like the glass was shattering. The “quirks” of the house, not to mention the distance from physiotherapy and medical care, wouldn’t be ideal for Gladys.

“You should see the plans Gavin has for the place. Moving my bedroom to the main floor, a ramp at the porch entrance…”

But it seemed like the more excited Gladys got, the more Gavin’s body stiffened.

“Gavin is taking care of everything. He always does.” Gladys put her hand on her son’s back as he slipped his feet into his shoes.

Sabrina’s intuition was buzzing. Gavin had mentioned the house being a source of stress. Tiny prickles tracked across her scalp, like the Universe was giving her a head massage, or message, in this case. Though she didn’t quite know what it was.

They made their final goodbyes (ie. At least three more hugs from Gladys) and started their journey home. The golden-hour rays of the setting sun glinted off the chain on her wrist.

“Hey, I wanted to say thank you, by the way, for the birthday gift.”

Gavin chewed his lip. “Did you figure out the code on the bracelet?”

“Yes, I loved it.” She shimmied her wrist out from the balloon sleeves of her sweater so he could see it better. “It’s one of the nicest gifts I’ve ever received,” she said, twirling one of the beads .

He didn’t take his eyes from the road, but she saw that melting half-smile graze his lips. “Your mom didn’t give you a new stack of Post-its every year?”

“No, we weren’t big on presents in our house. Every year on my birthday we would do a solar return reading. As I got older the rituals became more and more elaborate—my mom would spend the whole day making the altar—”

“Altar? You’re making it sound like some sort of blood sacrifice.”

“No, an altar is made by the witch, usually for a specific god, goddess, ancestor, or angel. In its most basic sense, it usually includes the four elements—water, fire, air, and earth. But my mom got creative. When I was ten she did a whole Alice in Wonderland theme—the teacups were our chalice. And in high school she did a Buffy one, the stake representing air—” She suddenly felt like Buffy had driven it through her heart. “It’ll be my first birthday without her.”

Still with his gaze ahead on the road, Gavin’s right hand reached out to take hers. She gripped it. Hard. Like she could squeeze the tears back into place, which made no sense, but did make her feel better. “Thanks.” Then, after a beat, she looked up at him. “Does it get easier?”

“Easier, no. You kind of get used to it.”

They drove home in silence. But he never let go of her hand.

It was enough time for excuses to swirl in her mind about the kiss: “I wanted it to be convincing for your mother” , or “I thought we could use more practice before this weekend” were both plausible explanations for her pleasurable lapse in judgement. But what about the truth?

She turned and shook her head at her reflection in the window. Her and Gavin had a physical connection. That was achingly apparent. But was that it? She wanted more. She wanted to tug at those barely used smile lines. She wanted to open all the secret compartments he had locked up in his heart. Some people preferred no strings. Sabrina preferred to weave a tangled web of mutual devotion— though she’d rather endure another musical singalong with Gilbert than ask Gavin if he wanted the same thing. The probable answer was that he didn’t, and then they would have to spend a whole weekend —Gavin, Sabrina, and her elephant-size awkwardness —trapped in four walls of a hotel room, every touch tinged with unrequited feelings. Because what made this retreat remotely bearable right now was the fact that she wasn’t faking it anymore. The only pretense was in her mind, convincing herself that he might feel the same way too.

She’d witnessed what may have been a fleeting bout of jealousy earlier, but Gavin was so hard to read. And though she was loath to admit it, he was unflinchingly direct with his communication. And not mentioning the kiss earlier? It spoke volumes.

***

S abrina’s fidgeting with her bracelet became more and more erratic as they got closer to her shop. Gavin parked along the side of the road, right outside the front window.

“Hey, look at me.”

She looked up, her eyes abnormally wide.

“You got this,” he said.

Sabrina nodded.

“You have a targeted marketing strategy with your readings this week.”

“I know—”

“It’s based on real data. And you have metrics to measure success and pivot if necessary.”

“Yes. Thank you, by the way. I know this is probably our last real coaching session with the retreat on Thursday.”

Like Gavin needed the reminder. He’d rather stand in a lineup at Disneyworld in the sweltering heat, with line cutters, screaming children, and obnoxious music bombarding him than tick down another minute until this weekend.

“My brand finally feels cohesive instead of chaotic, and I have the sales to prove it. You saved my business,” she said.

That statement pulled him out of his anxiety. How did she not understand? “ You saved your business.”

“I didn’t—”

“I don’t know a thing about crystals or astrology. You did this. It’s all your ideas. Your hard work combing through your sales records. Your creativity in how to respond to your customers’ needs. You’ve always had those skills. I just helped you channel them using grunts and growls.”

Sabrina was a dandelion, spreading her optimism like a weed, but when other people blustered, she fell apart. The only thing Gavin had done was tether her imagination in reality—not to limit it, but to give it roots so that it didn’t get blown away by a gust of self-doubt. He couldn’t be sunshine, but his stormy pragmatism would ensure the world appreciated it.

She tried to hide her smile, but it popped out anyway. “Thanks. I mean it. I’ll see you Thursday?”

He nodded. But when she pulled her hand out from under his, the opportunity to talk—really talk—slipped away too. He was getting better at tuning into people’s facial cues, and something about their visit home had rekindled the grief she felt about her mother. He’d prefer better timing, but after that kiss, he had to say something. “Sabrina, before you go, I thought maybe we should re-evaluate what we tell people about your job.” He’d spent the drive home evaluating the pros and cons, and high on his list of priorities was ensuring she knew she could be herself around him. “You’re so passionate about astrology. What if we told people that you were taking a leave of absence from your government role for the next few months to pursue a passion project. ”

She opened her mouth to speak, but he jumped in faster. “It would be one less lie to keep track of, and you’d probably feel more comfortable. Who knows, maybe even make some business connections of your own—”

“Oh yeah, I can see it now,” she laughed, “here’s my girlfriend, the astrologer.”

“Sabrina—”

“If we had a movie montage, it would be to the tune of a shitty recorder. Alfred and Effie would have a field day.”

His face felt tight. “I don’t care what they think.”

“I know, that’s your problem.”

“Right.”

“Leave the people stuff to me, trust me, no one would ever believe it. The idea is ludicrous. Let’s stick to the original plan.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but then shook his head before muttering, “Good luck.”

***