Page 21

Chapter 20

Dina

E arly the next morning, I am back at Pizza Girls .

I couldn’t sleep all night.

Yes, it’s because of the shambles my life is currently in.

And yeah, maybe I spent a good hour last night trolling through the Date to Mate app’s review section, looking for other mistakes and only finding thank you posts and reviewers raving about how awesome the app is.

Lucky fuckers.

The smell of pizza dough and tomato sauce usually makes me smile.

This morning?

Not so much.

I slip my key into the lock and push open the door, shivering as the cool air of the AC hits my face.

It’s early. Way too early.

But I couldn’t sleep, and the mural needs repairing anyway after what those morons did to it yesterday.

So here I am.

Paintbrush in hand.

Trying not to cry in front of my ruined vision of the city street just outside the windows, made cutesy and cartoony with a pizza moon and smiling customers.

Only Eric and his band of merry assholes painted penises on my pepperoni pies and scribbled words like bitch and fat whore across the bottom.

Pathetic. Losers.

Still, a tear escapes my eye, but it’s an angry one. Not sad.

Those assholes don’t get to make me sad.

Doug? He’s made me sad.

Again, that’s my fault. I gave him that power, and it was wrong of me. I jumped in too early. Trusted him when I should have used caution.

Stupid, Dina. Really stupid.

I drag the roller over the wall, biting my lip so hard I taste copper.

I should be over this by now. Over him.

It’s been almost twelve hours.

He left. He lied. He didn’t mean forever.

Case closed, right?

Except every time I try to shove my feelings into a mental box and seal it tight, my stupid heart whispers to me and hope springs eternal.

Because what if he did mean it and just got scared?

“Morning, Dina.”

I turn around, startled to find MJ breezing in through the side entrance with a coffee in each hand.

Her newly dyed purple hair is up in a messy bun, and she’s already dressed in leggings and a Pizza Girls tee like it’s battle armor.

Maybe it is.

“Hey, what are you doing here?”

“Uh, inventory. Remember?”

I mumble something noncommittal, turning back to the mural and pretending to be very, very invested in making sure the basecoat is thick, and I have a fan blowing directly on it, so it dries before I start re-outlining the basics of the scene.

Sure, I am an artist who is usually all about my work.

But not today.

And it doesn’t matter. Because my sister?

She doesn’t buy it.

MJ never buys it.

“I’m going to open the doors, so we get some circulation,” I tell her, and am on it.

“Okay, but we are going to have a conversation, young lady. And I brought back up, so don’t get any ideas about skipping out,” MJ says, right before Carina walks in too.

She is already pulling off her borrowed sweatshirt— I know it is Horace’s because it comes down to her knees and has some nerdy algorithm written across the chest —and giving me that look .

The big sister knows you’re spiraling look.

I groan. I am not in the mood.

“Seriously? Did you guys hold a sad sister summit and decide I needed an intervention?”

“Yes,” MJ says cheerfully.

“Absolutely.”

Carina leans against the counter, crossing her arms in that big sister way that makes me want to confess all my sins from birth onward.

“So.” MJ slurps her coffee. “Are we going to pretend you didn’t cry your face off in the group chat at midnight, or what?”

“Oh my God, you are the worst sisters,” I hiss, mortified.

“What?” MJ says, completely unrepentant.

“It’s okay to cry, Dina, but you’re our baby sister. You don’t get to suffer alone. Spill it,” Carina adds, and shoots MJ a dirty look.

I sigh, dropping the roller and paint brush onto the tray, I sink my tired ass into one of the nearby chairs.

I’ve gone through the entire gamut of emotions overnight and now? My whole body feels heavy and wrung out.

“I just, I really thought this was it , you know?” I whisper, voice cracking more than I want it to.

“Oh, honey.”

“It’s true. And I know I’m na?ve. But I actually believed in it this time. I didn’t second guess. I didn’t wait for the other shoe to drop. I just jumped right in because it felt so good. He felt so good. Like it was fated. But I guess we don’t all get one of those, huh?”

I’m trying for humor, but it comes out sad. Just plain sad.

MJ sits next to me and nudges my shoulder gently.

“Guess this is the first big Date to Mate fail, huh?”

I snort, tears burning my eyes.

“Yeah. Apparently, even magic matchmaking apps don’t guarantee anything.”

“Well, duh. I coulda told you that after my last Tinder faux pas.” MJ rolls her eyes and chortles.

But Carina crouches in front of me, grabbing my hands in her warm and steady ones.

Her eyes are soft when she speaks, no judgement there at all. Only patience and understanding.

“Dina, honey,” she says quietly. “Magic exists. It does. I mean, of course, it does. And the Fates? They’re real, too. But none of that replaces the hard stuff. Relationships still take work.”

I sniff, frowning.

“But if you’re fated , shouldn’t it just work? Shouldn’t he know?”

Carina smiles gently, shaking her head and squeezing my hands.

“No, sweet girl. Fate may push you together, but love ? Real love? That’s a choice you make every day. It takes communication. Honesty. You can't expect him to read your mind. Or to even know what he’s feeling right away.”

“True,” MJ adds, stretching out her legs with a sigh. “Guys are dumb. And from what you all tell me, Shifters seem especially dumb. Doesn’t mean they don’t love hard. They just process on a delay.”

I laugh weakly, because that is painfully true.

“But I mean, he had this text message all ready to send. Like at any moment, he was just gonna drop the ax.”

“Wow. Brutal. But,” MJ adds, “maybe he was just scared? Like maybe the big dummy thought you’d reject him, so he was contemplating rejecting you first?”

“What? That makes no sense.” I scoff. But then again. She could be on to something.

Carina tilts her head, her face turning serious again.

“You know. That might actually be it. I mean, Doug is Doug. Of course, he was going to mess this up, Dina,” she says, and I swear she seems actually happy about it.

“Well, gee, I’m glad my heartbreak has opened you two bozos up to your inner psychotherapists. I’ll be sure to hang up a shingle!”

“Oh my God. We’d be so good at that,” MJ snorts, and we all chuckle.

“Stop it. All I meant was it was bound to happen. Doug fucked up. So what? We all do. No one is perfect.”

“I’m not saying I’m perfect, but I didn’t lie about wanting him.”

“But did you tell him you love him?” she asks with surprising clarity.

“Um, how do you know—you know what, never mind. The answer is no. I haven’t told him.”

The confession hangs in the air between us like a heavy cloud.

Doug hid his doubts, true. But I’m just as guilty of hiding my own emotions.

“Then don’t you think cutting him off completely without giving him the chance to fix it is a little premature, honey?” Carina pauses, letting that sink in.

“That’s not fair either. Not to him, and not to you.” MJ nods and crosses her arms.

I wipe my eyes, feeling so small and foolish in that moment.

“You’re right. You’re both right,” I admit, my voice soft.

“Of course we are. Big sisters are always annoyingly right.”

Carina grins and tugs me into a hug.

“It’s literally our job,” she adds.

“And mine is to bring snacks while you cry!” MJ waves the second coffee like a trophy.

I let out a watery laugh, pulling both of them in close.

Their warmth steadies me, untangling the tight knot of doubt and hurt inside my chest.

I’m still scared.

Still unsure.

But maybe, just maybe , I don’t really want this to be over.

Not yet.

Because deep down?

I love him.

And maybe he doesn’t want it to be over either.

One thing I know for certain, Doug and I need to talk.

I only hope he’s willing to hear me out.

And maybe, just maybe, we can be one of those couples leaving glowing reviews in the user’s section on Uncle Uzzi’s Date to Mate app?