Page 85 of The Lovers
“Since you got here? Since you saw her?” Her brow edges upever so slightly. Fuck. “Oh, no, you’ve been following her since I told you her name.”
“I just wanted to know what was so special about her.”
“You’re deranged, you see that, right?”
She shoves her phone in my face, ignoring the accusation. “She just broke up with amanshe’d been living with for months.”
Admittedly, I hadn’t given the dude much thought. Kit didn’t seem very concerned about her breakup, so I wasn’t too worried about fallout. Her freak-out that led her to bail to the desert for this job was her parents’ split, not her own.
“And?” is the reply I go with.
“She’s not out, Julia.”
“You weren’t out for years, that’s not a reason to break up.” I can tell this stings. In her mind that is the only valid point I made when I ended things. The rest of my argument, about how she treated me and how suffocatingly miserable my life had become with her, was debatable at best, inconsequential at worst.
“Admit it,” she continues. “A part of you is afraid that this is nothing but a desert-induced, wedding-influencedcuriosity.” Her eyes blaze, a triumphant, prideful expression working its way across her face. This is her final flaming dart, but it doesn’t hit its mark.
I know what I have with Kit is the beginning of something great. I know that because I feel more like myself than I have in a long time. Freer and ready for anything. Willing to let go. Trying to trust that I can.
I’m focusing on that. Not whatever her Instagram feed would have me believe.
“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” I say, ready to walk away. “You can’t win ’em all, and you definitely aren’t winning this one.”
I turn to walk away, but she grabs my bicep to hold me in place.
“Don’t,” she pleads.
“Let go,” I reply.
But she doesn’t. Her grip tightens and I have to break it. I yank my arm away and hiss, “We are never, ever getting back together,” storming off with Taylor Swift’s iconic breakup song playing in my brain like a soundtrack.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Kit
Trying to wrap up a reading with one of Millie’s high school friends who didn’t make the wedding party cut isn’t going all that well. She’s pissed, mostly attending the wedding to shit on the whole affair, and her pettiness made an appearance in her spread.
“It’s just like, who the hell even is Piper?” she asks me. I have some theories on the tip of my tongue, but not a single one of them is safe for work. “She just weaseled her way into the lineup as soon as Ellen was hospitalized.” She raises her brows with meaning.
“Oh, well, the cards indicate that you need to release your judgments—”
“Or is it that I’m right?” She purses her lips, cocking out her hip in defiance.
“No, usually when Judgment appears it is a prompt for the querent”—I point to her—“to look inward and assess where they are not being fair and balanced.”
She sucks through her straw, chewing on the end as she glares from me back to the cards.
“Whatever, I’m getting another piece of cake,” she says. Gone before I can reply.
“Good riddance,” I say under my breath, shaking my head as I clean up the spread. I spritz the air with my cleansing spray bottle, when my phone buzzes with a text from Nina. She’s been asking me to send her a pic of Julia and me together since I came out to her over the phone yesterday.
by now, you two are probably all liquored up
loosened up
give me the goods
I snicker, responding with a selfie of me making a kissy face.
