“I didn’t realize you believed in stars aligning or any of that.” His white teeth sink into a juicy, red strawberry. Chewing, swallowing, he then shrugs. “Truth is, I don’t.” “Then why would you bring them up now?” He meets my gaze head-on, his brown eyes unflinching. “It’s nearly impossible to believe in that sort of thing when your life is falling apart. Same goes with fate.” His thumb caresses the spine of the knife he’s holding. “We were breaking, Holls, and I was spending nights on our damn balcony making futile wishes on shooting stars.”
