Free Shatterproof by Yvonne Collins, Sandy Rideout Page A

till I get to Cecile’s, an intimate bistro Noah and I have visited often. There are strings of lights around the front window and red paper hearts laced together with pink streamers. Every table is occupied by happy couples, clasping hands and gazing at each other over tea candles. As I watch, a man plucks an oyster from its shell with a fork and feeds it to his giggling girlfriend. At the next table, a woman is running her bare foot up her date’s leg, something only I can see. Meanwhile, to her right, a man reaches across the table to cradle the chin of a pretty blond woman.
    There’s a pause and then the blond knocks his hand away. Words I can’t hear stream out of her mouth, and she waves her finger accusingly at the man. He tries to catch her hand and she pulls it out of reach. Then she gets to her feet and charges toward the door. People at other tables glance up briefly, only to go back to their courting just as fast.
    The door to Cecile’s bangs open, ringing a bell. The blonde skitters across the snow in black stilettos and stops, trying to figure out what to do next. The snow falls on her bare shoulders, and speckles her dress until it soaks into the deep red velvet.
    Her boyfriend comes after her, carrying her coat and purse. “Tori, wait!”
    “Stay away from me, Gavin,” Tori says. “I hate you.”
    She starts to cry, covering her face with red lacquered nails.
    Gavin tries to ease her coat over her shoulders and she moves away. This time she almost slips and he holds her steady. “Baby, I don’t know why you’re so upset,” he says. “It’s just six months.”
    “ Just six months, just six months ,” she repeats. “That’s what you say every time. My life is getting chipped away six months at a time.”
    “I’ll come home every weekend.”
    She drops her hands to glare at him. “From London.”
    “Well, as often as I can.”
    “Thanks so much. Well, I’ll either be here as often as I can , or I won’t.”
    “Tori...” he’s using the placating tone I’ve used so often on Noah. “It’ll be fine. You can visit me, too. We’ll check out Buckingham Palace, catch some shows. You’ve never been to the UK.”
    “But you have. You’ve worked there twice already. You’ve paid your dues.”
    “This project is bigger, you know that. It’ll put me on track for a promotion.”
    Wiping tears away with one hand, Tori rests the other on her hip. “If you were a surgeon and lives were at stake, I’d understand. But you’re an engineer. This is just an excuse not to commit.”
    I look at Gavin’s face and see it’s not true. He loves her and feels caught between a rock and a hard place. It’s probably an expression I’ve often worn, because the hurt I see on Tori’s face is certainly a familiar sight on Noah’s.
    Taking a step toward them, I consider trying to run interference. Maybe I can reason with them, help them understand each other. But they don’t even notice me. It’s like I’ve become invisible. Looking down, I see why. While I’ve been watching them, snow has accumulated on my coat, my bare head. It’s weighing down my lashes, melting and mingling with my tears. My heart is breaking all over again with Gavin and Tori, but they only see each other and the fragile world they’re about to smash like a snow globe.
    I reach for the vial in my pocket and clutch it in one reddened, bare hand. The chances of my finding Noah in time and dosing him are slim now. There is no point in hoarding a few drops that will be powerless soon, but might help another couple now.
    Working the top off with stiff fingers, I take a couple of cautious steps closer before flinging the last bit of Wonder Glass at Tori and Gavin. The droplets arc in seeming slow motion, shining like a rainbow to my tired eyes. One drop lands on Tori’s nose, and she rubs it into her skin. Another lands on Gavin’s cheek, and glistens there.
    After a long moment, Tori and Gavin lunge forward at exactly the same