Page 44 of The Sun and the Moon
“Love, you said you would play nice with Hawthorne,” Moira chides with a chuckle. I am completely lost. Moira can tell. “Lolacalls him hersituationship. Rick refuses to acknowledge the word or the man.”
I guffaw. “Come on, Dad. Get with it.” Dad shakes his head adamantly.
“I’m old and stuck in my ways,” he says.
“You just got attached to Lola’s last situationship, and she was gone after a week,” Moira says, shaking her head. The look in her eyes is pure adoration. It’s hard to believe this look could come from a person conning my dad out of money. I decide I absolutely will not dwell on the uncomfortable way that thought makes my stomach sour.
“So I’m on my own, then?” I ask.
“You don’t have to be,” Moira replies. “Cadence needs a buddy.”
The front door opens, and Cadence emerges carrying a very content-looking Chicken. My eyes slide over her, taking in her travel gear—loose jeans rolled up at the cuff, a pair of high-top Converse in red, a cap that says “Tree Hugger” in maroon, and a faded t-shirt advertising Yosemite.
We meet on the sidewalk, and even though I am acutely aware of Moira’s gaze tracking my movement toward her daughter, I manage not to buckle beneath the pressure. As soon as I’m visible, Chicken’s tiny tan tail begins wagging like wild.
“You’re very on-brand today,” I say, motioning to hereverything. I reach out, treading dangerously close to Cadence’s chest, in order to scratch Chicken on the top of the head.
“When you work in the parks, you shop in the parks,” she says, her eyes trailing to my hand. Chicken twists around, trying to swipe my palm with kisses. “I get a discount.”
“Ah, does it extend to friends and family?” I ask, and then add with a lift to my left eyebrow: “Partners in scheme?” I’m pleased to see the edge of her lip kick up. She has beautiful, soft blush-colored lips. Without gloss, they’re a matte mauve, a pretty pink with just a little hint of brown.
“Speaking of, they’re all full up over there.” She nods toward Dad’s Subaru. “Wanna carpool?” The question causes a jolt of nerves in my stomach. Alone with her in a car for two hours sounds simultaneously heavenly and horrifying.
The Moon. The Sun. The Two of Cups.
“Sounds like a plan,” I say. “Your rental or my Audi?”
“As much as I’d love to ride in high style—” I interrupt the compliment with a blurt of laughter. She gives me a quizzical look that quickly shifts to playful suspicion. “That’s exactly why you bought it. It’s a status car.”
“This is LA, people know you by your car.”
“See?” she says, rolling her eyes.
“We can take the Audi.” I shoot her a mischievous look.
“I’m paying for the midsize sedan, so we might as well use it.”
“If you’re sure,” I reply.
“Don’t tempt me,” she says with the tiniest growl. I feel it right between my legs.
“I’d let you take the wheel,” I press. Right out here in the open, where Moira and Dad can see. It feels reckless.
And wonderful.
The sun filtering through the tree dances in her eyes, bouncing off the messy curls she’s tossed over one shoulder.
“Get your bags.” Her voice has a new breathiness to it. “I gotta deliver this fella back to your dad.” She turns hastily, and I watch her walk away.
I toss the coffee cup in the trash bins by the road on my way back to my car to grab my duffel. Cadence still has my purse in her car, which I have tried not to think about since that also means she has my driver’s license. Driving home yesterday without it after sneaking away from Moira’s hawkeyed glare was anxiety-inducing enough.
I should tell her about the reading—I’m sure she’ll ask. Ihaveto tell her, but no part of me wants to reveal the soulmates of it all. She might bail on me, the coincidence of that too much for her to bear; she might not, which could be a more terrifying proposition.
My mind wanders over the scenario for a brief, steamy second before I snap myself back to the moment and to the real concern. How to not lie and also not tell her the truth. This is part of why I couldn’t sleep last night and what I spent some of those waking minutes trying to figure out. At first I thought maybe I’d just sub in a different card for the Two of Cups—which seemed to be the one that really set off the wholeyour soulmate is on the waybit. How hard could it be? What harm could it do?
But that feels too close to outright lying, which isn’t something I want to do at the beginning of a friendship—or whatever this may be.
Stop that right now.
