Page 63 of The Lovers
“I haven’t seen one in a while.” She doesn’t say it, but I can deduce that it’s because of me. Of what happened with me. Julia and I watched so many rom-coms together in the course of our friendship. She went right along with my movie-obsessed family, fit right in on Friday Movie Nights. She went to opening days and she could recite dialog back to me almost as well as Dad.
“I’ll have to catch you up,” I say. “Some people would say we are in a new golden era of rom-coms. There’s even some queer ones.”I’ve seen them all.“We should start with one of those.”
She lifts her brows, shifts her glass toward mine and clinks. “It’s a date.”
It occurs to me suddenly that it really could be. “And dinner.”
“At a restaurant with fabric napkins.” She smiles, and it doesn’t look sad. The memory may never totally stop stinging, but we can—and will—make new ones.
Together.
I’m hit with the urge to hold her close. I don’t fight it. I skate my hand over her jawline, to the nape of her neck. There’s no resistance as I tug her in for a kiss. My eyes close as she deepens the kiss, her lashes fluttering against my cheek as her tongue slips into my mouth.
It’s almost wild how right it feels to get all tangled up in her.
When I pull back after a few intense seconds, I see that she’s searching my face with her eyes.
“Piper’s my ex,” she blurts. “Full transparency.”
“I know,” I reply. I brush my thumb over her jaw before letting my hand drop back to my lap.
“Did she tell you?” She’s gearing up to get pissed. “That would be so like her—”
“The cards—her reading last night indicated a breakup andfeelingsabout it. Plus just every interaction I’ve observed between you two. It was easy to connect the dots.” I brush her fingers with mine, gentle, what I hope is also reassuring.
“She knows about us.” Julia sighs.
“Fuck.” I exhale, blinking. “How?”
Julia scrubs her hands over her face anxiously. “I told her about you when we were dating and she’d pieced together your identity when she met you here.” She looks at me, clearly nervous. “I’m sorry, Kit.”
“It actually tracks that she’d figure it out. She’s certainly cunning.” I keep my voice light, trying to assuage her concern. I cup her hand in mine, rubbing my thumb along the knuckles. “I’m not intimidated by her. I can handle her death glares and shit talk.” But there’s more weighing on her than just this bombshell, I can see it tugging her shoulders down. “Her reading yesterday—she wants you back, doesn’t she?”
“She does—not that it’ll ever happen.” Her eyes drop to my hand over hers. “Being with her changed me. It was subtle at first, just critiques, little tweaks of my every move and thought. Then way less subtle, glaring, suffocating. But I probably would have endured it forever if she’d been willing to be come out, especially to her family.” She shakes her head, letting her eyes float back up to focus on mine. “I don’t know what’s happening here, but I don’t want to be a secret just to have you.”
Here it is.Don’t back away. Don’t retreat.
“I don’t know what this is either. I’m not out,” I say. She starts to pull her hand away. I clutch it, can’t let it go. “I want to be.” I fit my fingers through hers. “I might need some help from my friend.”
She closes her hand, twining our fingers in unbreakable knots. Something like trust—that soft, safe, sure warmth in the pit of your stomach when you know, no question, you’re right where you need to be—passes between us.
“About that,” she continues. “Coco saw you leave Homebase earlier. She also noticed this.” She reaches up to point at her collar. It takes me a second to figure out what the smudge is.
“Oh my God,” I say, a laugh caught in my throat. “My lip gloss is that color.”
“She alsoconnected some dots.” Julia doesn’t look as amused as I feel. “I didn’t confirm, but she’s…”
“A force to be reckoned with,” I fill in for her.
“Exactly.” She holds my gaze, hope mixing with fear in her eyes. I brush my finger over her knuckles again to reassure her that I’m okay. This isokay. Coco knowing something happened between us isokay.
Julia looks away after another beat, a blush forming on the apples of her cheeks. Her eyes land on the table.
“Those cards are different.” She’s looking at my tarot deck. “From the ones I saw yesterday.” I take another sip of wine, untangling my fingers to retrieve the deck.
“I have this superstition about my decks,” I say, setting my glass down before coming back to sit beside her with the cards. “The ones I use for clients, or to film YouTube videos, are only used for that purpose. And then I have my personal collection.” I lift the deck in my hands, letting her get a good look. “This one, and an oracle deck that I don’t have with me right now. I don’t let clients pull from those.”
Her eyes drop to the top of the deck.
