Sweet Nothings

The waiter delivered the bill like a husband of twenty years sliding an unsigned anniversary card across the breakfast table.

Chloe Sinclair eyed it, forcing her smile to remain wide. This guy had been pretty decent so far. But he hadn’t exactly been romantic, like the other two. Why couldn’t one man have it all? Why was love like a pick’n’mix in which you were not in charge of the picking and mixing? She stroked the hairy hand inside her pocket – with one last finger extended – and waited to see what he did.

Henry reached for the bill and flashed her a smile. ‘Let’s see what the damage is, hm?’

She relaxed. Okay, it could be that Henry Whitaker was better than she’d thought.

Henry squinted at the ceiling for a moment, then returned his gaze to her. ‘Looks like it’s about seventy each,’ he said with a nod. ‘Including tip, of course.’

Chloe sagged. Her smile wavered. Damn it. She held onto the paw for a second, then let go and dug her purse out of her handbag. ‘Well, this was great,’ she said through a frozen smile, counting out the notes.

Henry had already stood up and was donning his jacket he’d fetched from the hooks. He did not retrieve hers. He grinned and stood there with his hands in his pockets while she grabbed her coat. ‘I agree! We should do this again soon. I had a lot of fun.’

Henry was interesting, funny, and good-looking. He also wanted the same things in life that she wanted. If only he were a bit more of a gentleman. A romantic, like a leading man from a nineties romcom. A man with a code of honour. Teddy and Desmond had been like that. Teddy had insisted on escorting her from her front door to their date location, and turned up with roses in hand. Desmond had used his umbrella to protect her from the rain while getting soaked to the bones himself. If only Teddy hadn’t been so short or Desmond so dull.

They might still be alive.

Henry walked past her, waving to the staff. ‘Thanks so much! Had a lovely time.’

Jaw clenched, Chloe followed.

Henry opened the door to the waiting night, the perfume of copper in the air. He passed through and let it start to swing shut before Chloe could exit.

All right, last try. Henry was almost perfect; it was only this one flaw. This one had to work. It had to. Because the other two sure hadn’t. And Chloe was down to her final wish.

She had wished Teddy were taller. Right as he passed beneath the spinning rotor blades before their aerial city tour. Teddy grew a foot, then shrank a head. She had wished Desmond were more exciting as they waited for the train to the typewriter museum. ‘Watch this!’ he’d said as he dashed across the tracks to the other side. She’d laughed and laughed and then told him to come back before he missed the train. He did not miss the train. Nor did the train miss him.

Chloe plunged her hand deep into her pocket and clutched the fuzzy paw.

And wished for Henry to be sweeter.

Before the door could slam, Henry spun and caught it with the back of his hand, reflexes like a knight mid-battle. He held it open for her, unaware of the sudden change in his head. ‘M’lady,’ he said, in a voice like all James Bonds mixed in a blender.

Chloe’s heart hammered, and she giggled, heat rising to her cheeks. Here it was: the big ‘L’. The one. The perfect man.

In her clutches, the final finger curled up.

Cheeks reddening, she threw a wave at the restaurant like an actress from the golden era. She passed through the doorway held open by the now chivalrous Henry. ‘Thank you.’

He offered her his elbow, smiling at her with warm eyes. ‘Anything for you, mon cheri. Are you too cold? Would you like my jacket for extra warmth? I’d give you anything. I’d give you the moon, were it not for the rainclouds blotting it out.’

Chloe took his offered arm. ‘No,’ she whispered. ‘Everything’s perfect. Just… perfect.’

‘Only because you’re here, my darling.’

She stopped walking then and turned to face him, her face tilted upwards to look into his eyes. Chloe pressed her hands to his chest, letting him encircle her. And she kissed him, slow and with passion.

Henry kissed her back with even more fervour. He tasted sweet, like a dessert, like candy, like—

Chloe blinked and looked up at him, licking her lips.

Sugar.

Strange, but the paw worked in mysterious ways. The addition of literal sweetness Chloe could live with. Her perfect guy even tasted good, now.

Thunder growled in the sky a short distance away. It rumbled like a train ploughing over an erratic insurance salesperson. Henry looked to the heavens. ‘We best head indoors, soon. Lest we be caught kissing here in the rain,’ he said, with a twinkle in his eye that said he wouldn’t mind that at all.

Chloe looked up at the darkened sky right as a raindrop landed on the tip of her nose. She laughed. ‘Yes, I suppose you’re right, honey.’ She lowered her voice. ‘What say we take shelter at mine? You best stay the night. We don’t know how long the storm will rage.’

Henry grinned, and there was kindness and romance in his eyes, but also a certain wildness. ‘Mon amor, you speak as if you know my heart’s very desires.’

‘Maybe I do,’ she said, raising her eyebrows.

More raindrops fell. There was a slight fizzing. Henry started to scream.

Chloe stumbled backwards. ‘Wha—?’

Where the raindrops had landed, his skin had dissolved. One on his cheek – his perfect, perfect cheek. One on his ear, which she had planned on nibbling later tonight. One on his hand, where no wedding ring would ever shine. ‘OH GOD,’ he screamed, trying to push her towards an awning. He managed a few more words before his mouth slid off his face like a cherry down an ice cream: ‘GET TO COV—’

All the hairs on Chloe’s body rippled as her blood turned to ice. ‘I don’t— I don’t know what— WHAT DO I DO?’

It started to rain proper. Droplets bounced off Chloe’s skin, off the buildings, off the pavement. They peppered Henry’s body and punched through his skull. Henry flailed around like an inflatable tube man mid-deflation. His screams became gargles as his throat filled with syrup.

Chloe’s screams lasted well after Henry had stopped making human noises.

He was now but a brown-red puddle glooping towards the drain. His clothes and shoes dotted the road, stained with what looked like strawberry jelly.

Chloe stood there in the rain, eyes wide, makeup dribbling down her face. ‘Damn it,’ she sobbed, pulling out the monkey’s paw.

‘I’m out of wishes.’