to date. She said they never got serious ’cause she was sure he was in love with someone else. She said that no matter where they went, it felt like he was always searching for the other girl.” Beau tried to hand Haven the magazine, but she wouldn’t take it. She wanted to, but she couldn’t allow herself.
“Maybe he was in love with that musician’s girlfriend,” Haven suggested. “Isn’t that what the gossip people say? That he murdered Jeremy Whatshisname to get to his girlfriend?”
“Maybe. Or maybe Iain Morrow’s been looking for you .”
Haven tried to tame the emotions that the comment had set loose inside of her. “That interview isn’t evidence of anything,” she pointed out. “There may be some connection between us, but there’s absolutely no proof whatsoever that Iain Morrow and I are soul mates .”
Beau eyed Haven as if he suspected she’d been replaced by an impostor. “Have I missed something? I thought you were convinced that Iain Morrow was the person you were meant to find.”
“I just have to be careful, that’s all,” Haven explained, stacking magazines in an attempt to look busy. “I can’t run around falling in love with fantasies.”
“But what about the house you drew? How do you explain that and all the other crazy shit that’s happened?” Beau demanded.
“And how would you explain this ?” Haven asked, handing him another pile of photos. Each of the pictures showed Iain Morrow with a different girl on his arm.
“I don’t understand.”
“If Iain Morrow was really looking for me, do you think he’d go around diddling every model in New York City?”
Beau laughed. “You expect a nineteen-year-old guy to live like a monk until he finds you? That’s kinda sweet, Haven, but you don’t know the first thing about men. Besides, how do you know Iain Morrow ‘diddled’ all these girls?”
“I don’t care what Iain Morrow did with them,” Haven insisted. “I just don’t want to waste my time chasing after the wrong guy. Unless I find some solid proof that we’re meant to be together, I’m not taking any risks.”
“What’s this about not taking any risks?” Beau barked. “You somehow manage to talk me into believing that you’ve lived other lives, but now that I think we’ve found your old boyfriend, you suddenly get cold feet? Well, I’m not going to stand for it. I’m going to find a way for you to talk to him.”
“Some rich guy who could be a murderer? Are you insane ?”
“Are you scared ?” Beau taunted her.
“Of course not! But how am I going to get in touch with this Iain guy, anyway? It’s not like I can call him up on the phone. Plus, Imogene’s got me trapped here in Snope City for the foreseeable future. How the hell am I supposed to go to New York? I’m not even sure if I can control my visions anymore. What if I passed out in the street somewhere?”
“I already figured everything out.”
“ Sure you have.” Haven wished Beau would just give in. He wasn’t making it any easier for her to keep her expectations under control.
“I’m not going anywhere till you hear me out.”
Haven could see it wasn’t an idle threat. “Fine. Let’s hear it,” she huffed.
“Okay, remember that letter you showed me—the one your father wrote—the one that said he thought you’d been reincarnated?”
“Yeah . . .” Haven said warily. “I remember it.”
“Well, it was addressed to something called the Ouroboros Society. I thought that it sounded a little strange, so I did some research online. Turns out it’s a group that helps people who think they may have lived other lives. And guess what—they’re in New York! I bet if you sent them an e-mail and told them your story—told them you’d found someone you may have known in the past—they’d probably invite you up and find you a place to stay. Can’t be every day they come across something like this. And while you’re up there, what would it hurt to pay a
“Maybe he was in love with that musician’s girlfriend,” Haven suggested. “Isn’t that what the gossip people say? That he murdered Jeremy Whatshisname to get to his girlfriend?”
“Maybe. Or maybe Iain Morrow’s been looking for you .”
Haven tried to tame the emotions that the comment had set loose inside of her. “That interview isn’t evidence of anything,” she pointed out. “There may be some connection between us, but there’s absolutely no proof whatsoever that Iain Morrow and I are soul mates .”
Beau eyed Haven as if he suspected she’d been replaced by an impostor. “Have I missed something? I thought you were convinced that Iain Morrow was the person you were meant to find.”
“I just have to be careful, that’s all,” Haven explained, stacking magazines in an attempt to look busy. “I can’t run around falling in love with fantasies.”
“But what about the house you drew? How do you explain that and all the other crazy shit that’s happened?” Beau demanded.
“And how would you explain this ?” Haven asked, handing him another pile of photos. Each of the pictures showed Iain Morrow with a different girl on his arm.
“I don’t understand.”
“If Iain Morrow was really looking for me, do you think he’d go around diddling every model in New York City?”
Beau laughed. “You expect a nineteen-year-old guy to live like a monk until he finds you? That’s kinda sweet, Haven, but you don’t know the first thing about men. Besides, how do you know Iain Morrow ‘diddled’ all these girls?”
“I don’t care what Iain Morrow did with them,” Haven insisted. “I just don’t want to waste my time chasing after the wrong guy. Unless I find some solid proof that we’re meant to be together, I’m not taking any risks.”
“What’s this about not taking any risks?” Beau barked. “You somehow manage to talk me into believing that you’ve lived other lives, but now that I think we’ve found your old boyfriend, you suddenly get cold feet? Well, I’m not going to stand for it. I’m going to find a way for you to talk to him.”
“Some rich guy who could be a murderer? Are you insane ?”
“Are you scared ?” Beau taunted her.
“Of course not! But how am I going to get in touch with this Iain guy, anyway? It’s not like I can call him up on the phone. Plus, Imogene’s got me trapped here in Snope City for the foreseeable future. How the hell am I supposed to go to New York? I’m not even sure if I can control my visions anymore. What if I passed out in the street somewhere?”
“I already figured everything out.”
“ Sure you have.” Haven wished Beau would just give in. He wasn’t making it any easier for her to keep her expectations under control.
“I’m not going anywhere till you hear me out.”
Haven could see it wasn’t an idle threat. “Fine. Let’s hear it,” she huffed.
“Okay, remember that letter you showed me—the one your father wrote—the one that said he thought you’d been reincarnated?”
“Yeah . . .” Haven said warily. “I remember it.”
“Well, it was addressed to something called the Ouroboros Society. I thought that it sounded a little strange, so I did some research online. Turns out it’s a group that helps people who think they may have lived other lives. And guess what—they’re in New York! I bet if you sent them an e-mail and told them your story—told them you’d found someone you may have known in the past—they’d probably invite you up and find you a place to stay. Can’t be every day they come across something like this. And while you’re up there, what would it hurt to pay a
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