Destined Souls

Chapter One

Caterina

How is it possible that my chest aches so much for a man I could barely tolerate? Let’s be honest, I fell out of love with Stephen years ago. He’s not a good person, let alone a decent husband. He’s a pig and a jerk. He’s cheated on me more times than I care to know. I was on the bottom of his priority list—a piece of arm candy, at best. I wasn’t loved or respected. I wasn’t cherished, and I deserve more. 

Despite Stephen’s qualities as a human, or lack thereof, I’m sad. Truly and deeply heartbroken. I’m mourning…what? I’m not sure. There’s not much from my marriage to Stephen to miss, yet I feel a great loss. 

Ten years ago, I was an eighteen-year-old supermodel in Prague swept off my feet by a confident, handsome, and romantic young entrepreneur. Stephen Harding was everything I’d ever wanted. He made me feel like a goddess. He pursued me with an undeniable passion that was impossible to ignore. When I gave myself to Stephen for the first time, I saw my future flash before my eyes in vivid color. Visions of love, laughter, children, and family—a lifetime of happiness—filled my soul, and I knew. He’s the one—my one. 

It was fate, and I was destined to be loved by this man. And yet—I wasn’t…loved.

How could I have been so wrong?

I wanted my marriage to work. I tried to hold it for years after it was already dead. I knew it. He knew it. Everyone knew it. I’m certain I looked weak and stupid for staying so long. But, to me, marriage is meant to be a lifelong commitment, and I was determined to make it work. 

My parents met when my mother was a teen, and they’ve been madly in love since. I thought when the blue-eyed man in his expensive tailored suit approached me at the after-party of a designer’s show that it was the start of my happily ever after. I had found my soul mate young, just like my parents had. I was blissfully happy. Stephen whisked me back to America to start our life together, and I had no doubts it was just the beginning of my fairy tale. 

It all happened so fast, but it didn’t worry me because my parents’ story had started in a similar fashion. Their relationship had progressed quickly, just as my relationship with Stephen had. They are the most in-love couple I’ve ever known. A relationship like theirs was my end goal, and I wanted it bad. I was certain that Stephen was it.

But I was duped. That charismatic man I fell for in Prague wasn’t the man I married but simply one of his many personas—one he dropped as soon as the vows were spoken. Once I officially became his, everything changed. I ignored it for a while, making excuses—convincing myself that I didn’t make a mistake. I was too stubborn to fail, yet that was exactly what was happening. 

Perhaps, it’s not Stephen I mourn or even my pride at having failed but the young girl full of hopeful fantasies about love and life. She came to the United States on Stephen’s arm, sure that this was the start of the most amazing love story ever. She had no idea that she’d live some vastly different version, a sad and quite lonely alternative. 

I no longer carry an immature idea of love, and I don’t expect to find it again. I was hit with the hard reality, and it wasn’t pretty.

Is there true love out there? Are soul mates real? Yes, I’ve seen it in my parents’ and friends’ relationships. But it’s rare, and not everyone finds it. It’s not for me, and that’s okay. It has to be. 

I’m enough. All on my own. 

I am enough. 

I don’t need a man to validate me. I don’t need an epic love to have a worthy life. Everyone’s path is different, and mine is meant to be walked alone. 

I suppose I mourn the idea of a happy marriage because mine definitely wasn’t one. I hurt for something I wanted so bad but never had. I cry for the girl who believed a storybook ending was in her grasp. I’m consumed with guilt over the decade I wasted being away from my family to hold a man who wasn’t worthy of the sacrifice. There’s so much I wish were different, but I can’t change the past. It’s time to move on. 

So today—I cry. Tomorrow is a new day that won’t be wasted on the mistakes of my past. I’m leaving this life behind and going home to Moscow to be with my family. 

“Is this seat taken?” A voice pulls me from my thoughts. 

I lift my gaze from the martini sitting on the bar before me and turn my attention to the man at my side. “I’m sorry?” 

“Are you waiting for anyone?” He eyes the empty seat to my side. 

I shake my head. “Oh, no.” 

The guy is tall and fit. He has short disheveled blond hair and bright hazel eyes. His smile is warm, accented by a dimple on the right side. He seems nice and gives off a positive energy, but I don’t want to be cheered up today. I’m in mourning. 

I take a sip of the dry martini, and it burns my throat as I swallow. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m not in the mood to talk to anyone right now,” I say as he slides into the chair beside me.

