“How do you know it vas not genuine if it has distressed you so? It may have been fate.” Fate. Please. Madame Richie just got lucky. She inhaled, and smoke whispered from her lips with the words. “That is the deal. Take it or leave it.” I wanted closure from this visit. I wanted to leave without her laughter over my head. “I suggest you take it,” she said. “I do think I see great things in your future.” Madame Richie was dangling a carrot on a string. Or rather, a piece of dog poop. But I guessed I was in such an awkward place in my life, I was interested to hear what generic foretelling she would come up with. “Fine,” I answered, but then I narrowed my eyes. “But no laughing. Not a single chuckle,” I warned seriously. It was clear she wanted to do exactly that, but she held it in by pressing her thin lips together. “Let us begin then.” She moved the cloth-covered crystal ball to the center of the table and pulled off the cover with a flourish. She sure knew how to play the part. She took a long look at me, then peered in to the ball with concentration. Tilted her head. No smoke appeared like it did last time. She probably didn’t have time to prep her parlor tricks since I’d arrived unexpectedly. Lifting her head, she inhaled on her cigarette and deadpanned, “You are pregnant.” I stared at her drily. “If I was pregnant, my stomach would be nearly as big as a basketball right now.” She pursed her lips. “Could be small baby.” “No.” Ronan’s baby? Yeah, right. “Vorth a shot.” She shrugged. She moved the crystal ball aside. “I do not see much now, so let us try the cards.” I didn’t know why I was still here, besides the fact I wanted her to work for the torment she’d caused me. Madame Richie shuffled the tarot cards, the cigarette dangling from her lips. “So vat do you vant to know?” Déja vu on steroids slipped over my skin like electricity, raising the hair on the back of my neck. She asked me the exact thing six years ago, though instead of answering my question with something legitimate, she gave me a