I Want You to Want Me Read Online Free Page B

Serious was a bore. Her dad was serious, and look at the relationship she had with him. It was strained at best.
    So why couldn’t she stop thinking about Vittorio? Why had she found herself thinking about him even from their first short meeting?
    Groaning with frustration she rose and placed her cup in the sink. These were all thoughts and questions that had plagued her last night. Nothing new and still no answers.
    And really, she didn’t want someone so emotionally cut off in her life anyway. For a friend or lover. No sooner had she finished telling herself that— again —when an image of Vittorio kissing her filled her head.
    Growling, she shoved the image aside. She glanced over at the sculpture that had become the bane of her existence, and decided that with her headache and her irritation, she just could not face that too.
    Instead she headed down the hall to get dressed. She needed to go out and remember why she loved this city. She needed to find her creativity. And she needed to think about something other than an unpleasant upstairs neighbor.
    And maybe she knew where to go to get answers to the questions she’d had swirling through her mind since her run-in with said neighbor.
     
    “Erika! Good to see you back, sweetheart!”
    Erika smiled at the man standing in the doorway of the small room in the back of In Your Cups Tea Room. He was tall and a little thick in the middle, but he had sparkly eyes, highly arched eyebrows and a wide smile. Erika would classify him as cute—in a very camp way.
    Philippe pushed aside the curtain that served as a makeshift door and sashayed into the room. “Where have you been?”
    Erika smiled, deciding Philippe’s brand of warm attention was just what she needed.
    “Working.”
    He sat down across from her at a small table, then leaned in, his eyes filled with interest. “How is the show coming along? Henry and I cannot wait to go. I have a gorgeous vintage Bob Mackie pressed and ready.”
    Erika laughed. “Friday, October thirty-first. At seven p.m.”
    “Well, even I can remember that date.” He wiggled his immaculately groomed brows. “Halloween. A very auspicious date.”
    “Let’s hope.”
    “Have I been wrong yet?” He gave her a pointed look, and she laughed again. No. He hadn’t. Since the first time she’d met him on a vacation down here nearly eight months before, he’d gotten her life eerily accurate. Right down to the sudden interest in her art and to her moving to New Orleans. He’d only seemed to be wrong on one topic.
    “Speaking of which, let’s see what your cards say today, shall we?”
    Erika nodded as Philippe handed the deck of worn tarot cards to her. She shuffled them, concentrating on her question. When would the prince that Philippe had predicted arrive?
    He’d mentioned this prince the first time they’d done a reading—and continued to do so with other readings. But as of yet, no prince, no knight, not even a page. Or even a court jester. Nothing. Maybe Philippe had simply been wrong. He was an amazing psychic, but even the best could have an off day.
    She handed the cards back to him, and he arranged them on the table into a Celtic Cross. The large topaz ring he wore on his left index finger flashed in the candlelight as he flipped the first card.
    “Oh, sweetheart, you are still struggling with your love life, aren’t you?”
    “Is it that obvious?” Erika smiled, albeit a little feebly, but she was not surprised he’d gone right to the subject bothering her. Philippe was good.
    He reached out and patted her hand. “Only in the cards, honey.”
    She appreciated that. Knowing she looked outwardly desperate wouldn’t help her headache.
    He turned another card. “Well, dear, it’s here. Finally. Lord, that prince of yours has been slow, hasn’t he?” He frowned at the card. “Yes, he’s definitely here now though.”
    Erika’s heart jumped. “Are you sure? I don’t think I’ve seen any prospects.”
    Philippe