Raising a hand, he orders two martinis from the bartender. “I get it, totally.” He blows out a breath of air. “Shit day? I hear ya. You know I came here with my roommate? He’s my best friend, cool dude and all but can be a little self-absorbed.” He waves his hand before us. “A day at the MGM Casino—great bro date, right? We were gonna hang out, gamble, drink, and play some pool. Just something different from our normal parties. Then the guy gets all flirty with the blackjack dealer. Her shift ends, and he bails. He’s God knows where doing God knows what with…Celia is her name.”

The bartender sets down a martini in front of each of us. “Thanks, man,” this guy says to the bartender before continuing. “Worst part is that he has the keys to the car in his pocket. So I’m stuck here an hour from home in a casino, day drinking by myself. Lame. Right?”

I don’t say anything but take a sip of the drink he bought me. 

“Oh man, your day is worse. Isn’t it? Uh, I’m sorry.” He drops his chin to his chest, rubbing the back of his neck. Something about his demeanor makes me trust him or, at the very least, want to. He has this air of genuine kindness to him. 

“I just signed my divorce papers.” I force a strained chuckle. “Here of all places. My ex was meeting with some clients in the restaurant in this building and gave me no choice but to come here to sign. I’m leaving the state tomorrow, and so as my final act as his wife, I had to drive to a casino to end my marriage. The papers have been ready for a while. It was just his last jab at me, making me work to leave him. I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

“I’m so sorry. I really am,” he says, and his words seem sincere. He holds out a hand. “I’m–” 

I cut him off. “Look, once again, not trying to be rude. You seem like a cool guy. It’s just been a really shitty day or, if I’m honest, ten years of consecutive shitty days, and I’m not in the most pro-guy mood. I kinda want to be alone, and I definitely don’t want to be hit on.”

He releases a laugh. “Aw, man. Saying it like it is. Totally understand. Let me just say that I didn’t get this awesome personality from having an easy life. This level of charm comes as the result of many years of struggle. I know what it feels like to be down and disappointed. In my humble opinion, it’s always better to go through the hard times with a friend.” 

“I have wonderful friends, but it’s just very personal and something I need to process on my own,” I say. 

“Riiight…or with a complete stranger who can be your friend for the day.” I start to protest before he says, “Hear me out. No names. No truths. Just fun. Just today.”

I turn to the side and quirk up a brow. He smiles wide, and his boy-next-door charm fills me with something resembling happiness, an out-of-place emotion on my melancholy day.

“It sounds weird, right?” he continues. “Just let it sink in for a minute. I mean, no one wants to be alone, especially on such an emotional day. I’m here by myself. You’re here by yourself. Let’s have fun, take your mind off your awful ex, and instead of being sad over something’s end—celebrate new beginnings.”

“With you?” I ask.

“Yeah.” He shrugs. “No one better. We just have to go over the ground rules.”

I bring the martini glass to my lips and empty its contents into my mouth. My head feels light and fuzzy. “What would those be?”

“Number one, we only speak in lies. Nothing based in reality. Today is about escaping. So I’ll go first.” He holds out his hand to shake mine. “Hi, my name is Bernard Peppercakes, and I’m an astronaut.” 

I can’t help the giggle that erupts. It’s out of place yet feels so good. I shake his hand. “Hi, I’m Daisy Hotlips, and I’m a goat herder.” 

He gasps. “Really? Wow. I’ve always been so impressed with goat herders.”

“Yeah, I mean…it’s a difficult job.”

“Well, I can tell you that being an astronaut is a piece of cake. Anyone could do it.”

I nod. “You know, I always thought it was highly overrated.”

“Definitely,” he says. “So, Daisy, where are you from?”

“Bermuda,” I answer.

“Oh, nice. I’m from Cleveland.”

For some reason, I find his answer hysterical. “You couldn’t come up with anything better than Cleveland? I’m disappointed, Bernard.”

“I know, right? It just came to my mind first, I guess.” A small grin graces his face, and I realize how adorable he really is. “Rule number two, this is a one-day-only adventure.”

“Got it.” I nod. “Won’t be hard. I’m leaving for Bermuda tomorrow.”

“Rule three is to have fun, get out of your comfort zone. And rule four is no mention of anything that makes you sad.”

“Okay, I can get on board with all those. Any other rules?” I turn on the barstool so I’m facing him.

His gaze travels over my body, leaving my skin tingling in its wake. “Just one, and it’s more of a condition than a rule, per se,” he answers.

“Okay, lay it on me.”

“You have to promise you won’t fall in love with me.” His intense stare captures mine. 

I swallow the emotion in my throat. “That’s a promise I can keep.”