Page 59 of The Sun and the Moon
Moira never believed she had one, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t willing to preserve her comfort with a kind man’s help. Maybe that’s all this is. Not a con, per se, but a solution to her own fears about the future. A funny idea for a woman who claims toknow allthrough the spirit.
The shuttle ride was just long enough to let these feelings fly to the surface but not long enough for me to get centered, grounded enough to know how I feel about this potentially new spin on our breakup scheme.
“My brain is on fire,” Sydney says as the shuttle pulls away and the random married couple trips off in what I assume is the direction of their hotel room. She looks stressed and distracted, something I can very much relate to. “I feel like I need a shower just to wash the flames away so I can think straight.” She cocks a hip. “Also, the grease. I feel grody.”
I laugh at the word. She looks heavenly to me, but I don’t say that. Not with my lips anyway. My eyes take a trip over her, looking for anything at all that could be consideredgrody. The idea of being in the same hotel room as Sydney while she takes a shower is going to undoubtedly cause me to enter another spiral.
“If you want to go back to the room to get some space,” I say,because I can’t bring myself to comment on the whole concept of her naked and wet in a shower in the room we’re sharing, “I don’t mind making myself scarce.” I pause, trying to get a read on her. Her eyes aren’t settled on mine. Is she nervous? Now that we’re back here, is she remembering our no-strings kiss and regretting it? “The hotel has a good bar—I can go hang out there for a while.”
She inhales, scrubbing her fingertips in her hair, which makes the smooth strands stand on end from the friction. “Yeah,” she says, gripping a section of her hair and twisting. Her eyes drift to mine and hold. The force quakes through me. “If that’s what you want.”
What I want is to slip my tongue in her mouth.
To twist my hands in her hair and tug just enough that it exposes the soft, supple skin on her neck.
But what I don’t want is to give in and regret it. To play with this fire and get burned.
By her or by Moira when she finds out.
She may not know about how Sydney and I met, but that doesn’t change the circumstances. We can say there are no strings, but who are we to tempt fate? The more we give in to these wants, the harder it will be to untangle.
“I’m a little thirsty,” I manage to say without choking. Her lips tug against a smirk. Heat floods my cheeks, chest, ears; it blossoms between my legs, and I have to get away. “Enjoy your shower.” I spin away, walking through the double doors that lead into the lobby before she can say or do anything else.
Jesus Christ. Get a handle on it.
The hotel lobby is buzzing with people checking in, some of whom I recognize as friends and clients of Moira’s, which means, fuck, I wish I had a hat—
“Cadence Connelly!” a woman wearing a sun hat and a linenensemble calls from the chair near the fire. I cannot duck out fast enough to escape—she’s already walking this way. I stall in place, and for some reason I smile, forced and tight, and then I lift my hand to wave. Her face splits into a pleased grin.
I hate that even though I’ve been out of Moira’s life for years, I still feel a pang of responsibility to play the part of dutiful daughter with her friends.
This woman, Adria Sloane, has been coming to Moira for weekly readings ever since her first husband passed when she was in her forties. Her LA-ageless face makes that seem like less time than it actually is.
She tugs me into an uninvited hug and smacks air-kisses to either cheek.
“How long has it been?” Adria asks me when she pulls back from our greeting. I wish I could say that I don’t know, but I have a distinct memory of the last time I saw her. It was during a neighborhood yard sale to raise funds for the animal shelter, and Adria bought my record player, that I was selling in an act of rebellion. Moira wanted me to leave it behind when I left for college. I wanted to do anything else.
“Since the year I left for college,” I reply, already trying to edge my body out of her grip.
“Can’t be!” she exclaims. “I haven’t seen you since you graduated?” Her mouth hangs open in disbelief.
“It’s true.” I nod, reassuring her.
“How is that possible?” She smacks a hand to her hip in another show of shock.
“I haven’t been back…” I fight the urge to soften the statement by addingmuchto the end. It wouldn’t be true, but it would lessen the likelihood of more follow-up questions.
“Not at all?” Her face falls. Fuck, this is going to backfire. Lie it is.
“Much—I haven’t been back much.” I shrug, trying to look and sound as casual as possible. My soul dies a little with every second I spend in this ever-growing facade. “Busy, and work took me far away.”
“Ooooh, anything exciting?”If I say no, will she let me leave?
“Unfortunately, nothing too glamorous. I’m a park ranger at Acadia—”
She swats me. “Get out!”Gladly.
“Yeah, anyway—”
