Page 99 of The Lovers
“When we were cleaning up after the wedding, one of the crewmembers found this.” She hands it over, facedown. “It fell out of the deck she was using.”
It’s warm, even though that makes no logical sense. The warmth sends waves through me before I flip it over.
The Lovers.
The grown-up version of the Two of Cups. The Twin Flames in action. Us.
“Tell me everything you know about rom-com endings.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Kit
It’s been a week since the video posted to my YouTube channel.
It wasn’t the way I wanted it to happen, but Piper forcing me out on social media didn’t hurt my channel at all. In fact, the viral explosion of it garnered me more followers, every day, for weeks.
But it’s nothing compared to the reception of my own coming out.
That version has brought in interest fromGood Morning Americaand theDrew Barrymore Showpodcast. My channel is blowing up, and I am starting to see proof of my theory IRL. You can’t truly have a whole, fulfilling life if you are denying a part of your identity.
Coming out changed my existence.
My life.
It’s giving me the one that I want.
The response from friends and fellow creators has gone a long way to make this moment feel meaningful. They’ve shared the video so it eclipsed the original outing. They want me to succeed in this new era of my life, no judgments, no pile on.
After I posted the video, Mom got me a cake with rainbow layers to celebrate. Dad grilled out. Willa showed me and Nina how to work both our cores and pelvic floors while my parents argued about an offer that had come in for the house.
We were moving on, all of us, becoming fuller versions of ourselves.
But Julia still hasn’t DMed, and that makes me worried that in the time it’s taken me to figure my shit out, she’s moved on for the last time. I believe in the magic of the universe, but maybe Madame Moira was wrong. Or maybe it doesn’t matter what the universe wants if the people don’t anymore.
I want to spiral about it, but that’s not productive, and it’s definitely not going to change the outcome if I do. So I let the fears exist, but I don’t let them shape my thinking. I get my head in the game. This is my first job since Millie’s wedding. I need the money for a down payment on an apartment, since just this morning Mom and Dad accepted that offer on the house. In a few weeks, my childhood home will sell to a family moving in from Ohio. A little girl with blond hair will take over my room. Everything will change, and even though I’m almost thirty, it’s going to take some adjusting.
Fortunately, I’m getting good at going with the flow and trusting my instincts to guide me.
I check that the address I have is correct. It’s a studio space in the Arts District. The event is for a group of visual artists getting ready to launch a show next week. They want me to read the cards for their event.
I push the intercom button.
A woman’s voice crackles through the speaker. “Welcome to Euphoria.”
“Hi.” I try not to sound weirded out. “This is Mystic Maven—Kit. I’m here for the tarot reading. I was hired by Zed.”
“The Omega, yes.” Ha, okay. Because Zed for Z, the end of the alphabet. Jesus, at least the pay is good.
They buzz me in. I take the staircase up to the second story, per the instructions.
But when I step into the loft, it’s not anything like what I expected.
They’ve strung lanterns around the room, their golden light complementing the sunset that cuts through the windows on three sides of the space. The room is flooded with color and life. There are flower arrangements dotting the floors, paintings of desertscapes and night skies creating a story around the room.
It’s an homage, perfectly designed, but it’s not what I’m focusing on. My eyes have fixed on the woman standing at the center of the room.
Dressed in poppy orange.
