Page 34 of The Lovers
Kit does one more loose shuffle before lifting the cards toward Millie.
“Open your eyes and cut the deck twice.”
Millie cuts them unevenly, before flicking her gaze back up to Kit for next steps.
“You can pick which stack you feel most drawn to,” Kit says, “or I can.”
Millie considers her for a moment. Trust herself or trust the YouTube psychic. Mystic Maven is the only one we didn’t get a dossier written up about before we left for Celestial Sands. Her late arrival to the roster made that impossible. I’m sure Zoe could shoot me a fact sheet on her that hits the high points, but it’s not going to explain who this person has become in the years since she bailed on me outside her parents’ pool house, or what it is about her that makes people want to trust her with answers about their future.
“That’s like, your thing,” Millie says. “You pick the cards and they never lie.”
Kit holds her eye contact. I can tell she’s weighing out an answer.
“This is your reading. It’s not about me or mything.”
After another beat of strong eye contact deliberation, Millie points to the middle stack of cards. “This is it.”
Kit reincorporates the cards into one stack, putting the middle one on top.
“The first card is your purpose in the near future,” Kit explains, her hand hovering about the deck as she speaks. “It can represent you, or be an indicator of the area of emphasis that the rest of the cards will give detail to.”
Millie exhales. “God, the vibes are intense.” She shakes out her body. “Do you feel that or just me?”
“It’s okay to be nervous.” Kit’s voice deepens, smooth and calming.
“My whole life is about to change,” Millie says, and her aching vulnerability cuts through me. “Is it stupid to hope I get a road map?”
Kit smiles. “Even road maps can’t always show us the way.”
Damn. She’s good.
She flips the card. Upright, the Empress. A watercolor-style rendition of a woman, crowned in flowers, seated on a velvet chair. She is dressed in a sleek robe with pomegranates painted in sharp, colorful detail. She’s surrounded by pale yellow wheat. She appears pregnant, her face softly serene.
Natalie slides forward, snapping a photo. “Mills, are you with child?”
“You really shouldn’t have consumed all that champagne before, then.” This is from Coco.
I notice Piper bristle. When we were dating, like heavily in the throes of dreaming of future bliss, planning for a home and family—before everything went sour—the one thing we nevercould agree on was bringing kids into the world. Piper likes her independence. She likes booking last-minute tickets to Ibiza, sleeping till noon on the weekend. She refused to put the baby question on the table despite the fact that she knew I wanted one.
I know I don’t seem maternal. But there are a lot of mom types, and I have always wanted my own family unit, even if that meant unpredictable, uncontrolled; the unconditional would be worth it.
I don’t know if it’s even possible.
“Fuck off, you guys, I’ve been on birth control since I was sixteen.” Millie shoves Natalie into Coco, who gladly receives her onto her lap. “That’s not what this card means. Right, Kit?”
Kit observes the growing chaos with a knowing smirk. “It can, but in this case, I’m guessing it’s more about your nature and direction—the launch of this new phase, which will undoubtedly require steady, creative nurturing.”
Millie gives her a full-toothed grin.
“Do you want to see what’s next?”
Yes.The word surges through me.
She’s a magnet, my eyes are metal, and when she glances my way, for a split second, neither of us can resist the pull.
Chapter Thirteen
Kit
